Idiotic sports stars are merely a reflection of our septic society
The deeply questionable idea that sports stars should be role models off the pitch has become axiomatic
Idiotic sports stars are merely a reflection of our septic society | Marina Hyde | Sport | The Guardian
The deeply questionable idea that sports stars should be role models off the pitch has become axiomatic
Idiotic sports stars are merely a reflection of our septic society | Marina Hyde | Sport | The Guardian
The England coach Martin Johnson, left, and Mike Tindall answer questions from the press at the Rugby World Cup. Photograph: Marcos Brindicci/Reuters
Occasionally drunk, frequently uncouth, and somewhat lacking in application – don't the England rugby side know they're supposed to be representing the nation? Ah… I see. The motto on this country's coat of arms is "Dieu et mon droit", but only because the heralds drawing it up didn't know the Latin for "Lazy-arsed, ******, lairy and tearily sorry for it all in the morning". They were probably too lazy-arsed and ****** to find it out.
Before you take Middle England levels of offence, I do not mean to malign any 15th-century artisans, who doubtless nurtured hopes the motto would come to imply something other than "God and my right to be a right twazzock". But I really cannot hear one more person fume that Martin Johnson's motley crew "are supposed to be representing their country" when they are doing just that. If the sorry little circus that has been taking place in New Zealand for what feels like the past 37 weeks is not sublimely representative of this septic isle then heaven knows what is.
Perhaps there are those who still think of England as a land of pleasant pastures and Satanic mills. I envy the illusion. For me, there will forever be some corner of a foreign field in which an imbecilic Sky Sports News reporter is lumbering after the England vice-captain and gibbering "sorry, Mike, but the story JUST WON'T GO AWAY".
Don't get me wrong – while others might be purists, I am grateful for the diversion. As indicated, this rugby World Cup is not only taking place in Middle Earth, but appears to span a period equal to at least the second and third age of Tolkien's fantasy world. Something must fill the long weeks, and the travails of Martin Johnson's malfunctioning fellowship and their run-ins with the dwarves are perfectly serviceable. The players may not like the coverage, but even the stupider ones will eventually have to accept that it comes with rugby's higher profile. What you gain on the sponsorship deals you lose on the public vomiting.
But never forget that the vomiting has always been there. And in far greater litreage than it is now. The annals of sporting history are littered with carousing players and the hacks who went along for the ride and declined to report any of it – yet because of the money and the 24-hour news cycle, we're now supposed to care.
The deeply questionable idea that sports stars should be role models off the pitch has become axiomatic. It was a social imperative to strip John Terry of the England captaincy – a position marginally less important than that of a regimental goat, but which has been elevated in the public discourse into a sort of hybrid of Churchill and Gloriana. Similarly, there was a huge objection to Andy Carroll getting an England call-up last year, on the basis of some police cautions. Yet why on earth should the England manager's personnel decisions function as some sort of off-shoot of the criminal justice system? There are times when football already seems to dominate most things. Perhaps we could avoid handing jurisprudence over to it too.
Obviously, people don't apply such restrictions to other representatives of their country, such as the army. Soldiers can get as trashed as they like off duty – as long as they don't get arrested or wake up in Rio or whatever – but if they show up on time to have their legs blown off in Helmand then the sort of people who get their knickers in a twist over what rugby players do on their night off are perfectly serene with them "representing Britain". Indeed, these same people will probably be indulgently thrilled that Boris Johnson will be "representing Britain" far more visibly than any athlete during the Olympics, as the self-effacing old rogue has somehow been categorised as one of those whose off-duty behaviour must be excused.
Of course, Boris is only London mayor and in charge of a multi-billion pound budget, so it is perfectly understandable that he should be judged to less stringent standards than someone who may or may not get picked by Fabio Capello, or might have behaved like a bit of an idiot in a bar. But I can't help feeling that only when we dispense with the preposterous idea that sports stars should be moral beacons will we be serious about solving social problems for which athletes are often and bizarrely blamed. Players do not create society – they reflect it. Pretending it's the other way around is just a useful cop-out.
