An unlikely topic

A few weeks back Mia Freedman inadvertently created a furore when she expressed reservations about Cadel Evans being declared a hero for winning the Tour de France. It got me thinking. Not because I think what she said was hugely contentious. I don't. I think she made a valid point – that we elevate sporting prowess above other valuable pursuits. But her comments made me think she underestimated the power of sport. And that, my lovely readers, is the strangest, most-unlikely, sentence I've ever typed.

For most of my life I cared very little for sport. I thought about it purely in the context of a physical ability, that, for the most part, eluded me. Being able to run fast or kick a ball accurately or swim well. I had as little understanding of the human element beneath it all, as I had aptitude for the basic skills. I had no appreciation of the dedication, the strength, the focus, the resilience or the will that sporting success necessitates and triggers far beyond any physical proficiency or talent. I didn't realise how motivating or powerful or inspiring sport can be.

It's tricky because in the larger scheme of life, I know sport doesn't save lives. But even writing that sentence I'm fighting a part of myself that thinks in some ways it does. At least, it's capable of adding an enormously enriching, life-affirming component to daily existence. It promotes physical activity, it encourages self-belief, it inspires, it bonds, it pushes people, it unites people, it enthuses people. All terribly clichéd, but also, terribly true.

Mr G will hate me saying this, but even objectively speaking, he's accomplished at sport. It's been a huge component of his life, for all his life and because of that I've had cause - and plenty of time - to consider it from right up close. I now watch with fascination because I see the human part. I love that the person out there – on the bike, or in the pool, or on the tennis court – is a person just like me, but with an ability and a drive to push themselves to achieve something physical.

Will self-doubt topple them or will belief propel them when the whistle blows? Are they distracted or focused? Will nerves deter or inspire? Are they performing at the peak because they're fit or because they're focused? It's nail-biting stuff when you get yourself a bit invested. And it's visible. Played out on an open stage for all to see. I think part of my own fascination springs from the fact it's so far removed from own abilities that I can't look away.

Even still, last year if you had asked me to rank the most exciting moments of my life, I would have laughed if you suggested I would count a sporting victory among them. But I do. Up there with my most treasured memories, filed firmly under 'will never fade', is a sporting victory. A win that represented so much more than the sum of its parts.

It was an historic sporting fixture. It wasn't a World Cup or the Olympics or a Test match but it's a game that's been played for 129 years and is the only amateur fixture in the world to draw television crowds into the millions. And, last year, Mr G had the chance to take part.

On the day itself, I was so nervous I couldn't eat. And I was only a spectator. I had watched these young men, most considerably younger than Mr G, commit themselves, physically and emotionally, week after week, month after month, in the hope of being selected to play in this one uniquely significant match. The chance to take part was itself an honour and an ambition realised. Knowing they had a little over an hour to contest the one title they did it all for, left my heart in my throat.
Watching them run on and resist the temptation to let their nerves and insecurities become self-defeating, left me white. While my fears totally overwhelmed me, they totally overwhelmed their fears. They weren't the favourites to win but they did. In tremendous style.

That moment of victory will stay with them forever. They will each continue in life knowing they achieved a dream. They know that if they put their mind and body to it, that if they dedicate time and energy to a task, they can make things happen and they will be rewarded. Because they did exactly that. And, in the process, they inspired others to believe the same.

And that's why I'm reluctant to underestimate the power of sport. Those young men who left me speechless and euphoric last year are like the vast majority of the world's population who take part in sport. They are not paid to do so. They do it because they love it and because they're motivated.

Throwing a ball might not be heroic but what it might teach, encourage and arouse along the way, really is.