The following is an extract from a BBC News webpage on the 10th of September 1998.
“Northern Ireland’s First Minister David Trimble and Sinn Fein President Gerry Adams are meeting for official face-to-face talks for the first time. The private meeting at Stormont is said to be an important step in the Northern Ireland peace process…but the two men were not expected to shake hands after Mr. Trimble said Mr. Adams was still holding arms.”
That meeting was held at a very important point of time in Anglo-Irish history. Failure to make political progress could potentially have put hundreds of lives at risk. Ultimately, that first meeting (despite the no handshake) led to an understanding between Sinn Féin and the Unionist parties. It led to the situation where Sinn Féin’s Martin McGuinness and Ian Paisley were seen so often together in public that they acquired the nickname of a popular comic duo, the “Chuckle Brothers”.
When the Adams Trimble handshake finally took place it cemented peace in the Northern Ireland. There are people alive today, who may not otherwise be, but for that handshake. Yet it never received the worldwide coverage and hysteria of the non-handshake of Luis Suarez and Patrice Evra before the Manchester United v Liverpool game last Saturday.
There is something very strange when two individuals, whose main claim to fame is that they can hurl insults at each other, receive more attention than important historical moments.
Last Saturday was in many ways the ultimate day of non-stories in sport. There was the non-handshake in Manchester, the non-fixture between France and Ireland in Paris and the non-second half in the national football league fixture between Dublin and Mayo in Castlebar. These three events have generated a profusion of unnecessary comment in the papers and on the radio. It can best be summed up on one word. NONSENSE.
It seems as if the coverage of sport, especially professional sport, has reached saturation point. There are so many mediums of communication vying for the fans’ attention and any sports follower can be engaged ad infinitum on the minute of every game or contest. Ultimately, only the addicts are interested in this level detail. So to keep the vast majority of casual followers interested, the TV companies and the newspapers focus on stories of no consequence to the outcome of the games.
Did Suarez’s refusal to shake Evra’s hand effect the outcome of the game on Saturday?
No.
Did the postponement of the game in Paris deprive Ireland of their best chance of defeating France?
No.
Did the people who travelled to Paris (or Mayo) and did not get to see a game, have totally miserable weekend because of this?
Somehow I fancy they made the best of their misfortune and got on with it.
So the controversies that have been raised have more to do with the need to fill airtime and to keep sport, as an entertainment, in the forefront of discussion.
The term professional sport is an oxymoron. When money becomes involved, sport goes out the window. Professional sport is just another part of the entertainment industry.
This point was reinforced on me recently, when I read the book “A Life Too Short” by Ronald Reng. A Life Too Short won the William Hill Sports Book of the Year for 2011. It is the tragic story of Robert Enke, the German international soccer goalkeeper.
Robert Enke played professional football for nearly 14 seasons. On the 10th of November 2009 he stepped in front of the 6.15pm express train from Bremen and ended his life. He was 32 years old. He suffered from depression.
The tragedy of Robert Enke is not that he suffered from a depressive illness. It is that his wife Terese, his agent Jorg, and his family, good friends (including the author) and neighbours were rendered almost powerless to help him because he earned his living as goalkeeper for Hannover 96, and was also in contention to be Germany’s number one goalkeeper at the 2010 World Cup finals.
How does the man who acts as the last line of defence for his country admit to illness that deprives him of the ability to decide whether or not to have a cup of coffee? He can’t. In the last few month of his life, Robert Enke was constantly hounded by his depression. His “black dog”.
The support structure of family and friends was strained to cope. Six years earlier they had helped him come through his first encounter with the “black dog”. Because he was a lesser-known player and the pressures were less, they managed to keep his sickness a secret.
Professional sport is a results orientated business. There is no room for being human. You win, or you lose. You are perfect, or you are damaged goods. Professional sport cannot cater for mental weakness or human frailty. The second tragedy of the A Life Too Short is that Robert Enke’s family support structure failed to grasp that Robert could not have it all. The very thing they wanted for him most, to be Germany’s number one, was what led to his death.
There are many more players like Robert Enke playing professional sport around the world. It is only when the occasional story emerges, like that or Robert Enke, or the late Justin Fashanu (soccer) or the boxer Frank Bruno (who has made a remarkable recovery after the newspapers called him “bonkers”) that people are reminded that professional sportsmen have everyday problems too.
The story of Tommy Smith, the great Liverpool player of the 1960s and ‘70s that emerged this weekend, is another example of how sport has become a business. Smith is 66 years of age and one of the most decorated players of the Bill Shankly era at Liverpool. He will shortly be putting his collection of medals and jerseys up for sale in the hope that they will raise £120,000 and secure his future.
Tommy Smith played 638 games for Liverpool between 1960 and 1978. He won four league titles, two FA Cups, two UEFA Cups and the European Cup. “It’s [selling his trophies] something I’ve been thinking about for a long time,” he told the Liverpool Echo.
Tommy Smith was well paid relative to the average industrial wage of the 1960s. But his wages as a footballer were never going to see him through the rest of his life. Hence he is now selling his booty. The difference between a good wage in the 60s and the way professional soccer has developed is the fact that the money he hopes to earn from the sale is less than a week’s wages for some of the current players at Liverpool.
This is what professional sport has become. A feeding frenzy (fueled by fans who have been sucked in to believing they are part of action) where talent and loyalty are secondary to the smash and grab at the till. The casualties are often the dedicated players who have shown loyalty to their clubs, or who are not mentally hardened enough to withstand the pillage.
The need to keep sport constantly in our faces is why we are force-fed the diatribe of whether or not Evra and Suarez should have shaken hands. If Gerry Adams and David Trimble could, then these two can. The more important question for those who enjoy the games and sport for its own sake is could Luis Suarez ever honestly shake the hand of Tommy Smith?