Drink, Drugs and Sausage Rolls

I was always intrigued by the Ulster Councils initiative “Drink, drugs and sausage rolls,” not just due to its t-shirt slogan name, but mainly as to what it was all about. Turns out the Ulster Council reckons these are the three things that turn good minor players into that lad who sits at the bar and tells you about the time he scored a point against Cavan in a Minor all Ireland in 1995. From a purely cuisine point of view I think this is incredibly harsh on sausage rolls. Surely jambons ruin a man’s arteries quicker than the sausage snack? Alas I digress, the main crux of my problem with the initiative is the exemption of the Minor players greatest deterrent – women. We all know that the late teens are a time in a man’s life when women stop becoming something you look at from afar and become people we could actually strike up a conversation with. Believe it or not being able to put the ball over the bar from the 45 while on the run gets massive kudos with the ladies (I always knew I was doing something wrong!). So why then is the Ulster Council initiative not called “Drink, Drugs and the girl from number 47 who’ll make you miss training to take her to see Sex and the City 2”. All minor players should be advised to only date girls who know their way around a hurl or who, better still have played inter county since they were 15. (Note to readers: There is a line here. I currently date a girl who is better than me at football, it’s very bad for my ego).

Alas with all the talk of unnamed premiership footballers and “LoveRats” a man could be forgiven for thinking that being a successful sports star and having multiple affairs is a bad thing. Am I alone in pining for the return of the playboy sports star? Far from it for me to condone having affairs on one’s partner (I’d like to keep my girlfriend beyond this blog) but it seemed to work out alright for George Best. Sport is quickly becoming characterless. Let’s take F1 as an example. When James Hunt was winning championships he did so with a different girl waiting for him at the finish line of each race. Now robots like Mark Webber celebrate by having an energy drink. It’s not like women have stopped throwing themselves at the players. I have been in the company of many AFL footballers on nights out and they were not short of suitors. We all know the GAA is not exempt of this and if anybody thinks otherwise they should visit Copper Face Jacks. It is written in folklore that in 1997 a Wexford Hurler was asked what he would do if Wexford won back to back All-Irelands. He replied “well for starters, I’d need a new willy”. It’s outrages statements like this that make sport, the theatre it is. 

When Ronnie O’Sullivan shows any signs of being able to think for himself he’s lambasted for being “cocky”. Had George Best sat in with his feet up every night he would have accomplished more in his career but he would not have been as loved as he is. Something inside us is attracted to rogues. That is why they are “lovable”. Ultimately characterless  sports stars will ruin a sport. Michael Schumacher, while being incredibly talented, drove fans away from the sport. See too Stephen Hendry. Kimi Raikkonen was so bored with F1 that he left the sport. I want to see the World Champion on the grid, not doing a rally in Finland. So I appeal to people out there; next time you hear a sportsman swear on TV, see him pictured with a different pop star on his arm each night or watch CCTV of him peeing against a wheelie bin, don’t write a letter of complaint, imagine what you would do if stardom and a large pay packet were thrown your way in your early twenties.

     

As a sports agent we want our players to settle down with nice girlfriends/wives as a settled family life encourages good on field performances. But I can tell you now the commercial opportunities for players who live the life of a playboy are huge. In reality it all boils down to image. The only reason Tiger Woods got stampeded on by a herd of moral high horses was because he portrayed himself as a devoted family man. If Ryan Giggs wasn’t married and it turned out he bedded a Big Brother star he’d be applauded by the red-tops. Don’t pick me up wrong I’m not talking about players living a lifestyle of rock and roll. Their body is, at the end of the day, their work tools. But I’m not alone in wanting a golfer to play like Seve Ballesteros, speed around the table like Alex Higgins or drive with reckless abandon like Aryton Senna. Winning will make you successful but winning with flair will make you loved. Humbly I admit that for every Trevino there is a corresponding Daly, for every Hunt there is an Irvine and for Best there is a Stephen Ireland – stars so blinded by the bright lights they forgot why the lights were on them in the first place. Acting this way is only tolerated while they deliver on the pitch. Ask ex AFL player Brendan Fevola. Living a life of debauchery won’t win you Olympic gold but living the life of a monk will leave you with no legacy.

The era of the “Lovable Rouge” is over. Secularism may very well have overtaken Christianity but it appears morals are now more heavily protected than ever before. Perhaps I look back with rose tinted glasses upon a time when chauvinistic men ruled the world and the playboy sports star hasn’t gone away, simply this behaviour is no longer socially acceptable.  So here is my golden rule to all sports people out there – if you have a wife/girlfriend that you truly love then look after them. If you don’t, then enjoy the spoils of war. Remember you’re one bad tackle away from being unattractive again.

Seamus McDaid is a sports agent who has recently returned from a two year stint with Ricky Nixon’s Flying Start operation in Melbourne.