TV Moment 4: Don't talk to me about heroes ...
If you, like me, grew up a sports fan in England in the 1980s, there were a lot of great sportspeople to support. As you grow older, less innocent, more cynical, you might have learnt to say "I wouldn't use the term heroes, they were just people I supported", but, in truth, when you're young, they were "heroes", you looked up to them, you cared about them, you imagined them coming to your birthday party (surely not just me ...).
Who were those sporting greats? My favourite, of course, was David Gower, then there was Ian Botham, Nick Faldo, Frank Bruno, Rory Underwood, Rob Andrew, Steve Davis and, of course, the great Seb Coe. And what do nearly all these heroes have in common (besides sporting excellence), either explicitly stated or probably (I apologise to Underwood and Andrew if I slander them)? They're bleedin' Tories, that's what! Aaaargh ...
There are other heroes of the age - Linford Christie, Daley Thompson, Paul Gascoigne, Gary Lineker etc and even if we discover in later life they're not rabid Tories, we certainly realise that they're cussed, arrogant, unhinged, monomoniacal, tunnel-visioned etc ... certainly not the stuff of the role models I wished to have as I grew into myself.
So I look back at myself and feel a little ashamed? Nick Faldo? Jeez ... I remember reading an interview with Damon Albarn in his Britpop heyday, when I was a burgeoning teenage leftist indie hipster, in which he was bemoaning the fact that his level of fame was such that his agent had clients including "David fucking Gower". David fucking Gower? How dare you, young man? Even then, I was shocked that my two main loves didn't meet seamlessly, that the worlds of Albarn and Gower clashed.
As I grew older, I looked a little left-field for sportspeople to admire, sometimes in vain, but I found a place for smokin', loungin' Tuffers, bloodshot Jimmy White, loping Le Tiss, intellectual Zvonimir Boban. In truth, proper sporting lefties are pretty thin on the ground - the natural survival-of-the-fittest, driven, take-no-prisoners attitude of sport is a snug fit with Conservatism, as is the childhood of comfort, privilege and access to facilities that still nourishes those who make it big in a number of sports. That's ok. Unless their politics are as deeply unpleasant as Sinisa Mihailovic, I won't turn against a sporting figure just cos they're a little bit Tory. I'll just shrug and sigh.
These days, the brand of British sporting hero is gratifyingly different, for whatever reason (perhaps it's just media training). Who've the kids got? Beckham, Wilkinson, Ennis, Farah, Adlington, Cook, even Murray. They all seem really nice. In their own way, just really nice people. And they're loved more because they're nice too. Andy Murray has finally convinced people he's nice, and now, finally, he's loved.
How do the heroes of the 80s stack up? Oh, not too bad. Gower seems fine, far more conventional than his cricket made him out to be, Steve Davis has renounced his Toryism and is one of the best sportsmen-turned-broadcasters there's ever been, and the Lord of them all, Coe, has turned out to be the best kind of tory, the old-fashioned kind, the put-on-an-amazing sporting event for the world to enjoy kind.
I'm glad. I loved Seb Coe. That's what all this preamble has been building up to. I just about remember the 1984 Olympics, but barely. Then I remember Steve Cram conquering all in 1985, breaking 3 world records, just being a long-striding demigod.
Then came 1986 and I think Coe was seen as past his best - but he was my favourite. This is what I remember, still vividly - the 1986 European Championships, in late August, my family on holiday in North Berwick. A lot of ice cream and chips, sunshine, putting, dolphins and killer whales showing off, and, when the TV was on in our holiday flat, sporting heaven.
First of all, the return of Ian Botham to test cricket vs New Zealand after his enforced absence - coming back to break Dennis Lillee's record for test wickets, then Gower hitting a century and Botham a quickfire 50 with two sixes.
And those European Championships, lots of gold medals for Great Britain, and the returning king Coe shocking Cram in the 800m. Cram had become an enemy, made so by his aura of invincibility which he'd never rediscover after that day. I remember us all screaming at the TV "Coe, Coe, Coe, Coe" all the way to the line. The first time I remember that extraordinary adrenaline rush from watching the end of a middle distance race, as somehow each pace, so full of pain and lactic acid, speaks of the very being, the very essence of each participant. It's will in the last 50 metres of those races, or so it appears, unfairly to the vanquished.
How funny the ways we betray our later beliefs when we're young. I stuck my tongue out at Neil Kinnock when he gave me the thumbs-up outside his Ealing house, around the same time. I worry that crushed the man's spirit so much that I'm directly responsible for 5, if not 9 years of Tory government, so lacklustre were his election campaigns in 1987 and 1992.
So imagine my chagrin now at having cheered on the Tory Coe against the good Jarrow socialist Cram. I can't take that back. Both sporting statesmen in their own way now. Whenever I watch these two old adversaries and friends chatting away on the TV, Cram always purportedly interviewing Coe about some wider sporting issue though it usually just ends up with them both enthusing about running, I remember that day. The more famous rivalry is Coe vs Ovett, of course, but, really, any great athletes who've run each other into the ground, hearing every breath, sensing every weakness, over and over again, is going to have some kind of lifelong bond.
Coe's still a hero, Gower's still a hero, I forgive them their patrician conservatism, of course I do. Ian Botham's dyed mullet and tache combo I'll never forgive.
Who were those sporting greats? My favourite, of course, was David Gower, then there was Ian Botham, Nick Faldo, Frank Bruno, Rory Underwood, Rob Andrew, Steve Davis and, of course, the great Seb Coe. And what do nearly all these heroes have in common (besides sporting excellence), either explicitly stated or probably (I apologise to Underwood and Andrew if I slander them)? They're bleedin' Tories, that's what! Aaaargh ...
There are other heroes of the age - Linford Christie, Daley Thompson, Paul Gascoigne, Gary Lineker etc and even if we discover in later life they're not rabid Tories, we certainly realise that they're cussed, arrogant, unhinged, monomoniacal, tunnel-visioned etc ... certainly not the stuff of the role models I wished to have as I grew into myself.
So I look back at myself and feel a little ashamed? Nick Faldo? Jeez ... I remember reading an interview with Damon Albarn in his Britpop heyday, when I was a burgeoning teenage leftist indie hipster, in which he was bemoaning the fact that his level of fame was such that his agent had clients including "David fucking Gower". David fucking Gower? How dare you, young man? Even then, I was shocked that my two main loves didn't meet seamlessly, that the worlds of Albarn and Gower clashed.
As I grew older, I looked a little left-field for sportspeople to admire, sometimes in vain, but I found a place for smokin', loungin' Tuffers, bloodshot Jimmy White, loping Le Tiss, intellectual Zvonimir Boban. In truth, proper sporting lefties are pretty thin on the ground - the natural survival-of-the-fittest, driven, take-no-prisoners attitude of sport is a snug fit with Conservatism, as is the childhood of comfort, privilege and access to facilities that still nourishes those who make it big in a number of sports. That's ok. Unless their politics are as deeply unpleasant as Sinisa Mihailovic, I won't turn against a sporting figure just cos they're a little bit Tory. I'll just shrug and sigh.
These days, the brand of British sporting hero is gratifyingly different, for whatever reason (perhaps it's just media training). Who've the kids got? Beckham, Wilkinson, Ennis, Farah, Adlington, Cook, even Murray. They all seem really nice. In their own way, just really nice people. And they're loved more because they're nice too. Andy Murray has finally convinced people he's nice, and now, finally, he's loved.
How do the heroes of the 80s stack up? Oh, not too bad. Gower seems fine, far more conventional than his cricket made him out to be, Steve Davis has renounced his Toryism and is one of the best sportsmen-turned-broadcasters there's ever been, and the Lord of them all, Coe, has turned out to be the best kind of tory, the old-fashioned kind, the put-on-an-amazing sporting event for the world to enjoy kind.
I'm glad. I loved Seb Coe. That's what all this preamble has been building up to. I just about remember the 1984 Olympics, but barely. Then I remember Steve Cram conquering all in 1985, breaking 3 world records, just being a long-striding demigod.
Then came 1986 and I think Coe was seen as past his best - but he was my favourite. This is what I remember, still vividly - the 1986 European Championships, in late August, my family on holiday in North Berwick. A lot of ice cream and chips, sunshine, putting, dolphins and killer whales showing off, and, when the TV was on in our holiday flat, sporting heaven.
First of all, the return of Ian Botham to test cricket vs New Zealand after his enforced absence - coming back to break Dennis Lillee's record for test wickets, then Gower hitting a century and Botham a quickfire 50 with two sixes.
And those European Championships, lots of gold medals for Great Britain, and the returning king Coe shocking Cram in the 800m. Cram had become an enemy, made so by his aura of invincibility which he'd never rediscover after that day. I remember us all screaming at the TV "Coe, Coe, Coe, Coe" all the way to the line. The first time I remember that extraordinary adrenaline rush from watching the end of a middle distance race, as somehow each pace, so full of pain and lactic acid, speaks of the very being, the very essence of each participant. It's will in the last 50 metres of those races, or so it appears, unfairly to the vanquished.
How funny the ways we betray our later beliefs when we're young. I stuck my tongue out at Neil Kinnock when he gave me the thumbs-up outside his Ealing house, around the same time. I worry that crushed the man's spirit so much that I'm directly responsible for 5, if not 9 years of Tory government, so lacklustre were his election campaigns in 1987 and 1992.
So imagine my chagrin now at having cheered on the Tory Coe against the good Jarrow socialist Cram. I can't take that back. Both sporting statesmen in their own way now. Whenever I watch these two old adversaries and friends chatting away on the TV, Cram always purportedly interviewing Coe about some wider sporting issue though it usually just ends up with them both enthusing about running, I remember that day. The more famous rivalry is Coe vs Ovett, of course, but, really, any great athletes who've run each other into the ground, hearing every breath, sensing every weakness, over and over again, is going to have some kind of lifelong bond.
Coe's still a hero, Gower's still a hero, I forgive them their patrician conservatism, of course I do. Ian Botham's dyed mullet and tache combo I'll never forgive.
At least your childhood hero was never Rolf Harris, mate.
ReplyDeleteIndeed, indeed
ReplyDelete