Given these times, I decided to serialise my third book, published in 2013 to celebrate my fiftieth birthday. I’ve reproduced each chapter with modest tweaks.
This is about a subject I have had a lot of practice at.
LEARNING TO LOSE
“Success consists in going from failure to failure without loss of enthusiasm.”
Sir Winston Churchill
It may seem akin to looking through rose tinted glasses at days of yesteryear but I firmly believe the demise of competitive sport and the almost simultaneous surge of political correctness, are inextricably linked.
I am no favourite of politicians, nor the concept of Big Government, it definitely was better to be a kid “in my day“.
Politicians from all sides of the fence are culpable; Liberal Lefties for almost extinguishing competition in favour of rewarding all who simply turn up; Nasty Tories for selling off sporting fields, destroying much of what my generation grew up knowing as a sporting youth.
Opportunities available to all, regardless of class or background, have been squeezed and talent denied. In a world that has rarely been as competitive since the days of fleeing from dinosaurs, how is telling kids they are all winners even remotely fair on them?
Some you win, some you lose, never a truer word spoken. You cannot play any sport without this knowledge; far better to get used to it and find a way to accept defeat with grace and, equally, to show this in victory as well.
One of the highlights of the magnificent 2005 Ashes series was England’s victorious Flintoff consoling a crestfallen and beaten Australian Brett Lee at the very point of a historic victory.
Sport mirrors life in so many ways; it teaches you that sometimes even our very best will not be good enough and that the “form book” is never the ultimate arbiter.
So to imply that everyone is a winner is utter rubbish. If you have never experienced the misery of losing how can you appreciate what it takes to win?
The Diplomat
Haighy’s son Phil, recounted a tale from many years ago from a junior match where Villas had played out a hard-fought cup game against Bingley Congs. The game was officiated by umpires from both sides – neutral umpires remain a pipedream – and skulduggery was alive and well.
With the game going to the final ball and Villas needing an unlikely five just to tie, Phil was at the wicket, rarely having scored five in total in his life.
Unbelievably, with his father in the score box watching on in disbelief, the Villas pair, attempting a seemingly pointless and suicidal three, ran a five due to a mad overthrow caused by panic in the opposition.
Pandemonium broke out as the scorebooks were then checked; Villas had won. The opposition umpire, having congratulated the lads on running a five, then claimed they had only run four and young Phil erupted.
Haighy, ever the peacemaker, promptly booted his wailing son up the backside, shoved him in the car and declared the game a tie to avoid a mass brawl. After all, he was unlikely to kick anybody’s head in wearing his trademark M&S slippers.
In the modern age, he would have had a fleet of police cars round at his house and would have been up on a charge of child abuse. By the way, we got stuffed in the replay.
Cheats
Officiating as I do in junior cricket games it saddens me still to see coaches blatantly cheating. It may be a stone dead LBW decision ignored because the opposition star player is the likely victim or, in a tight game, all of a sudden the opposing umpire’s arms start flapping like an eagle, giving wide after wide and piling up extra penalty runs for his side.
In junior cricket we tend to avoid giving LBWs as, given the paucity of any cricket, the chances are that a kid will only pick a bat up once at week at best. Firing them out without the benefit of Hawkeye technology can be rough justice and in honour of Harry Medley we tend to favour “Not out!”
Very occasionally it backfires as it did many years ago against a very good Harden junior side playing my not quite so good Villas lot. My opening bowler absolutely nailed the star batter – ironically a good mate’s lad – stone dead in front of his stumps, not once, but twice in successive balls.
Worse still my youngster had stuck to a plan we had, convinced we could bowl him as long as he did not get his pads in the way. Twice reprieved, Young Matty Topham went on to smash us to all parts giving his team momentum and confidence, leaving my lot thinking I had taken a “bung”.
Losing Should Hurt
Losing can take many varying forms; whilst the mental pain of losing is bad enough, I would imagine the physical pain from being smashed to a pulp in a boxing ring or on a rugby field is not pleasant.
Likewise, some defeats can inflict mental and psychological pain alone, especially if you have to face the same side later in the same season they have just drubbed you. Few look forward to the possibility of being humiliated twice, although the glorious unpredictability of sport often produces outcomes you could barely dream of in the return fixture
In football you can attempt to limit the damage, generally because the game has a defined time span and so y,ou boot the ball out of touch at every available opportunity, hopefully into a fast flowing river.
Sometimes, when you really are down and out adversity spawns resistance hitherto not seen. One Sunday morning we were 9-1 down with some twenty minutes to go when it suddenly dawned on us as a unit how bad 10-1 and beyond would look in tomorrow’s paper.
Consequently, for the remainder of the game we played better than we had all season and even snuck a consolation goal; still 9-2 hardly looked a good reason to go buy the local rag.
When It’s Your Day
The same effect is seen in cricket when, often batting second and with the game apparently lost, somebody not known for their batting ability can stride to the wicket and smash it to all parts. Using the technique patented by the hopeless tail-ender – hit one, miss five – this is commonly known in cricket as “teeing off” and generally is great fun so long as you are not the bowling side.
On the receiving end, the initial amusement is suddenly chilled by the reality that this is this guy’s best day ever and you just happen to be on the end of it.
Losing the odd battle does not always mean losing the war. In cricket, it is the dual between batter and bowler. Two of the best I have ever seen were at the very top level, thanks to my flexible work-life balance with Barclays. In both cases the legendary South African fast bowler Allan Donald was centre stage.
In both instances too, the opponents were England batters, both high class players but with entirely different game plans and styles.
Mike Atherton, then England captain, was trying to steer England home to a tricky total of just over 200 to win a crucial test match. This would be no cakewalk against a highly competitive South African bowling attack led by Donald who was one of the fastest bowlers in the world at the time. England had already lost a couple of wickets and the next passage of play would be match defining.
Donald steamed in furiously and Atherton so clearly gloved a ball to the wicketkeeper Mark Boucher that I almost expected him to walk – it was so clearly “out”.
And yet, to the amazement of all, the umpire’s finger remained down – this was before the modern day referral system – but he must have been the only person in the ground that thought Atherton had not gloved it.
Brakes Off
Donald was incandescent and, after finally being persuaded to go back to his mark, he bowled one of the quickest, most frightening and exhilarating (unless you were Atherton) bowling spells I ever saw.
Both men gave nothing away and the contest could have gone either way; had Atherton succumbed there was no doubt that Donald would have fired South Africa to a vital win. As it was, Atherton, with some good fortune and a hard-bitten refusal to “walk” prevailed on the day and took England to a win.
He had won the key battle of the series and Donald had to accept defeat, although so obviously as a wronged man, which he did with the supreme grace of a top sportsman. It was humbling to witness.
Another Donald confrontation was with my favourite England batter of the time, the pugnacious, highly competitive, left-hander Graham Thorpe. Donald had decided to “bounce” Thorpe believing the diminutive, albeit classy, England player had a weakness against the short ball designed to break ribs and skulls. Most of us have.
Thorpe had other ideas and decided on a policy of taking on Donald by hooking and pulling him to all parts. The faster Donald bowled the more outrageous Thorpe’s counter-attacking with boundaries dispatched to all parts.
As furious as it was, it was clear that both men loved the adrenaline fuelled contest even if, with some balls flying past Thorpe’s nose and chin at 90mph plus, it was a curious form of enjoyment.
Both of these mini-contests were shaded by the batter, the bowler denied of a mix of justice and good fortune, but Donald demonstrated how sport teaches you to understand that winning is not possible each time you step on the field – no matter how well you play.
The Best Is All I Have
Some days giving it your all as Donald had done so on both occasions without any luck, is not enough. And some days things can go so blatantly against you it can be hard to retain the belief that your time will surely come again.
So if you are going to play competitive sport get used to the fact that you are going to lose, sometimes in a fashion so humiliating you wonder why you bothered to turn up for it is the glorious unpredictability of sport that mirrors life itself.
How sweet to be driving away from a game you expected to lose convincingly, having taken the spoils of victory against all expectations; there are, I believe, few better feelings in life.
And if I have ever appeared slightly over excited by the odd win then let me take you back to my 14-year-old self, proud skipper for the first time of our Under 14 team and with the records for season 1977 showing played 15, lost 15.
Learning to lose? At that age I had passed my Masters!
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