Drugs in Sport

The IAAF recently announced that they are doubling the suspension for a failed drugs test from two years to four years.  It is a welcome move.  But will other sports follow Athletics’ lead?  Recent high profile drugs revelations have lead me and millions of other sport lovers to question the integrity of competitive sport.  The public have been deceived so many times by cheats and cover-ups that patience is wearing thin.  Sports across the board need to get their act together and tackle this cancer head-on and with zero tolerance.

            The reality is that almost every major sport is tainted by drugs to some extent; to think otherwise would be highly naïve (motor-racing is the only sport in my mind that is relatively drug-free).  In disciplines such as Athletics, Boxing and Cycling, drugs have been prevalent for almost a century (the following Wikipedia article makes for depressing reading: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Doping_at_the_Tour_de_France) but in other sports it is only becoming more widely understood.  Cricket and Football have historically had relatively drug free existences but with the rewards so great in both sports these days, drugs are a real concern.  Where there is money to be made, the temptation to use drugs, and the people willing to supply them, will always be there.

            The sport with the largest connection to drugs is Cycling.  Since 1969, only seven winners of the great race have never been tainted or connected to drugs in their careers.  That means, on average, one in every six winners of the Tour did so riding clean.  It is a horrifying statistic but it is not all doom and gloom. The last three winners, Chris Froome, Bradley Wiggins and Cadel Evans have never failed a drugs test.  Cycling needed to go through the dark time in the late 90’s and early 2000’s to get where it is today.  In a way, the fact that so many cyclists returned positive tests meant that the cheats were getting caught and the wider public started to take notice.  The sport had to clear up its act otherwise it faced fading into anonymity.  However damaging the past scandals may have been and after years of sweeping cases under the carpet, it has helped shaped a healthier and hopefully drugs-free future for cycling.  (For those interested in cycling’s shady past, read Tyler Hamilton’s autobiography The Secret Race)

            The same cannot be said for Athletics.  The two positive drugs tests recently returned by star sprinters Asafa Powell and Tyson Gay were a real blow to a sport which has been plagued for years by such scandals.  During the Cold War, communist countries, such as the U.S.S.R and East Germany, systematically doped a large majority of their athletes (especially women) to win major sporting titles.  This was seen as an attempt to legitimise their totalitarian regimes not only to the outside world but also to their own people.  Ironically, Russia has over 40 high profile athletes suspended for positive drug tests today.  The sport was particularly shady in the 80’s and 90’s and not only in the Eastern-bloc.  There has always been doubt cast over Carl Lewis, with strong rumours that a positive drugs test was covered up by the authorities.  Florence Griffith Joyner, still the holder of both the women’s 100m and 200m world records, mysteriously lowered her personal bests in both events by half a second in 1988.  And lest we forget, our very own Linford Christie failed a drugs test in both 1988 and 1999.  More recently, American sprinter Justin Gatlin (who has failed two drugs tests in his career, yet mysteriously is still allowed to compete) and 400m runner Lashawn Merritt (who claimed his performance-enhancing drug was for use in the bedroom) have successfully returned to the sport after their respective suspensions.  This riles me a lot given that clean athletes are being denied their just deserts (earnings and medals) because of a cheat.  A convicted drug-taker should not be allowed to continue to earn a living from sport after making a decision to defame that same sport in such a shameful manner.

            The Balco scandal was probably the most infamous in all Athletics history.  It came to light that its founder, Victor Conte, had been supplying steroids and growth hormone to athletes across numerous sports, the most high profile of which were sprinters Tim Montgomery (at the time the 100m world record holder), Marion Jones and Dwain Chambers, baseball legend Barry Bonds, and boxer Shane Mosley.  The worrying thing about the Gay-Powell saga is that they had no excuses.  Tyson Gay effectively admitted that he had taken drugs by stating ‘I don’t have a sabotage story… I basically put my trust in someone and was let down.  I know exactly what went on, but I can’t discuss it right now.’  If athletes don’t know themselves precisely what they are putting into their bodies then they can have no excuse.  Putting your trust in another person is a risk that in this case backfired spectacularly.  I don’t think Tyson Gay is the type of man to wilfully gain an advantage through illegal means, but he has been naïve in his choice of advisors.  Knowing or unknowing, a positive drugs is still cheating and Gay and Powell deserve the sanctions they receive.

            It is perhaps easy to see how performance-enhancing drugs directly benefit stamina and power-based sports.  However, can such a skilled sport such as football profit from banned substanes?  The very successful Juventus team of the mid-90’s was systematically doped (without the players knowledge apparently) with the blood-boosting hormone EPO (common amongst cyclists at the time as it allowed one to ride at a higher intensity for longer).  Dutch players Jaap Stam, Edgar Davids and Frank De Boer all tested positive for nandrolone (which promotes artificial muscle growth and red blood-cell stimulation) in 2001.  The most heralded football coach in the world, Pep Guardiola, failed a drugs test for nandrolone in that same year.  New Liverpool signing Kolo Toure tested positive for a slimming aid in 2011 and Rio Ferdinand was suspended for 8 months in 2004 for missing a drugs test, although that was more dopey than doping.  In his compelling autobiography, Tony Cascarino revealed that he was injected with what club doctors called ‘vitamins’ and ‘minerals’ in his spell at Marseille in the early 90’s (Marseille weren’t exactly strangers to controversy after the match-fixing scandal in 1993).  I am slightly worried that football doesn’t currently do blood tests.  Urine samples have to be given by randomly selected players after every game but blood samples are not mandatory.  A blood test is a much more thorough way of detecting illicit substances in an athletes’ body.  Sports like Cycling and Athletics have gone so far as to set up a blood passport system (anti-doping agencies can check samples against each other to spot irregularities).  Football needs to act fast otherwise the situation risks getting out of hand.  A drug such as EPO can increase stamina and intensity by up to 20%, so not only can players play for longer, they can train harder too.  Yes it could result in some embarrassing findings but for the sake of the game, it is imperative.

            Even more worrying for football is the links it has to the Operation Puerto scandal in Spain.  Doctor Eufemiano Fuentes provided numerous athletes, mainly cyclists but also footballers with performance-enhancing drugs (including testosterone pills) and blood doping.  There are rumours that he supplied seasonal plans for Real Madrid and Barcelona, and also assisted Real Sociedad in systemised blood doping.  If this isn’t evidence enough that blood testing is required then I don’t know what is.  What is most ridiculous of all is that the judge presiding over the whole Fuentes case ruled that the blood bags should be destroyed.  This is evidence that could be vital in catching not only dopers of the past but drug cheats of the future.  It seems the Spanish authorities are desperate to cover up this humiliation.  They obviously have something to hide.

            Another sport that was named in Operation Puerto was tennis.  It is rumoured that Fuentes worked with many tennis players, including the Spanish Davis Cup team, bafflingly the most successful nation during the 2000’s in the competition.  Tennis, like football, requires high levels of not only skill but also fitness.  That small advantage that blood-doping can give you makes a sizeable difference at a professional level.  With tennis becoming so athletic it is no wonder stories of doping are abound.  Remember the likes of Boris Becker, Tim Henman, Andre Agassi?  All very fit guys in their own right, but compare their physique to modern day players like Rafael Nadal, Andy Murray, Tomas Berdych.  I’m not saying these players are doping, it’s just the physicality of the sport has got that much more intense that you have to be in top shape to even compete with the top players.  Agassi had his own well-documented troubles with recreational drugs but recently top-100 ranked player (not for long) Victor Troicki has been slapped with an 18-month ban for failing to provide a blood sample.  A week after that, world number 15, Maran Cilic, was banned for a positive test.  Richard Gasquet has also been nabbed but this was for cocaine use, which he claimed was via kissing a girl who had just taken some.  Encouragingly, tennis is pressing ahead with plans to introduce blood passports which should help catch potential drug cheats.

            Cricket is a sport that one wouldn’t usually connect with performance-enhancing drugs.  It has had its problems in the past with recreational drugs.  Ian Botham, Keith Piper, Ed Giddins, Dermot Reeve, Phil Tufnell, Graham Wagg and tragically, Tom Maynard have all been found to have taken recreational substances at some point in their careers.  But taking drugs to improve say one’s strength to hit the ball further wouldn’t necessarily be an advantage in cricket.  Timing is much more important than brute strength, though I dare say it couldn’t do any harm.  However, players have been known to take drugs to aid injury recovery.  The injury-prone Pakistani fast bowlers, Shoaib Akhtar and Mohammad Asif both failed tests for nandrolone in 2006 and were handed bans which were later overturned on appeal.  Asif claimed his was due to a faulty nutritional supplement.  He later failed a test in the IPL for steroids in 2008 and also was detained at Dubai airport that same year for possessing illegal substances – all apparently linked to injury recovery.  Sri Lankan batsman Upul Tharanga was handed a three-month ban in 2011 for a banned steroid which he claimed it was an herbal remedy for a shoulder injury.  The legendary rotund Australian text messager Shane Warne infamously missed the 2003 World Cup for taking a banned diuretic (allegedly one of his mother’s slimming pills – a believable argument).  With the increasing riches on offer to players, cricket needs to be more vigilant in its approach to drug-testing.  The rewards are so great and the sanctions relatively minor that one or two players are going to be tempted to take short-cuts.  The IPL is especially vulnerable in this respect.  Indeed, young Indian fast bowler Pradeep Sangwan returned a positive drugs test for steroids in this year’s IPL.

            Golf is another sport which has links to drugs and injury recovery.  Fijian Vijay Singh admitted using deer-antler spray, a banned growth-hormone on the World Anit-Doping Agency’s (WADA) list, but was acquitted after it was revealed that it wasn’t taken in sufficient enough quantities to enhance performance.  Tiger Woods was linked to controversial doctor Tony Galea during his recovery from knee-ligament surgery in 2008-9.  Galea had links to the Balco scandal and Victor Conte having been involved in both Marion Jones and Tim Montgomery.  Galea’s method involved taking blood from Woods, placing it in a centrifuge to increase red platelets (don’t ask), and injecting it back into the affected ligament, thus speeding up the healing process.  To me, this is no different from blood doping that cyclists used – surely artificially increasing the body’s red platelets is the same as artificially increasing the body’s red blood cells and oxygen capability.  The rules have tightened since 2010 on the procedure but I believe it still remains legal.  Now I’m not suggesting that Woods is a drugs cheat, but having links to a man who is known to be involved with Conte and human-growth hormone is a bit fishy.

            The ultimate skill sport, snooker is not exempt from drugs.  Bill Werbenuik took beta blockers in the 1980’s to slow his heart rate when at the table and Neal Foulds also admitted to having taken a similar substance.  It is doubtful whether this would have a positive effect on performance but if a player suffers from nerves, it could be beneficial.  Recreational substances have long been associated with snooker: Kirk Stevens was known to have taken cocaine and Ronnie O’Sullivan was disqualified from a tournament in the 90’s for testing positive for cannabis.  Jimmy White and Alex Higgins were also no strangers to drug scandals during their careers.

Rugby League recently found itself at the centre of a drugs scandal in Australia where six clubs have been implicated in doping thought to include AFL too.  There has been little information since the report in February but rumours are surfacing that supplements (mainly muscle growth-hormone) were administered by the clubs, not by the odd rogue player himself, which is more worrying.  AFL player Jobe Watson has admitted that he took a banned anti-obesity drug but only after signing a consent form provided by his club. (http://theconversation.com/essendon-scandal-a-symptom-of-australias-sporting-woes-12085).  This whole affair draws parallels with the Festina affair during the Tour de France in 1998, where drugs were found in the Festina team car, and subsequently numerous teams were under suspicion of providing illegal substances for their riders.  Closer to home, Bradford Bulls star Terry Newton was banned for two years for taking Human Growth Hormone.  Martin Gleeson also received a ban for a failed drugs test in 2011.  One can see the benefits of taking these sorts of drugs in sports like rugby where power and size are central factors.  Recreational drugs are also not uncommon – Australian Rugby League Star Wendell Sailor tested positive for cocaine in 2006, as did new Salford Red Devils forward Gareth Hock in 2009 whilst playing for Wigan Warriors.

Rugby Union is no stranger to drug scandals either.  2009 was a dark year for Bath Rugby Club in particular as their England prop Matt Stevens received a two year ban after failing a drugs test.  He later admitted to having taken cocaine on more than one occasion and confessed that he found it almost a relief that he had been caught.  Later that year, after an end-of-season party, four Bath players were embroiled in a scandal after allegations of cocaine abuse.  (http://www.rugbydump.com/2009/07/1023/the-ins-and-outs-of-the-bath-drugs-scandal).  Their Australian lock, Justin Harrison confessed and was handed an 8 month ban whilst the other three, co-captains Michael Lipman and Alex Crockett and Andrew Higgins all resigned after refusing to give samples.  However it is very rare that a Rugby Union player is found to have taken performance enhancing drugs which for the sport is a saving grace (http://www.bbc.co.uk/sport/0/rugby-union/24626491).

            Boxing is a shady sport that has had all manner of problems in the past and drugs are just one of the many issues facing it today.  It has a fairly lackadaisical attitude towards drug testing which it needs to rectify pretty quickly if it is to retain any credibility.  Recent scandals have included Lamont Peterson’s positive test for synthetic testosterone in 2011 which he failed in the lead up to his victory against Amir Khan.  Wrangling over drug testing scuppered plans for a ‘super-fight’ between Manny Pacquiao and Floyd Mayweather Jr in 2010 after negotiations over blood-testing failed to reach a conclusion.  Boxing doesn’t have a fixed set of anti-doping criteria which immediately sets the alarm bells ringing.  The drug-testing is not determined by a central body but is instead agreed between the two fighters themselves.  Legendary Mexican Juan-Manuel Marquez, before his sixth-round knockout of Manny Pacquiao last year, started to work with a less than reputable ‘conditioning coach’ Angel Hernandez, who has links to BALCO and Victor Conte (http://globalnation.inquirer.net/62195/did-drugs-nearly-kill-pacquiao).  Marquez’s physique was visibly more chiselled than at any point in his career and in his previous three meetings with Pacquiao, he had failed to knock down the Filipino.  Yet he put him on the canvas in round 3 and knocked him out cold in round 6 to record his first victory against his nemesis.  Worryingly, no drug testing of any sort was done pre-fight to either boxer.  In his most recent fight (which he lost to Timothy Bradley) Marquez caused controversy again by reneging on a pre-fight drug-testing deal (http://www.usatoday.com/story/sports/boxing/2013/10/08/drug-testing-rift-tim-bradley-juan-manuel-marquez-fight-is-on/2948991/).

            With the rewards on offer and the relatively minor sanctions, performance-enhancing drugs are an attractive proposition to sportsmen and women.  The only logical conclusion is to introduce a zero-tolerance policy of life bans for any convicted drugs cheat.  In the case of recreational drugs, a less hard-line approach would suffice given that often there are deep-set emotional reasons for such substance abuse.  There is a worrying trend in certain countries of drug-taking getting out of control.  During and after the 2010 Commonwealth Games, Indian athletes returned a disproportionate amount of positive drugs tests; similarly, Russia has over 40 suspended Athletes at the present time.  Chinese, Turkish and Greek authorities all have major problems with doping.  China in particular seems to have a particular problem with Swimming and Weightlifting.  There is a disturbing situation arising in Jamaican athletics where alongside Powell, two other high profile female sprinters, Sherone Simpson and double 200m Olympic Gold medallist Veronica Campbell-Brown, have returned positive drugs results amid claims that testing has been few and far between (http://www.bbc.co.uk/sport/0/athletics/24517780).  The worry is that the testers are always playing catch-up with the takers.  The introduction of blood passports is a big step in the right direction but until all governing bodies across all sports make it a top priority, the situation is not going to improve.

            I love sport.  When I was younger I would marvel at the seemingly super-human abilities of professional athletes on TV and wish I could do what they could.  The concept of someone achieving something by artificial means never enters a child’s head.  I suppose the first time I really took interest in a drugs scandal was Dwain Chambers’ positive test in 2003.  I couldn’t believe that an English sprinter would do such a thing.  I mean it is so un-English.  When Chambers pleaded guilty a little bit of me died inside.  I naively assumed that illegal narcotics were consigned to Athletics only.  Then the world of cycling was turned upside down after Floyd Landis’ positive test after his Tour de France ‘victory’ in 2006.  Again, I assumed it was an isolated case limited to a minor sport.  Yet, when the recent Lance Armstrong scandal reared its ugly head, I slowly started to realise that one should not take every amazing performance, every world-record, every breath-taking sporting moment at face value – and that is really sad.  I now have a slightly cynical view of the sporting world thanks to those athletes who decided to take the short-cut, the easy way, the cheater’s route to success.  I still love sport and I still marvel at sporting prowess but now, at the back of my mind, there is always some doubt.


This Wikipedia article makes for rather disheartening reading:



Can England be the Dark Horse?

Phew.  We’ve finally done it.  Qualification achieved; next stop Brazil and the World Cup, in the slightly unfamiliar territory of underdogs.  It’s strange to think that a side with such proven world class talent as Wayne Rooney, Steven Gerrard, Ashley Cole and er, James Milner is not classed as one of the favourites – but the shift in the football paradigm has been so marked in recent years that even the so called lesser teams are all more than technically proficient (witness Montenegro).  True, England did make a bit of a dog’s dinner of qualification from a group that, let’s be honest, was about as tough as a soufflé, and in doing so ruined their chances of being one of the top seeds.  Yet this could be seen as a good thing: the British public no longer has unrealistic expectations of its football team and neither does the rest of the world.  Consequently England can go into the tournament under the radar without so much pressure and attention.  This should release them from their familiar turgid tournament performances of recent times and hopefully result in at least a respectable showing in Brazil.

Reasons to be Cheerful:

  1. The younger generation of England players are really starting to make an impact.  Roy Hodgson’s selection of Andros Townsend was inspired and England finally has someone who can deliver some end product down the right flank (take note Theo Walcott).  Kyle Walker, Danny Welbeck and Daniel Sturridge are still relative novices at this level, yet have contributed significantly during this qualifying campaign (Welbeck especially).  With the likes of Jack Wilshere and Ross Barkley waiting in the wings (who seem at home on the international stage and could slot straight into the team), the future looks bright for the England team.
  2. Wayne Rooney has returned to form, and just in the nick of time.  After the Manchester United forward’s turbulent summer, he has settled down under David Moyes and is showing signs of returning to his top performances of three years ago.  I have noted a slight maturity in Rooney’s place.  Gone is the fearless tyro who would chase after everything like a dog on speed and shoot on sight.  He is now more measured in his play and has become a vital link man between the midfield and attack.  Couple this with a timely goal-scoring knack and England has a player who is absolutely crucial to any chance of success next summer.
  3. Leighton Baines.  As much as I rate Ashley Cole (even though he is a deplorable man he happens to be a very good footballer), the Everton man brings more to the table.  The way he overlapped time and again against Montenegro and Poland gave England an extra dimension that they have been crying out for.  People go on about how good Cole is at defending, but they don’t seem to realise that Baines is almost as good, and is also an infinitely more dangerous attacking threat.  He provided the delivery for Rooney’s opener against Poland and together with Gerrard, England have two of the most lethal dead-ball specialists in the world.  If England are to progress in Brazil, Hodgson must be bold – and that means selecting Baines.

Reasons to be fearful:

  1. Central defence.  Phil Jagielka and Gary Cahill are very good players in their own right, but will the likes of Neymar, Messi et al be losing sleep at the prospect of facing these two?  Almost certainly not.  Admittedly, the pair did manage to keep the Brazilian quiet last season at Wembley but that was only a friendly.  Nevertheless, the manner in which Poland wilfully opened up England like a can of beans was slightly worrying and had Robert Lewandowksi not left his shooting boots at the team hotel, the scoreline could have been very different.  Against better teams than Poland, England will be punished.  If either of the first choices get injured (God forbid) then the next in line are Phil Jones, Chris Smalling and Michael Dawson – all unproven at international level.  Oh for the good old days when England had Sol Campbell, John Terry, Rio Ferdinand, Ledley King and Jamie Carragher at their disposal…
  2. England only just managed to scrape out of a group that included such football powerhouses as Moldova, Ukraine, Montenegro and Poland (and San Marino).  Away from home, England only managed to beat Moldova and San Marino.  Now I know that going through a whole qualifying campaign unbeaten is impressive but when it comes to Brazil next year, plucky draws just won’t cut the mustard – witness England Neanderthal performance against Italy at Euro 2012.  Finding ways to win when you aren’t at your best is the hallmark of a quality team (e.g Spain in the 2010 World Cup Final).  England have beaten some of the world’s best teams in the past few seasons; Brazil, Spain and Sweden all spring to mind.  However England rarely does it when it matters in competitive matches at major tournaments.  Roy Hodgson must find a way to change this before next summer.
  3. Goalkeeper.  A lot of nonsense has been written about Joe Hart in recent weeks, most of which has been totally unjustified.  He had two commanding games against Montenegro and Poland and silenced the critics who had been slamming his recent performances.  He is the best keeper England have had since David Seaman hung up his gloves and hopefully he will remain between the sticks for a good while longer.  There comes a serious problem however if Hart gets injured.  England does not exactly have a wealth of goalkeeping talent at its disposal and below Hart the options are thin on the ground.  John Ruddy, Scott Carson and Jack Butland all have international experience but two of them play in the Championship and the other, Ruddy, plays for a team that are struggling in the Premier League relegation zone.  There has been recent clamour for the inclusion of Celtic’s Fraser Forster and I wholeheartedly agree.  He has played in the Champions League for the past two seasons against some of the world’s best (Barcelona three times in the past year alone) and hence has experience at the top level.  He should at least be given a chance because if, touch wood, something befalls Joe Hart, England needs someone of the requisite ability to step into his rather sizeable shoes.

So there you have it.  England almost certainly won’t win the World Cup but at least they will be at the tournament and these days, that is an achievement in itself.  I would be happy if England simply progressed out of their group and in doing so played some attractive football that made the rest of the world sit up and take note.  Many things aren’t in their favour – the biggest of which is the heat they will have to endure but, if they trust in their ability (maybe don’t trust James Milner’s), they can hopefully achieve something (not being a laughing stock would be a start) especially if they can stay under the radar and out of the spotlight.  At least I have an excuse to spend a whole month in front of the telly and for that England, I thank you.  Roll on next summer.

Sporting Heartbreak

As a sport lover, one of the questions I get asked most often is ‘Why do you like sport?  What’s so great about watching a load of people running around indulging in an ultimately pointless and futile activity?’  All right, they might not use quite so many words, but the tone used often implies them.  It’s an interesting question – there are many things that make sport, both the playing and the watching, utterly marvellous, and it is usually very difficult to elucidate these when put on the spot in that way.

Don’t worry, this particular article isn’t going to be chock-full of pseudo-intellectual bollocks on the meaning of sport; it will still be dripping with pseudo-intellectual bollocks of course, but on a slightly different subject.  One of the things that I find wonderful about sport is that it causes the participant or watcher to feel some pretty strong and intense emotions, but via a medium that ultimately doesn’t matter.  So the sight of your team scoring a goal causes elation and excitement, but fleetingly, and if they didn’t score at that particular moment, you wouldn’t miss the brief high.  However, sport can also cause distress, sadness, and occasionally real heartbreak.  In this article I would like to detail some of sport’s most heartbreaking moments.

Before starting, I should acknowledge the debt the format of this article owes to The Guardian’s excellent Joy of Six series – if you have a few hours to spare, look up the back catalogue online; one of life’s most enjoyable ways to waste time.  As the old saying goes – if you can’t beat ‘em, steal ‘eir idea and pass it off as your own.


1. Andy Roddick v Roger Federer, Wimbledon Final 2009

Recent Wimbledon finals have seen plenty of outpourings of emotion, whether it be in victory, such as Pat Cash’s perilous ascent up to his family in the players’ box in 1987 (a move now seemingly de rigeur for any champion), Goran Ivanisevic’s touching incredulity after his victory as a wild-card in 2001, and, dare we say it, Andy Murray’s relief this year, or in defeat, most famously Jana Novotna’s world collapsing in 1993, but also including Rafael Nadal in 2006, Andy Murray again, last year, and Sabine Lisicki this year.  However, for me Roddick’s loss to Federer in 2009 was the most heartbreaking precisely because he didn’t break down in floods of tears afterwards.

Men’s tennis in the United States is, while not in a parlous state, nowhere near as strong as it was in the 80s and 90s, where American men would routinely contest Grand Slam finals, often against each other.  There seemed to be an endless production line of world-class players from Ashe, Connors and McEnroe to Chang, Courier, Agassi and Sampras, and when Andy Roddick first came onto the scene, it was assumed he would be the next in that line.  Since then, despite the likes of Jan-Michael Gambill, Robby Ginepri, James Blake, John Isner and Mardy Fish (one of sport’s greatest names), Roddick is the only American player who has consistently been in the top 10, top 5 even.  He, like Lleyton Hewitt, straddled the era between Sampras/Agassi and Federer/Nadal, and therefore was at his peak ranking-wise at a young age.

He was clearly an excellent player, although, if not an enfant terrible, at least an enfant assez mal, prone to on-court outbursts and racket throwing.  His serve was his main weapon, but he also had an excellent forehand, and his backhand improved as he got older.  What he lacked in comparison with the greats was tactical nous, and the ability to mix up his play.  However, he won a Grand Slam, the 2003 US Open, and before 2009 had reached three other finals, Wimbledon in 2004 and 2005, and the US Open in 2006, each time losing to Federer.

Federer in 2009 was a player just starting to wane.  Defeats to Nadal in the 2008 Wimbledon final and the 2009 Australian Open final (the latter loss prompting a biblical outpouring of tears) had dented his aura somewhat, but with Nadal incapacitated by knee trouble, he won the French Open in May 2009 to complete a career Grand Slam, and also move level with Pete Sampras on 14 Grand Slams.  He was clearly the player to beat at SW19, and he moved through the rounds serenely, losing only one set before the final.  Roddick had come through a titanic 5-set quarter-final against Lleyton Hewitt, before turning Pete Sampras to Andy Murray’s Tim Henman in the semi-final and sending yet another year’s worth of British tennis fans home disappointed.  He was clearly playing well, and serving excellently, but there were doubts as to whether he could seriously challenge Federer, whom he had never beaten in a Grand Slam.

Everything was set up for Federer to win his record-breaking 15th Grand Slam.  It was at Wimbledon, his favourite venue.  Past legends Bjorn Borg and Rod Laver were in attendance, while Pete Sampras turned up halfway through to much fanfare, his first visit to Wimbledon since 2002.  But Roddick would not stick to the script.  He played the match of his life, and it was all Federer could do to hang on.  Most importantly Roddick served out of his skin, barely giving his opponent a sniff.  As a result Federer was always under pressure when serving himself, although with typical insouciance he usually brushed it aside.

In terms of pure tennis it wasn’t a particularly good game, being effectively a serve competition.  Roddick broke twice to win two sets, while Federer won two on a tie-break.  The final set was particularly attritional, but Federer managed to cling on to his serve on every occasion, and just waited for his chance.  Finally, after 37 consecutive holds of serve (a consistency which is frankly astonishing) Roddick was broken in the final game of the match, losing 16-14 in the fifth.

It is in Roddick’s response to defeat that the real heartbreak lies.  For him to break down and bawl his eyes out would have been a perfectly reasonable course of action.  He had played probably as well as it was possible to play in a match against a man who he would beat only three times in his career, at the final of tennis’ most prestigious tournament, one which he had been told from a young age was the most likely for him to win, and yet he had still lost.  It must have been crushing.  He must have felt conflicting emotions, proud at himself for having played absolutely to his potential, but at the same time utterly deflated.  Here was a man who needed an outlet for these emotions.  As the microphone-toting Sue Barker approached for the on-court post-match interview you felt sure that the waterworks were imminent.

Instead Roddick gave an interview of quite staggering magnanimity.  He praised Federer for his performance, he thanked the crowd, he even made a joke.  But all the while, you could see the devastation lurking just below the surface.  From the moment he was introduced to the crowd as runner-up and received a tumultuous ovation, to the moment he walked off the court Roddick was struggling to keep his emotions to himself.  As any actor will tell you, it touches people so much more if they can see you trying to supress the fact you are upset, rather than just crying straight out.  We have all been in situations where we know we shouldn’t cry, but just can’t help it, and so can empathise when we see it in others.  That Roddick managed to get through that presentation ceremony and interview with barely a tear is to his immense credit.  No-one would have been surprised had he broken down – in fact most may have expected it – but his refusal to do so makes this defeat of his far more heartbreaking.  This game should have been all about Federer breaking Sampras’ record, but, even to a Wimbledon crowd that is perennially pro-Federer, Roddick’s conduct made it more about him.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lR79Bi-GqB4 – watch it here, and compare Roddick’s speech to Federer’s egocentric crassness.

2. Felipe Massa 2008 Brazilian Grand Prix

The thing about sport is that it’s a competition, therefore at the end there has to be a winner and there has to be a loser.  That may sound like stating the bleeding obvious, but bear with me.  As a youngster playing sport, you are often fobbed off with platitudes after defeat such as ‘you were all winners out there’ and ‘it’s not the winning, but the taking part.’  This may indeed be true at the level of junior or social sport, but at the highest level, winning is everything, not just to assuage the competitive instinct, but also because defeat may be the difference between getting a playing contract for the next year, or indeed a large amount of prize money.  So it is of little consolation to the elite sportsperson to lose a hugely memorable contest.

The climax to the 2008 Formula One season was famously one of the most dramatic moments in any sport.  The denouement was such that the writers of Happy Days would have dismissed it as fanciful, and Ripley’s Believe It Or Not, would have cast it firmly into the Not section.  Coming into the final race of the season, Lewis Hamilton had 94 points and Felipe Massa had 87.  Both drivers had won 5 races, and the permutations were thus: if Hamilton finished 5th or higher, then the 4 points he would gain would be enough to win the title, wherever Massa were to finish; if Massa won, and Hamilton finished lower than 5th, then Massa would be World Champion; if Massa finished second and Hamilton finished out of the points, then Massa would be champion; if Massa finished second and Hamilton eighth, then everyone who tried to work out the mathematics of it all would spontaneously combust because of its complexity, and the championship declared null and void.  I made that last bit up, mainly because I’m not sure what would have happened.  Arm wrestle maybe?

As with Federer above, it seemed as though all was perfectly set up for Massa to triumph.  The script had been written.  It was his home Grand Prix, Hamilton had choked from a similar position the season before, and two races previously a controversial Japanese Grand Prix had involved a collision between the two title rivals that caused Hamilton to rejoin at the back of the field from where he was unable to conjure up a points finish.  Would the two points Massa gained that day prove vital?

The race was an exciting one, with intermittent rain causing all sorts of tyre changes.  With 8 laps remaining, Massa was leading, but Hamilton was in a fairly comfortable fourth position.  Then it started to rain.  All the leaders came into the pits to change from dry to intermediate tyres, with one exception, the Toyota of Timo Glock.  When the order had re-settled after the pit-stop flurry, Hamilton found himself in 5th position, still ahead in the Championship, but with Sebastian Vettel, then merely an annoyingly precocious German, up his chuff.  Struggling for grip, and hampered by back-markers, Hamilton ran wide with two laps remaining, allowing Vettel through, and seemingly once again coughing up his Championship chances.  He chased Vettel for two laps, but couldn’t get close enough to even attempt a pass, and that, you thought, was that.

But remember Timo Glock?  The man who had decided not to change his tyres?  He was now in fourth place, but struggling badly on an increasingly wet track on slick tyres, his lap times dropping furiously.  On the final corner of the final lap, Vettel and Hamilton caught him and passed him, thrusting the Englishman up to 5th position, and making him World Champion.  In the Ferrari garage the mechanics and the Massa family celebrated, unaware of this last minute pass, before someone tells them the bad news.  The look on the faces of Massa’s father and brother as they realise what has happened is heartbreaking.  It is almost impossible to believe a countenance can change from elation to disbelief to devastation in such a short space of time.  That the entire season should come down to the final corner of the final race is incredible, but for Massa the fact that he played his part in such an exhilarating finish was of no consolation.

In hindsight it is even more heartbreaking.  Massa was gracious in defeat, saying ‘I know how to lose and I know how to win and as I said before it is another day of my life from which I am going to learn a lot,’ and intimating that he was looking forward to challenging for the title again, but this was his best chance.  A year later he suffered a near-fatal injury at the Hungarian Grand Prix, and hasn’t been the same driver since.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VsLX2Uen2dc – watch the final laps here.

3. Derek Redmond, 400m semi-final, Barcelona 1992

Why do we empathise with sportsmen and women when they break down in public?  It’s not as if we can put ourselves precisely in their situation.  99.9% (a conservative estimate) of people watching an elite sporting event will never come anywhere near to experiencing what a sportsperson does – performing, after years of hard work, sacrifice and practice, in front of a vast audience, knowing that every action you take will be scrutinised, over-analysed and dissected until the cows have returned to their domiciles.  We can recognise, however, the pain of failing to attain something we desperately want, and when that failure comes because of something arguably out of your control, the distress is intensified.  Derek Redmond’s famous breakdown at the Barcelona Olympics contains this form of heartbreak, along with oh so much more.

Redmond was a genuinely high-class athlete, although not a world-class one.  He held the British record at 400 metres twice, and was part of the team that won the 4x400m relay at the 1991 World Championship (involving a goose-pimple-inducing final lap from Kriss Akabusi).  He was, however, injury-prone; he had missed the previous Olympics thanks to achilles-knack, and had undergone 8 operations during his career by the time he arrived in Barcelona.

His performances in the early rounds suggested Redmond was now in the form of his life.  Nearly 27, perhaps his body had matured enough to withstand the rigours of international athletics.  He breezed through the first round, setting the fastest time of all the qualifiers, and then won his quarter-final with ease.  He was expected to have no trouble qualifying for the final, before, hopefully, bothering the medal positions in the final.

Looking relaxed before the race, Redmond started well, running smoothly and easily, and looked to be in a good position, before, around halfway through the race, he clutched his right hamstring and came to a very abrupt halt.  This is a mildly heartbreaking scenario in itself; injury-prone athlete, seemingly recovered and performing at the peak of his ability, is let down by his body again at a crucial stage.  We’ll call this your common, or garden, sporting heartbreak.  A few moments later, we see the heartbreak-o-meter ramped up to level 3, as Redmond decides that, despite being practically lame, he wishes to finish the race and starts hobbling around the track towards the finish line.  What is interesting to notice is that he still stays in his lane as he slowly progresses, as if his muscle memory is preventing him from straying out of lane and risking disqualification.  Redmond said that his motivation for completing the race at this point was that, in his addled state he believed that he could still catch the other runners, and by finishing could still potentially fulfil his dream and reach the final.

As he rounds the bend, with pain and distress etched on his face, a figure emerges from the crowd, fighting off the (rather flimsy) attentions of the security guards, and approaches Redmond.  It turns out to be his father and mentor, dressed rather comically in blue shorts, a large white Nike cap, and a T-shirt with the slogan ‘Have you hugged your foot today?’  The heartbreak-o-meter goes up to 11 before exploding in a billow of smoke, as Redmond, becoming aware of his father by his side breaks down completely, collapsing onto his shoulder and sobbing uncontrollably.  They cross the line together, Redmond absolutely broken while his father, remarkably calmly given the circumstances, shoos away any official who dares to approach.  The crowd, recognising a seminal moment with far more perception than said officials, cheer themselves hoarse as Redmond Sr leads his emotional wreck of a son off the track, to somewhere where he can grieve more privately.

The footage of this incident has been replayed countless times, and yet it never fails to move.  There is so much to it, the emotion as multi-layered as an onion.  The advent of Redmond’s father is where the heartbreak becomes too much to bear, as we see a fully grown man, a top-class athlete, revert to being a small child, seeking comfort and solace in the arms of a parent.  It’s something I’m sure many of us have wished we could do when times get tough.  They say that there is no love that can surpass that of a parent for a child, and Redmond Sr (enough shilly-shallying, he has a name, so let’s use it.  He’s called Jim.) acts in a beautifully caring way.  He instinctively knows what to do – he at first joins his son, just offering his presence if it is required; next he comforts his son, all the while continuing to help his towards his goal, the finish line; and finally he protects his son from the attentions of the green-jacketed officials.  There are tens of thousands of people in the stadium.  There are hundreds of millions watching on television, but for Jim and Derek Redmond there are only two people present, a caring father comforting his devastated son.  For me, this is the most moving occurence I have ever seen in sport.

Sadly the only footage on YouTube is of montages set to vomit-inducingly saccharine music, but this video http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Nifq3Ke2Q30 is the closest I could find to experiencing the event as it happened.  I challenge you not to cry.

4. Simon Shaw, Lions v South Africa 2nd Test, 2009

Any regular readers of this blog (stop sniggering at the back there – it could happen) will know that I have a bit of a thing for the British and Irish Lions.  It’s wonderful how a scratch team (of admittedly extremely good players) can, after a handful of training sessions, mix it against one of the top three international teams in world rugby (we’ll forget about the 2005 tour to New Zealand for the moment).  Most rugby players share the same love of the concept of the Lions, and for many the ultimate dream, and the ultimate accolade is to pull on the famous red jersey.

In 2009 Simon Shaw was approaching 36 years of age.  He had played top-flight rugby for nearly twenty years, international rugby for thirteen, had toured with the Lions in 1997 and 2005, and was generally regarded as one of the hardest men in the game.  His call-up to the Lions squad was unexpected and fully deserved – he was tough, fit, brimming with experience, a huge presence in the set-piece and, above all, a leader and winner.  Although definitely not a favourite for a starting place in the Test team, his presence on tour was expected to be a bonus, and he certainly wouldn’t shy away from any physical challenge.

To be honest the 2009 Lions tour is one of sport’s ‘what ifs…?’  What if Ugo Monye could keep hold of a rugby ball?  What if Adam Jones had started the first test?  What if the referee had had the stones to send Schalk Burger off in the first minute of the second test?  What if none of Jamie Roberts, Brian O’Driscoll and Adam Jones had got injured in the second test?  What if Ronan O’Gara’s parents had persuaded him a rugby career was a terrible idea?  The Lions should have won the first test, choked in the second test, and won the third at a canter when it didn’t matter.  Like the team that toured Australia in 2001, they played some mind-blowing rugby, and still managed to find a way to lose.

After losing the first test, despite threatening to complete one of sport’s all-time great comebacks, the Lions made a few (some enforced) changes to their team, including replacing the rangy athletic Alun Wyn Jones with Shaw, who partnered Paul O’Connell in what is scientifically proven to be the most gnarled second row pairing of all time.  The game was a belter.  Stephen Jones, the Sunday Times Rugby Correspondant, and generally held as the authority on rugby in these isles (when he’s not being unreasonably patriotic about Wales) rates it as the greatest test he’s ever seen.  Frankly you could write a Tolstoy-esque tome on the match.  Suffice to say South Africa won the game 28-25, with a last minute penalty from inside his own half by Morne Steyn, thus taking an unassailable 2-0 lead in the series.  The Lions, and their fans, were devastated.

Out of all the team sports, rugby is probably the hardest to shine in as an individual.  All 15 players need to contribute, and much of the most valuable work is unseen, or at least unheralded.  However, in this game Simon Shaw was demonstrably magnificent.  He won line-out ball; he tackled non-stop; he was omni-present at the breakdown; he was prominent in the loose, carrying ball, making breaks, offloading with a hitherto unsuspected dexterity.  In short he, like Roddick, played the game of his life, and still lost.

To paraphrase The Cure, rugby players don’t cry; especially not hard bastard forwards.  As man of the match, Shaw was interviewed afterwards, and from the very beginning you can see the pain in his face.  His answers are delivered in a flat, tired voice, but you can see he is trying to provide as much good humour as is possible, a thoroughly decent bloke doing his best to help out the interviewer who seems to understand that this is a pretty thankless task for both of them.  Towards the end of the interview, the interviewer (not sure who he is, sorry) suddenly gushes out a torrent of praise for Shaw, telling him that he’s never seen him play so well in all his career, and asking how it felt finally, at the age of 36 on his third tour, to play for the Lions in a test match.  Not many of us are comfortable with receiving such praise that directly, especially not when we are feeling as distraught as Shaw was then.  You can see the tears start to well up in his face as he searches for a way to reply that won’t unleash the waterworks, eventually coming up with the pathetic (in its original sense) ‘I would’ve liked to have won today,’ like the good team player he is.  He did, however, manage to keep the tears in, thus preventing him from being banished from the rugby forwards’ union.

Here’s the interview in full http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=D9-WejPDRyY

5 & 6 Darren Clarke, Ryder Cup, 2006 and Matthias Steiner, Beijing Olympics, 2008

In a sense, these two examples don’t belong here.  While the previous stories have been of heartbreaking moments occurring because of sport, these two are of heartbreak within a sporting context.  Yet because they happened within a sporting context, and both within contexts where the stakes were so high, they do belong.

Let’s begin with Clarke.  A popular player, famous for always having a cigar on the go, he seemed, along with the similarly rotund Colin Montgomorie, to be destined to finish his career as an unfulfilled talent.  A smooth backswing led to consistency off the tee, but he was let down around the green somewhat, and, despite regularly bothering the leaderboard at major championships, had never been able to make the step up from very good to great.  In the Ryder Cup, however he was a different proposition, especially in the fourballs, where he could afford to play the risky shot that you often cannot when playing just for yourself.  A final record of played 20, won 10, halved 3 is excellent.

In 2004 Clarke’s life and that of his family changed forever, when his wife, Heather, was diagnosed with secondary breast cancer, a particularly devastating blow as she had come through primary breast cancer in 2001.  Over the next couple of years he played little golf, nursing Heather through the illness until, in August 2006, she died.

Six weeks later, at the K Club in County Kildare, the Ryder Cup started.  Given his partial withdrawal from golf over the previous two years, Clarke did not qualify to be on the Europe team automatically, but the captain, Ian Woosnam, had said that if Clarke was ready, he would be one of his wildcard picks.  Presumably needing the catharsis, Clarke decided to play and, supported by his teammates, including his very close friends Paul McGinlay and Lee Westwood, won all three of his matches as Europe walloped the Americans 18 ½ points to 9 ½.  The wall of sound that greeted him as he stepped up to the first tee in his first match was hair-raising, a reception he received throughout the tournament.  As he knocked it his putt to seal a 3&2 win over Zach Johnson in the singles, the crowd on the 16th gave him a thundering prolonged ovation, reducing Clarke, many of the other players, and probably most of the crowd to tears.  When asked what he felt in the moments after that putt had gone in, he replied ‘emotions that I hope you never have to feel.’

The story of Matthias Steiner is similar in that it involves the death of a spouse and the use of sport to help in the grieving process.  However, there is much more to it than that.

Steiner is a heavyweight weightlifter born in Vienna.  Starting in the under 105kg category, he competed internationally for Austria for several years, finishing 7th at the 2004 Olympic Games.  However, things went sour at the 2005 European Championships – Steiner had decided that the efforts to keep his weight under 105kg was too much, and so competed in the over 105kg category for the first time.  After disagreeing with his coach over how much he should attempt for his first lift, he proceeded to fail to complete all three of his lifts, with the national federation accusing him of having deliberately failed his final one.  Steiner got in a huff and vowed never to represent Austria again in international competition.

Luckily, this didn’t mean the end of his international ambitions – earlier that year he had married a German girl named Susann (they met due to some mildly stalker-ish behaviour on her part – after seeing Steiner on TV, she pestered Eurosport with e-mails until they finally gave her his contact details, but we won’t dwell on that).  As a result, he could qualify to represent Germany, which would mean three years of non-competition in any international event.  He would be eligible to compete again in 2008, which just happened to be Olympic year.

In his three years out, Steiner concentrated hard on bulking up, ready to be able to compete in the over 105kg category.  However, in the summer of 2007, Susann died in a car accident.  Steiner was, as you might imagine, devastated, stopped training and lost 8kg, quite a significant amount if you’re lifting more than twice your own body weight.  Eventually, using Susann’s memory as an incentive, he started training again, getting himself in peak condition as the 2008 season started.

An overall silver at the European Championships proved that he had used his time away from competition well, and, with the giant Iranian world record holder Hossein Rezazadeh retiring just before the Olympics, there was no obvious favourite.  To cut a long story short, big blokes lifted implausible amounts of metal one after another, until eventually it came to the final lift in the competition.  Steiner, in the clean and jerk, would have to lift 258kg, 10kg more than he had never managed before, to win the gold medal.

There could only be one outcome, I suppose.  Steiner steps up, looking incredibly determined, but also clearly struggling emotionally.  He composes himself somewhat, bends down to grab the weight, and lifts.  Somehow, from somewhere, he finds the ability to lift the bar first to his shoulders and then above his head, his eyes almost popping out of his face with the effort.  As he slams the bar down the realisation kicks in.  He lets out a scary animal-like roar, clutches momentarily at his chest, and then goes beserk, totally unsure of how to celebrate.  He jumps up and down; he rips off his outer vest; he hugs; he kisses the floor; he waves to the crowd, all accompanied by shouts of who knows what emotion that seem to come from deep down in his gut.  Knowing what has occurred before, you cannot fail to be moved by the release of it all, watching this man who has lived the last year under the most extreme emotional pressure, who is only able to compete here because of someone who cannot be with him to share his joy.  To top it all off, Steiner holds a photo of his wife on the podium as he receives his medal, before sobbing – not crying, not weeping, but sobbing – through the national anthem.  Heartbreak can occur in sporting victory, as well as defeat.

Slim YouTube pickings on these, but http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xLN4OHxfbGQ for Steiner, and http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cWBwasy_h7I (briefly, at around 2mins 30 – make sure you fast forward through the nauseating spectacle of the USA winning at Brookline in 1999, wearing those t-shirts) for Clarke.



NFL at Wembley

I was fortunate enough to attend the NFL match between the Minnesota Vikings and the Pittsburgh Steelers last weekend at Wembley.  What an experience it was.  A close game that went down to the final play between two evenly matched teams in an atmosphere entirely alien to an English sporting audience.  If you think the Premier League is ruled by advertisements and TV companies, then the American Football coverage takes it to a different level.  ‘Timeouts’ litter the action and TV ads interrupt play at every feasible opportunity, in some instances delaying the game deliberately.  Yet, when you are in the crowd, none of this seems to matter.  An NFL match is like a well-oiled machine; as soon as the action has stopped, an army of scantily-clad, implausibly athletic cheerleaders enter the field of play (or some piss-poor male-dominated drumming band – thankfully dressed more conservatively) and suddenly, you don’t care if there is a 2 minute pause.  In fact, all these intermissions are handy because they allow you to nip to the loo or top up your dwindling beer supplies.  Yes NFL allows the supporter to actually see the pitch with a beer in hand.  Shocking I know.

            Whilst ambling along Bobby Moore way to the stadium I noticed two things.  One, I, wearing a black suit and black shirt, was subject to quizzical stares from American Football aficionados because of my outrageous choice of attire.  Apparently if you don’t wear a ridiculously colourful and oversize replica NFL jersey, you are identified as a complete outcast.  The other was the sheer number of different NFL tops on show.  It seemed like the whole American Football fraternity had come out in force, not just Vikings and Steelers fans.  How many times have you been to a Chelsea match and seen Liverpool, Arsenal or Man Utd shirts milling around too?  Fans of all franchises were on show, happy just to revel in watching the sport they love.  There was no segregated seating either; fans of both teams sat side by side without any problems.  That is not say that the atmosphere was jovial and unpassionate.  When the PA announcer in his wonderful American drawl implored the crowd to ‘make some noise,’ a deafening roar ensued as if England had just won the Ashes, the World Cup and Six Nations in one fell swoop.  Flags of the respective franchises were waved fervently and I must say, although it was very un-English, I found it a wonderful experience.

            Is that all American Football is though?  An unashamed commercialised spectacle that has no real sporting merit to it?  Well yes and no.  The television coverage of NFL is an advertisement orgy where companies fall over each other to be associated with the sport.  Even half-time has a sponsor.  Yet none of the teams are allowed a shirt sponsor (which occurs in cricket, football, rugby union and rugby league), only the logo of their respective kit supplier.  There is no doubt that the game is tailored towards a TV audience but interestingly that the game doesn’t suffer as a live sporting occasion.

            The sport itself is not very difficult to understand.  Some of the technical jargon is slightly unnecessary but the basic aims of the game are pretty simple; the attacking team has four attempts to move 10 yards up the field; once this is achieved, the whole process re-starts until either the attacking team score a touchdown/field goal or the defensive team prevent them from advancing 10 yards, who in turn become the attacking team.  The game is all about speed and power and the physical shape some of these American chaps are in is absolutely ridiculous.  Some of the defensive line are more power than speed admittedly, but they are still not lacking in skill and strength.  What is slightly ridiculous is the sheer number of players in an NFL squad.  There are at least three specialist teams (offense, defense, kick-off/punt) as well as replacements for all these players.  The quarter-back obviously has the most important job but surely the easiest of the lot is the kicker.  All he does is kick field goals, conversions, punts and re-starts.  He is probably on the pitch for a total of one minute per match.  Not a bad way to make a living.

            The best player last Sunday was the running-back Adrian Peterson for Minnesota.  He scored two touchdowns and looked a livewire throughout the match with his powerful running and quick footwork.  However it is not only offensive players who get all the praise.  Defense is arguably as important and the Vikings’ defensive end Jared Allen had storming game, sacking (when the quarter-back is tackled before releasing the ball resulting in a loss of yardage) Pittsburgh’s Ben Roethlisberger at least three times (I started losing count as the number of beers consumed increased).  Another admirable trait of the NFL is how the umpires are universally respected.  Not one player showed dissent – they simply accepted their decisions and got on with the game.  Football, take note.

            I would urge everyone to give American Football a chance.  Many friends have dismissed the game without really getting to know the idiosyncrasies of it.  Yes, on the television it can become irritating with the endless commercials and breaks in play but to see it live in the stadium is a totally different experience.  The atmosphere is incredible and the entertainment, both on and off the field, is memorable.  The shameless Americaness is actually a refreshing change from the often traditional stoicism of English sport.  If you get the opportunity to watch a game live, either at Wembley or elsewhere, take it.  You won’t be disappointed.