Pundits have to say goodbye to worrying about what the dressingroom thinks
BOD must realise role of pundit is about entertainment and honesty and a willingness to call it as it is
The family of James Hunt attend the premier of Rush at Odeon Leicester Square, London. Phptpgraph: Anthony Devlin/PA Wire
So Brian O’Driscoll resents Warren Gatland – well, d’uh: player P-O’d at coach for being dropped; whatever next? Child disappointed at not getting lollipop? Hold those presses, baby.
No, the interesting bit from that BOD froth blitz last week was actually an aside reference to the possibility of a post-playing career in punditry for the great man.
How, asked Pat Kenny earnestly, will you be able to criticise those you formerly played alongside; to which BOD replied there are “vays”. Actually it sounded less Kraut and more weirdy-lodge handshake, but you get the drift.
Tim Horan, the ex-Aussie player and now speaking studio suit, has told O’Driscoll that, for instance, if George Gregan throws a shockingly bad pass he doesn’t say “that’s a shockingly bad pass”, he says something like “that’s most uncharacteristic of George Gregan”.
Clever huh? Saying something without actually saying anything. There’s a skill there. Careers in middle-management have been built on it. Hell, top management too.
There’s only one problem with it, Brian. It’s boring. Real boring. Scratch-your-retina-to-shreds boring. Pat Kenny boring. If there’s one thing the world doesn’t need it’s another ex-player filling in retirement time waffling bland clichés.
Barely had the first telly signal gone out but a pundit was uttering some “he’ll be disappointed with himself there” crap. Jimmy Hill was probably still growing into his chin. By now it is so passé new-borns can recognise it. Which is why when the opposite comes along it is instantly recognisable as the real deal, and cherished by the viewing public as evidence we don’t have to survive on a total diet of anodyne cant designed to keep one foot in the dressingroom.
The media in general lives for experts, and the theory of expertise in sport is flawless. If you’re going to spout about something there is an immeasurable credibility advantage if you’ve actually been there and done that. So telly in particular loves to turn to expertise. That’s the theory.
But what BOD seemingly still has to grasp is that the role is about much more than turning up all shiny and nice with a glittering CV, but also about entertainment and honesty, and a willingness to call it as it is. And that means having to say goodbye to worrying about what the dressingroom thinks of you. You have to grow up.
Style and substance
Legend has it James Hunt never grew up. The new film Rush perpetuates the myth of the English playboy driver who slid into Formula One history as breezily as he slid into, well, everything really. It didn’t matter if it came in a glass, a phial or a pair of heels, Hunt was there. The image is wonderfully attractive, and the movie will only embellish it. But there was substance behind the flash too.