Compiled by JOHN O'SULLIVAN
Santorum and Romney in turkey shoot
APOLOGIES but a story containing the words Rick Santorum and turkey is just too good to pass up. Santorum, who is
battling with Mitt Romney for the Republican nomination for the US presidential election, has been hitting the bowling lanes with some success and has issued a challenge to his rival. A turkey is the name given to three strikes in succession, something Santorum (left) achieved in Sheboygan, Wisconsin, during the week. His campaign released a schedule with more bowling planned in the coming days. On Wednesday, Santorum challenged Romney to a "bowl-off" ahead of the Wisconsin primary. It's probably the only occasion when they'd happily have their names and the word turkey in the same sentence.
Jocky Wilson's golden oche moments mask sad struggle
FOR THOSE of a certain vintage, age-wise, and with a cursory interest in the sport of darts the name Jocky Wilson will be familiar, so too the image of a squat, toothless Scot with the beaming smile and the D-shaped stomach.
He was a character drawn from the days when players consumed a gallon or two of beer during the course of a match, chain-smoking and peering through the fug.
He came from a time when there was only one World Darts Championship (BDO) and it was broadcast by the BBC.
Auntie brought a pub pastime into the homes of millions of viewers, celebrating the achievements of the Crafty Cockney (Eric Bristow), Old Stoneface (John Lowe), Bobby Dazzler (Bobby George), (The Limestone Cowboy) Bob Anderson and (Big Cliff) Cliff Lazarenko to name but a few.
John Thomas (Jocky) Wilson was a huge audience favourite but his sporting life masked a pretty grim existence that both pre-dated and post-dated his time at the oche. He died last weekend, aged 62, in a one-bedroom council flat in his home town of Kircaldy where he lived with his Argentinian-born wife Malvina.
Plagued by depression, diabetes and a chronic pulmonary condition, he lived as a recluse virtually from the time he made his last appearance at an oche, two days before Christmas in 1995.
During the intervening 17 years his life was played out between a bedroom and a large armchair in the sitting-room.
He had a tough start in life as explained by the legendary commentator Sid Waddell who had coined the phrase “It’s Jocky on the oche”.
“His [Wilson’s] parents were judged unfit to look after him and he spent years in an orphanage. Trips back home ended in chaos. Even when he was in the army, from 1966 to 1968, Jocky gave the orphanage as his address. He trained as a chef and worked as a miner at Seafield colliery, where he met Malvina, who was born in Argentina. They married in 1969 and in the next three years had three children, John, Willie and Anne-Marie.”
He would go on to win a plethora of titles in darts including two world championships, beating Lowe (1982) and Bristow (1989).
Controversy was a regular bedfellow.
He was suspended for punching an official, denying him an opportunity to defend a title he’d won the previous year, and famously fell off the stage drunk at the 1984 World Championships when losing 5-4 to Dave Whitcombe.
His fondness for sweets and an affirmation from his grandmother that “the English poisoned the water”, meant that he never brushed his teeth and had lost them all by the age of 28.
On winning his first sizeable cheque of £6,000 he spent £1,200 on a set of dentures but quickly tired of using them as he felt that they made him belch when drinking.
On one such windy occasion his dentures flew out of his mouth when celebrating a win and ended up on the oche.
Playing pool with Bristow, Wilson was known to take out his dentures to mark the spot where the cue ball rested, whenever the white required cleaning.
He maintained in his autobiography, Jocky Wilson’s Own Story, that having no teeth didn’t prevent him from enjoying his food, including steak and apples, and that there were only two things that ultimately defeated him, Great Yarmouth rock and nuts.
In one of the lighter moments during his period of fame his picture ended up on Top of the Pops in the background as Dexy’s Midnight Runners performed a hit song Jackie Wilson Said.
His life, though, was a constant battle of one sort or another. His first manager Ron Clover won a court order that Wilson had to pay him £80,000 and in his later career the Scot would have to pay a £27,000 tax bill.
He eventually ended up living on a disability pension.
Despite his impoverished circumstances and mental illness “Gumsy” maintained that he alone was responsible for the way in which his life panned out.
Others will hopefully recall him in a more sympathetic light.
Stynes' Reach will live long
IN TRAWLING through the video and picture montages, the heartfelt, moving tributes in the print media and on message boards and the eulogies at his state funeral in Victoria, it was easy to marvel at the remarkable impact Jim Stynes (45) had in an all-too-brief life before eventually succumbing to cancer following a courageous two-and-a-half year battle.
The fact he fought the disease as robustly and without self-pity merely underlines the character of the man. After all he was used to defying the odds, exemplified in his journey from Dublin footballer to Aussie Rules icon with the Melbourne Demons and winner of the Brownlow medal (the most prestigious award for the “fairest and best” in the AFL) in 1991.
His contribution transcended football. A co-founder of the Reach Foundation, which worked with disadvantaged and troubled young adults and teenagers, he looked to create a supportive environment where they could share their issues with others who faced similar problems.
The Australian Prime Minister Julia Gillard this week announced a Aus$3 million (€2.3 million) bursary to fund the Jim Stynes Achievement Scholarships to be run by Reach and the AFL, which will contribute Aus$150,000 (€117,012) a year. There will be 37 (Melbourne Demons jersey number) scholarships a year for vulnerable or disadvantaged young people to pursue education, community work or sport.
His state funeral in St Paul’s Cathedral attracted 1,200 mourners and another 3,500 outside who watched on big screens and was widely covered by the Australian media.
But undoubtedly the most moving tributes were delivered by his close friend and former team-mate, a Melbourne and AFL legend Garry Lyon, first on the AFL Footy Show and then in a eulogy in St Paul’s. Both are worth watching for those who want to delve deep into Stynes, the footballer and the man. Lyon, who admitted to being a caricature of the typical Australian at one point in his life, eloquently laid bare his soul.
If a man’s wealth can be gleaned from the calibre of friends he keeps then Stynes was as rich as Croesus. Today, before the Demons game against the Brisbane Lions, the crowd will offer a minute’s applause, aping the gesture made at last weekend’s match between Dublin and Donegal at Croke Park.
Recalling the contentious ELVs
THREE YEARS ago to the day, March 31st, 2009, the contentious Experimental Law Variations (ELVs) that allowed a maul to be pulled down and unlimited numbers at the lineout were scrapped by the International Rugby Board.
The two were trialled in various competitions for a year, along with sanctions that reduced many penalty offences to free-kicks; these were thrown out by the IRB following a detailed review.
Senior stakeholders from the international rugby community, including top coaches, referees and administrators, debated the results of the trial at a two-day conference in London and as a result 10 ELVs were recommended to be passed into full law. They included a five-metre offside line at the scrum and the pass-back rule, which prevents players from making ground with a direct kick to touch if the ball has been played into their own 22. Others included being able to take a quick throw-in straight or backwards; the corner flag was deemed part of the field of play; and a try would no longer be disallowed if a player touched it in dotting down. Anyone who watched the refereeing travails in the Six Nations would probably wish for another review, albeit with a different subject matter.
Sophie's choice is to have her voice heard
FEW PEOPLE embrace the notion of public speaking devoid of nerves. So imagine what it would be like for someone with a stutter. Swedish golfer Sophie Gustafson, who suffers from the speech impairment, recently sat down to videotape a 6½-minute dissertation that would serve as an acceptance speech at the Golf Writers Association of America (GWAA) awards next week. Alone at her home in Florida it took her eight hours. She is one of the recipients of the GWAA Ben Hogan Award, given to golfers dealing with a physical handicap or severe illness. In a 21-year career, encompassing 26 victories, which includes four Irish Opens, the 38-year-old never had a public voice until last autumn, when she did a 3½-minute taped interview for the Golf Channel, reading from cards, during the Solheim Cup at Killeen Castle. She admitted in her early career it probably cost her victories as she was terrified of having to speak to spectators and sponsors but perhaps even sadder in some respects, is her suggestion her stutter was a contributory factor in pushing her away from having a family.
On the day of her videotaping for the GWAA she tweeted: “I can tell u being a stutterer and a perfectionist doesn’t mix at all!!” She laughs that her general impatience probably contributes a little to the stammer before reflecting. “Stuttering doesn’t really get much press because we don’t speak up . . . I do believe that needs to change, and if I can be a small part of that, that would be pretty cool.”
Sophie’s choice from now on is to ensure speaking up can no longer be regarded as out of bounds.
