One in the Eye

Forget about the medals, awards, honours and commercial endorsements. It may in some unfortunate circumstances be necessary to sell, pawn or donate all of the gold, silver, bronze and cut-glass if for example the athlete encounters hard times, financially or in terms of a decline in previously robust and durable health.

Yes, they are important but perhaps the greatest accolade that a sportsman or woman aspires to is have a street, a building, a stadium or something with a physical presence named after them. It is usually the case that the naming of the thing is in the birth town, home town or a location with a strong mutual identity. There may be family members or distant relatives still residing there and travelling through a street, avenue, square or driving over a bridge, past a civic centre, sports hall or medical centre bearing the same name must be a matter of pride.

There have been some situations where the name has had to be unceremoniously revoked.

This may follow allegations, proven or not ,of cheating such as in the taking of performance enhancing drugs or post-sporting career scandal and illegalities. Perhaps a bit of a slap in the face is where the naming rights are just sold off to the highest bidder. The general populus and in particular members of a City or Town Authority or Council can be fickle but using the argument of supplementing the public purse or reflecting outrage or opinion by auctioning off the naming rights to the highest bidder is a strong one.

A prominent example of this was the removal of Arnold Schwarzenneger's name from the football stadium in his home town of Graz, Austria. This was a decision by the town's Officials in an ongoing row over the death penalty in the USA, illegal in Austria, where Arnie attained the position of Governor of California.

 It was quite a high profile falling out and many believe that because of what has been said that Arnie will definitely not be back some time soon.

One of my all time sporting heroes has a pleasant urban square named after him in Carrick on Suir in the Republic of Ireland or Eire.

Sean Kelly dominated the Professional Cycle Racing scene in Europe in the 1980's with wins in the great Classics as well as performing to a remarkable consistency to win a succession of Green Jerseys in the Tour de France.

From a farming background Sean Kelly was quiet and reserved and he seemed destined to carry on working on the land until he discovered a natural affinity and athletic ability on the bike. He was Irish National Junior Champion at age 16 and took a senior Licence with further prominent wins before moving to live and race in Northern France in 1976.

To sum up Kelly's ethos and spirit a reporter wrote

"It is customary to talk of Kelly as quintessentially an Irish rider. For my part, though, I think it helps to place Kelly better as a cyclist to see him as the last of the Flemish riders.It stands for a certain type of mentality, willing to suffer, narrowly focussed, and hard, hard, hard. Kelly had all this in him from his Irish small-farm background: the outside loo;the dogs that have to be chained before you can step from your car; the one career possible, as a bricklayer on a construction site, stretching away and away into the grey mists. On the positive side, along with the self-reliance, came a physical strength that even by peasant standards is impressive. In a profession of iron wills, there is no one harder".

 For all of that implied coldness and selfish determination I did like Kelly.

He had a presence on the bike and could excel on the flat as well as dragging his body up the punishing mountains. In post race interviews as winner or, failing that, a main  protagonist in the frantic action over the previous three to six hours his expressed feelings of being intellectually outclassed showed in a slow, hesitant speech, almost stuttering and struggling for words.

This did not prevent him, in retirement and to the present day from commentating on big races for commercial broadcasters. Granted, there are some long awkward silences and some barely audible and recognisable words and sentiments but it is all part of the package for one of the greatest road cyclists of all time.

I did have the privilege of slapping him on his back as he edged his bike  through the crowds at the Wincanton Classic in Newcastle in 1989.

I think he came 2nd or 3rd behind the winner Frans Massen. I vowed, silently in my head, to leave that hand unwashed forever as an act of honouring Sean Kelly. That promise did not last beyond the end of the day.

I did think, however of a more befitting tribute to this sporting hero and my first ever house purchase came to bear a rustic carved plaque with the naming rights of "Kelly Cottage".

The sign came along on subsequent house moves ending up on the garden shed at our last house and now it lies on the shelving in the garage amongst a collection of bits of bike, but nevertheless a place of honour and reverence.