SPORTING LIFE
Clive Gammon
This is the Sportsman of the Year season, and before going any further I want to make it clear that I am interpreting that word quite literally. There will be no mention in this cowardly column of sportswoman of the year once I have paid tribute to the delightful lady cricketer who came, I think, sixth on the Daily Express list but who was easily first, for wit and self-possession, when the awards were made at the Savoy, in declaring firstly that though she and her colleagues were not Amazons, over-arm bowling was invented by women and if we were still puzzled at what protective clothing they wore, then it was coconut shells. That said, I must express my own incredulity that in both the Daily Express poll and the BBC one, Barry John was placed only third. Admittedly John Dawes, the Lions' captain, also appeared in the Daily Express list and ran in seventh, so that the pro-Lions vote was split. And in the BBC awards, the Lions themselves won the team event. Nevertheless it seemed to be so clear that there was nothing to compare with John's achievement in the world of sport in 1971. Jackie Stewart, who was first in the Daily Express ratings, was clearly highly successful in winning six Grand Prix and becoming world champion. But he's done this before, and to be perfectly honest I don't believe that motor-sport makes much of an impact on the British public. Anyway, the big difference between his achievement and that of Barry John (and the Lions) was that everyone expects Jackie Stewart to win. Only a few bold spirits gave the Lions a chance, and the eclipse of Barry John was something one feared when they first went out to New Zealand.
Even Ken Buchanan in his tartan boxing shorts was placed ahead of John. All right, he is a world champion too, though I fancy that his success made much more impact in the US than over here. Even so, he was a far better Number Two (as he was in the Daily Express poll) than Wee Georgie Best who occupied that position in the BBC list. But of course the BBC award was for Sports Personality of the Year, not for the best sportsman, so I suppose in a curious sort of way you could make out a case for Best, right enough.
As to the greatest sporting moment of the year, my own nomination would be for those extraordinary seconds of tension at Murrayfield in injury time, Scotland versus Wales, you will recall, and a Scots lead almost negated by a Welsh try in the last seconds. There was just time for John Taylor to attempt a very difficult conversion from the touchline — for Wales a win or lose kick.
It went over right enough but the extraordinary thing to watch was the way Taylor ran back to his place on the field for the resumption. The only visible indication of emotion was the way in which he clenched and reclenched his fists as he ran. Try to see that film one day, Georgie lad.
It reminded me of a moment, long ago, when the great Lewis Jones was required to put over a similar kick for Wales in the dying moments of the game. All that afternoon, in the old North Stand at Cardiff Arms Park, I had been tormented by the presence behind me of some absurd, vociferous drunk who had screeched obscenities, encouraging to the Welsh, antagonistic to (was it?) the English, with hardly a pause. Even he, though, was silenced when Jones came up to take the kick. When it went over, I expected a similar outburst of crowing, filthy braggadocio to those that had greeted other Welsh scores, but no. There was silence. I turned to see tears running from eyes that contrived to be bloodshot and shining at once. When he could speak he just whispered, "Oh, Lewis, fach," I think he would quite literally have died for Lewis Jones at that point. Well, then, to get back, Taylor's conversion, Muhammad Ali going down to Frazier in New York in the spring, Liverpool, also in defeat at the Cup Final. acknowledging the Arsenal supporters at Wembley at the end of the game, Trevino's final putt in the British Open, if you like, though it's hard to warm to the man, and, of course, the moment on the Upper Sticks pool of the Towy when the 1003 seatrout took my Blue Charm as it was slid past its nose on a floating line one hot afternoon in June. I admit that I was fishing for salmon at the time, and that seatrout have no right to take a fly in low water in midafternoon. But it was a very big seatrout, wasn't it?
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