Richard MichaelEngland and Rooney four years on; Murray and Dallaglio
A FEW nights ago England beat Croatia in Euro 2004 on ESPN Classic – so much, and yet so little, has changed since then. The personalities are almost identical, the image irreconcilable. There was a freshness, excitement and anticipation surrounding the team. Granted they were in a major tournament but it was a team in its infancy, a team of unforeseeable potential, and a team to show off to the world. In Sven we trust was the mantra; Roonaldo was the chant. With heart stopping energy and guaranteed spontaneity, the raw 18-year-old Wayne Rooney personified the team, and so the faith festered. But it was all in the mind’s eye.
Four years on and it’s a tainted band of capped internationals, dulled by defeat and sullied by failure. What a good player Rooney has become, but the legendry status we assumed a formality is not guaranteed and the succession is precarious. In those early days he traded on physicality, allied to an accomplished skill level, to defy his tender years and enhance his precocious reputation. Now something extra is needed to hit the Messi and Ronaldo heights, and similarly England need something extra. The aura of potential greatness has slipped by. Hope has sprung a leak. Still Capello seems the right man to introduce a steel-capped dose of realism.
DESPITE its obvious appeals, tennis is often a tedious sport to watch but Andy Murray renders it indigestible. My timing must be poor because each time I see his matches one thing strikes me: 11th best in the world, how? But more infuriating than his consistent errors, perplexing shot selection and mental frailties is his ugly and uninterested demeanour. The hunched shoulders, the scuffing trainers, and the muttering grumbles – protestation requires passion – are all so sapping and tiresome. Sports fans are all failed sports stars, and when the privileged few appear apathetic to their fortune, lethargic in the face of opportunity and fail even to raise a smile to their circumstances, it is hard to find the enthusiasm. More unjust criticism for the maligned Murray? Or is our summer sports(recreational) culture too soft?
IT takes a brave man to steal Lawrence Dallaglio’s thunder. But in the retiring international’s own ball-breaking style, young back row colleague’s James Haskell and Tom Rees did just that as Wasps won the Guiness Premiership yesterday. In the first half particularly, the two snarling flankers blitzed Leicester’s lumbering back row as though they had been caged and starved for months. The most complimentary aspect of Dallaglio’s legacy is surely fearsome predatory instincts of his protégés, who guarantee a healthy future for Wasps and England.
Four years on and it’s a tainted band of capped internationals, dulled by defeat and sullied by failure. What a good player Rooney has become, but the legendry status we assumed a formality is not guaranteed and the succession is precarious. In those early days he traded on physicality, allied to an accomplished skill level, to defy his tender years and enhance his precocious reputation. Now something extra is needed to hit the Messi and Ronaldo heights, and similarly England need something extra. The aura of potential greatness has slipped by. Hope has sprung a leak. Still Capello seems the right man to introduce a steel-capped dose of realism.
DESPITE its obvious appeals, tennis is often a tedious sport to watch but Andy Murray renders it indigestible. My timing must be poor because each time I see his matches one thing strikes me: 11th best in the world, how? But more infuriating than his consistent errors, perplexing shot selection and mental frailties is his ugly and uninterested demeanour. The hunched shoulders, the scuffing trainers, and the muttering grumbles – protestation requires passion – are all so sapping and tiresome. Sports fans are all failed sports stars, and when the privileged few appear apathetic to their fortune, lethargic in the face of opportunity and fail even to raise a smile to their circumstances, it is hard to find the enthusiasm. More unjust criticism for the maligned Murray? Or is our summer sports(recreational) culture too soft?
IT takes a brave man to steal Lawrence Dallaglio’s thunder. But in the retiring international’s own ball-breaking style, young back row colleague’s James Haskell and Tom Rees did just that as Wasps won the Guiness Premiership yesterday. In the first half particularly, the two snarling flankers blitzed Leicester’s lumbering back row as though they had been caged and starved for months. The most complimentary aspect of Dallaglio’s legacy is surely fearsome predatory instincts of his protégés, who guarantee a healthy future for Wasps and England.
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