I want you to picture the scene. You’re a young British test driver in a huge Formula 1 team. You have progressed through the ranks of motorsport and now, there is a chance, albeit a miniscule one, that you might get a shot at the big time. You know the chances of it happening are hovering around zero. You haven’t the millions needed, you need a huge slice of luck. Then, on the weekend of the British Grand Prix, your phone rings. The lead driver and current world champion has phoned in sick (or whatever Formula 1 drivers do) and they need you to drive for the weekend at Silverstone. You nearly get sick with excitement, all your friends hear about it and your phone and social media pages can’t cope with the traffic from well-wishers and new found hangers on. Sky News Sport are frantically putting together a special, on this new sporting hero. The papers have your name all over the front pages. You’re the next big thing.
You qualify the car on the front row of the grid. On race day, everything goes like a dream. The car runs better than perfect, the pit crew do the job of their lives, the engineers and management out perform themselves and the tactics are perfect also. It’s the last lap, you’re in the lead. You come through Stowe corner flat out, the crew are in your earpiece guiding you. You can hear the 120,000 delirious fans over the screaming V8 engine just behind you. Through Vale and then, into Club Corner. Now, it’s a mad dash to the chequered flag. However, something stirs in your mirror, it’s another car and he’s closing fast, mighty fast. He has also had the race of his life and if anything, his car is better and faster than yours. What can you do, your dream is unravelling. If you were to give him the slightest nudge, it would be all over and you would claim the victory and stardom. Would you do it?
It’s the 80th minute of the Champions League Final. It’s 1 – 1 and you’re sitting on the substitutes bench. There are 10 minutes left and suddenly, the manager calls your name. You do a very quick warm up on the touchline. The TV cameras pick up on you and the commentators begin to spew out a few facts. You’re out of contract in a week or two and there is no discernible interest from anybody. The match officials raise the board with your number on it and you run to your position on the field. With 2 minutes to play, you run onto a pass. You skin the full back, get a lucky bounce and you’re through, one on one with the keeper. The 80,000 fans in the stadium scream. Time stands still, it’s like one of those moments in a film, where the sound becomes muffled and the picture blurs. You feign one way and switch the other way. The goalkeeper does his job, stays on his feet as long as possible, before diving towards your feet to get the ball. All you need to do is let your foot trail a little and it will touch the keeper. You will get the penalty, a possible win, a Champions League medal, but most important, that new contract is a given. Would you do it? Would you leave your foot in there.
Rugby wouldn’t be my strongest point, in fact I’d have zero interest. However, I read during the week about the “spear tackle” (sounds like something from Game of Thrones. Is this really sport?), perpetrated a few years ago on Brian O’Driscoll, during the Lions Tour match against The All Blacks. The All Blacks “Legend” Keven Mealamu spoke about the infamous tackle this week. He didn’t seem all that perturbed, despite having taken out one of the best players in the world. Would you do it?
Channel hopping here yesterday, I happened upon a football match on Eurosport. It was Argentina V England and England were leading 2 – 0 when I tuned in. In the last moment, a young lad playing for England, did exactly as described above and left his foot in. The commentator described it as thus. “Brilliant play by the young man. All he had to do was leave his foot in there and he did it perfectly”. Would you do it?
I’ve read Sam Bennetts daily diary every day, since the Giro began 2 weeks ago. It’s a no nonsense account of life in the peloton of a major cycle race. It’s tough, frenetic, incredibly dangerous and not a place for the faint hearted. Sean Kelly once said that to be a sprinter, you need to have a screw loose. Sam must have a few of them loose, I’d say. He described the finishing sprint on Friday, where another rider seemed to be more intent on disrupting Sam’s team, than doing the job he’s paid to do, which is to work with his own team. If he could take out an opposing rider, it would ensure a win for his own rider. Would you do it?
There is a questionnaire doing the rounds at the moment on social media. It asks people to name their favourite sportsperson of all time, in a wide range of sports. Some of the “sports” are a bit questionable in my mind though. Whoever decided that Darts was a sport for example, must have been after a few. Snooker, is a great cure for insomnia in my book. Wrestling looks more like a circus act, MMA should be renamed GBH and try as I may, I cannot make head nor tail of American Football or Baseball.
I completed the questionnaire over the weekend. It’s good fun and guaranteed to get a bit of conversation going, which is the very essence of social media for me. An opinion, argue your point or have a good honest debate.
I had to name my favourite cyclist of all time. I thought long and hard about it. All my friends were more or less along the same line. It had to be Kelly or Roche, but as I said, I thought long and hard and then my fingers started typing, L-a-n-c-e. Then I pressed the return key and my selections were gone out onto the interweb, for all to see.
Almost immediately, a few heads turned. “Did he really say Lance?”. That b*stard ruined the sport, destroyed careers, lied to the world and cheated.
Yeah, he cheated, big time. He turned his arse to the world and gave everybody the two fingers. Possibly one of the most hated sportspeople of all time and he was my favourite cyclist.
Well yes. The questionnaire didn’t ask me who I considered the best, or the greatest (that’s Kelly) or who I admired. It asked my favourite and no more.
I can remember racing home from work to watch Lance at the TDF. I marvelled at his exploits on the toughest sporting event in the world. Lance overcame cancer and through his foundation, raised hundreds of millions for cancer treatment. Lance was a man, a real man, he didn’t accept second best, winning was everything. (Watch the film “Stop at nothing” on Netflix). It’s a sickening film for a fan of the sport, but as a fan of Lance, it’s even more sickening.
He let down millions of fans like me. I sat up in disbelief that fateful night watching Oprah and couldn’t believe what I was hearing. How could he do that?
But, deep down, I remember those evenings, marvelling at the telly as he became a legend. I still follow him on Strava and Twitter. Because, there is another way of looking at it.
I have watched lots of other sportspeople cheat. In 1994, at the Australian Grand Prix, if Damon Hill didn’t finish, Michael Schumacher was world champion. Schumacher crashed into him and he didn’t finish, result. Michael Schumacher was my favourite F1 driver of all time. Nobody questioned that at the weekend.
Diego Maradona and his hand of god” goal versus England in the 1986 World cup. That was cheating, let’s be honest, but because it was against England, it was a good thing. Nobody questioned that either.
The sporting world and life in general is littered with cheats, people that will do anything to come first. Is there a difference in the type of cheating we will accept and the type of cheating we won’t.
Would ya do it yourself would ya?
The Unknown Bike Rider 