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Thursday, June 24, 2010
Why this sporting life is oh so great BY TP O’MAHONY
WHO was the greatest? The names come tumbling fast – Ring, Ali, Bradman, Fangio, Pele, Laver, Nicklaus, Piggott, O’Connell, Navratilova, Purcell and Kyle.
Take your pick, nominate your sporting heroes and watch the arguments begin.
With the soccer World Cup already underway in South Africa, and the tennis championships at Wimbledon also starting, there will be plenty of opportunities for comparisons and arguments, always in the right spirit of course.
When it comes to soccer few things are decisively settled. Was Pele really the greatest? What about Maradona? Or Zidane? Or George Best?
I once heard a story about Best, a story I liked. A close friend of his was asked – in the presence of the Manchester United star – who was the greatest ever. "Pele," replied the friend, without hesitation.
Best was quiet for a while, and in the car on the way home later he turned to his friend. "Tell me this," he said, "if I had played for Brazil and Pele had played for Northern Ireland, would you have given the same answer?"
One thing that is settled – probably – is that the Brazil team that beat Italy in the 1970 World Cup final was the greatest side ever. How many of the eleven can you name? Pele of course, but what of the others? Here they are: Felix, Brito, Wilson Piazza, Carlos Alberto, Clodoaldo, Jairzinho, Gerson, Tostao, Rivelino and Everaldo. Some team.
Elsewhere we are left to wonder. Would Joe Louis or Rocky Marciano in their prime have beaten Ali in his? Was Ben Hogan better than Nicklaus, or will Tiger Woods in time come to be regarded as the greatest golfer ever?
Not that long ago few would have doubted that Woods would surpass Nicklaus’s record of 18 major titles. Then his life became mired in sexual controversy.
Although his marriage seems irretrievably broken as a result of his off-course sexual antics, he’s back playing golf. Form-wise, his performances have been very mixed. Yet even now who would bet that he won’t overhaul the Golden Bear?
In hurling the maestro from Cloyne is peerless, though in gaelic football there is less certainty. Mick O’Connell has his champions, though so has Galway’s Seán Purcell.
Ever since my schooldays I’ve been a fan of motor racing, especially Formula One. And my hero has always been Juan Manuel Fangio. He retired in 1958 at the age of 46, having won five world championships.
Michael Schumacher has of course since surpassed that, but Fangio belonged to a more heroic era, when the racing cars – like the lovely Maserati 250F – still looked like cars.
Fangio died in July 1995, in his native Argentina, at the age of 84. The following day the headline over the full-page obituary in the Guardian said: "Best and bravest racer of them all".
And it noted the following: "Decades after their prime, the immortals can still change the mood of a room simple by their presence: Bradman, Pele, Ali. In motor racing it was Juan Manuel Fangio".
It is arguable that but for the awful crash that took his life in May 1994, Ayrton Senna – rather than Schumacher – would be widely regarded, and indeed still is in some quarters, as the second greatest driver of all time.
Although we know it’s a pointless exercise, we can’t resist the temptation to compare sportsmen from one era with those of another. The arguments can never be conclusively settled. We know that full well, but they’re great fun anyway.
Perhaps another great Formula One driver, Jackie Stewart, got it right: "You can only be the best of your time".
