Sporting failures and successes

Press, 2 July 1983, Page 18

Sporting failures and successes

Famous Sporting Fiascos. By Stephen Winkworth. Bodley Head, 1983. 200 pp. $14.95. Summer of the All-Rounder. By Patrick Eagar. Collins, 1983. 128 pp. $16.95. Horton’s Test. By David Petri. Rotabook Publishing, 1983.248 pp. $18.95.

(Reviewed by

R. T. Brittenden)

People have been laughing at the misfortunes of others since the banana skin was invented. A recent television programme was devoted to “bloopers," a euphemistic term covering the inability of actors and actresses to remember or deliver their lines. There are, evidently, many cans of film which record mishaps on screen. Now sport has an anthology of bloopers, in Stephen Winkworth’s diverting work. He apparently has a macabre interest in such things. His earlier books were “Great Commercial Disasters” and “Amazing Times!” His “Famous Sporting Fiascos” are grouped under 12 headings. One, for instance, lists bloopers concerning spectators, - supporters and fans: another is about incidents involvinganimals. If there is a criticism of this work, it is that Mr Winkworth has produced a book of substantial length only by watering down some splendid reports with some which are much less appealing, and do not deserve inclusion. Included in the collection is one of the unkindest headlines put over a sports story. It concerns the Irish rugby wing, Tony O’Reilly, who came back to the game after a spell as an executive for the Heinz Corporation of the United States. O’Reilly did not play as well as expected. The account of the match was headed “Heinz Means Has Beenz.” And on record is the Wolverhampton couple who in 1974 named their two-month-old daughter Maria, followed by the names of 25 heavyweight boxers, starting with Sullivan and ending with Foreman. There is a lovely tale about a world championship table tennis event being

postponed because of rain. “The setting was Calcutta, 1975, in a newly-built stadium at the Eden Gardens cricket ground” the item reads. “Security before the event had been less than stringent, and thieves had stolen all the toilets, the plumbing, and the lead from the roof. Then there was a torrential downpour, and most of it came through the leadless ceiling. Eventually the rain let up, and it was decided to go ahead with the first round, but when the opening ceremony finally got under way the band was missing. The over-zealous thieves had stolen their tickets and they had been refused admission.” Lord Freyberg’s attempt to swim the English Channel after the First World War is recalled. Freyberg, the author says, was fond of telling the story against himself. He was only 300 yards from the shore of France, but, very weak because of rough seas, could swim no further. His wife, in the support boat, uncorked a flask of brandy and persuaded him to swallow some. He felt very much better, but the intake also resulted in the complete loss of his navigational faculties. He went round and round in everdecreasing circles until persuaded to desist. He was dragged from the water “as weak as a kitten and as drunk as a Lord.” Also remembered is Alan Pascoe’s win in the 400 m hurdles at the Commonwealth Games in Christchurch in 1974, and his subsequent lap of honour, which had him crashing into hurdles in a most spectacular fashion. “Famous Sporting Fiascos,” with some amusing illustrations by Jacques, is the sort of book one can pick up from time to time, when there is an idle moment or two. Patrick Eagar is at the top of the tree among cricket photographers. “The Summer of the All-Rounder,” dealing with the 1982 season in England, follows “A Summer to Remember,” published a year earlier. The all-rounders to whom Eagar pays particular attention are Kapil Dev (India), Imran Khan (Pakistan) and lan Botham (England). India and Pakistan toured England last year.

Eagar is a brilliant photographer, and there are some remarkable pictures of these three players — and many others — to study. The commentary is again expertly provided by Alan Ross. Cricket fiction has appeared from time to time, not always successfully. The great Jack Hobbs had his name on “The Test Match Surprise,” published about half a century ago; there was a first-class novel called “Pro” many years ago; Bernard Newman had cricket in a series of murder stories with sports backgrounds. In the cricket one, if memory serves, a batsman is killed by the release of poison gas from one of the stumps, the fata] capsule having been covered with wax, which melted when the wicket-keeper used heaters which had been fitted in his gloves. Rod Marsh has not thought of that one. Conan Doyle wrote a notable short story about cricket; Huge de Selincourt’s “Village Cricket Match” is a classic; A. D. Mac Donnell in “England, Their England” gave the game its funniest, some of its best, Dickens used cricket

effectively. David Petri’s contribution to the literature of the summer game is not immense. The story line is as ludicrous as that devised by Newman. A portly Englishman, aged 53, is on holiday in the south of France. He chances upon a fairground entertainer who is able to spin a ball backwards, or sideways. The Englishman discovers that the Italian has had a wrist operation which has made him double-jointed. Our hero has a similar operation, and bowls for England against Australia. Guess who wins. Apparently Mr Petri has an interest in the publishing company, which explains in part why this work ever appeared. It brings with it a book marker in the form of a cricket bat, a “super spine” cover which can be fitted to the paperback, to make it look, on the shelf, like an expensive hardback. There is also an entry form for a questionnaire on the book’s contents, a contest which will send the winner on a holiday to Barbados. Even these attractions are unlikely to raise “Horton’s Test” from the bottom rung of cricket writing.