2 1/2 sporting documentaries
Whilst grateful to Neil Rosen for his in-flight recommendation of Lost in Translation I was drawn to that section of movies on the plane titled “sports documentaries” and watched two and a half of those.
The first was The Edge – the story behind the Revival of England cricket in 2007 under Andy Flower and Andrew Strauss.
It was a “ fly on the wall ”documentary and our readers will know of the Rust’s cynicism of such efforts. The fact is that people with the camera on them behave differently than in its absence. The idea is their guard will drop and some fatal indiscretion made.
Those featured especially Graeme Swann, apparently England’s greatest ever spin bowler (Jim Laker ?), who referred to the good times they all had.
This took me back to the lift in the Trident Hotel Mumbai in 2016 where the England team and I were staying. On the final day England were bowled out ignominiously. The players’ partners in the lift were so looking forward to their time with their other halves by the pool.
This induced one lady tourist in the lift to open up with both barrels that it was no holiday bur an embarrassing defeat which many like here had paid a lot of money to witness.
Only yesterday Sonny Bill Willliams stressed his lucrative Toronto rugby league signing was “no holiday” and a few years ago Geoff Boycott put on his immigration declaration on a tour : “reason for travel -business.”
Although this England team went on a boot camp in Bavaria and did revive, this “have-a-good -time-culture “ was readily apparent from the documentary as was the lack of any critique from journalists and commentators.
Next up I Believe in Miracles. The story of Nottingham Forest winning the League, League Cup and European Cup under Brian Clough was more illuminating.
One tends to judge Clough by his latter days of boozing and apparently liking a bung. He came to Forest after the debacle at Leeds.
The documentary begins with that famous interview by Austin Mitchell where Brian Clough wiped the floor with Don Revie.
I was struck by how fit Clough looked and how witty he was in the documentary. So much so that Muhammad Ali considered him a rival and when, with his trademark humour Ali poked fun at Clough, the latter laughed generously.
His Forest side played wonderful football with the ball swept out to pudgy left winger John Robertson the fulcrum, Kenny Burns converted from a hard man forward to a clever defender, Frank Clark told not to train but rest.
It was in many ways a team of journeymen typified by John McGovern who beat Liverpool and dominated Europe.
No person has won a league with two clubs like Derby and Forest and that must the final testimonial on a remarkable manager if flawed human being.
The final documentary which I was unable to see through to its end featured Muhammad Ali who must surely be the greatest sporting personality ever.
How privileged we were to see his footwork, ring guile and wit. It featured the the earlier Cassius Clay and I watched carefully but could see no fierce blow struck when Sonny Liston went down in the first round in Lewiston, Maine.
Like Clough, his wit could be cruel – and not just his wit – when he tormented Ernie Terrell for 15 rounds taunting him with “What ‘s my name ?”
We tend to overlook the early Cassius Clay years and concentrate on those immortal fights with Joe Frazier and George Foreman after his comeback and his broken jaw at the hands of Ken Norton, but he won a Olympic Gold in 1960 and was well managed by a consortium of Kentuckian businessmen and Angelo Dundee.
I was enthralled and rather wished the plane’s landing would be delayed by air traffic control.
