Afternoon:
9°c
We have a strange attitude to our top sports stars and the amount of money they earn. In a week when it was announced that Simon Cowell earned £45million in the past year from his American television products, the radio talk shows of the nation were not abuzz with people raging and ranting at this immoral and unfair wealth heaped upon a man who in Sting's words this week "has no recognisable talent apart from self-promotion". We just accept that in the world of show-business, the best in the business are rich beyond rich.
You can guarantee, however, that should England capitulate against Brazil in the heat of Doha this weekend, amid all the inevitable grizzling about general skill-levels and formations, the oft-repeated gripe about the weekly pay packets of JT and his team will be tossed into the equation somewhere. There's an inherent and unreasonable jealousy within all disgruntled sports fans that because it must be great fun playing sport for a living, you should automatically be happy to do it for nothing.
Except that in the past week, I've been lucky enough to see two sporting icons from this country, whose brilliance is such that they could justifiably lay claim to Cowell-esque bags of swag and surely no one would have the nerve to ring even the most vacuous phone-in to complain.
Jonny Wilkinson's return to the England rugby side against Australia may not have prompted a famous victory to rival that World Cup Final triumph from six years ago but his command of the match, in both attack and defence, was a joy to behold.
His new club, Toulon, are apparently paying him £750,000 a year. A bargain of Primark proportions.
And so to Wayne Rooney at Stamford Bridge on Sunday. Forget the headlines about him mouthing "12 men" to the camera after the game. He's a pain in the neck when it comes to most refereeing decisions, unable to help himself from getting involved when he was the furthest-most player removed from the incident, and probably didn't see it in the first place.
But watch him play. He was supreme. Total commitment from start to finish, chasing back and harrying, tackling when he needs to, playing majestic cross-field passes, ghosting into goal-scoring positions, a constant threat in the box which forced Terry and the excellent Carvalho to be at their very best. And at a time when diving is almost mandatory for all top-flight forwards, he plays with an integrity lacking in most.
If you are not a Rooney fan, cast off those blinkers, probably based on the club he plays for and the rather irritating name he's given his first child, and just watch another master at work.
To stand in the tube train travelling away from Fulham Broadway on Sunday (and what is genuinely outrageous is how crowded it was and the fact that no extra trains are ever scheduled even when a game is on) and hear Chelsea fans talking in glowing terms about the artist-formerly-known-as-Shrek was to appreciate that in this World Cup season, England have one of the rarest talents on planet football.
Jonny has already won a World Cup. Watching Rooney play last weekend was to realise that the England football team without him is like Saturday and Sunday nights without Cowell, and our hopes of victory in South Africa are almost entirely in his hands. You can't actually put a price on genuine talent like his. Sting would surely agree.
Ugly attitude ruins golf's beauty spot
Portmarnock Golf CLub is rightly regarded as one of the most beautiful courses in Ireland. Log on to the website and the pictures of the pristine fairways beneath cloud-dappled blue skies lure any golfer like a bottle attracts an alcoholic.
Except that this week I jettisoned a lifelong ambition to play there, following the news that, after a legal battle, the Supreme Court in Ireland has upheld the club's men‑only membership ruling.
There remain certain things in sport that just defy any sense of logic and common sense and the backwoodsman attitude of far too many golf clubs is one of them, especially in their approach to women and children.
So now is the time for all of us fair‑minded handicappers to make a stand.
If any of your mates are suggesting a golfing trip to Ireland that includes Portmarnock, say you won't go. No visiting players means a loss of revenue. Then the membership fees increase to make up the shortfall. That might be the only way to force the old codgers to reconsider.
Reasons to be cheerful…
Spending time with the beleaguered England rugby squad this week there weren't many until I bumped into defence coach Mike Ford. Last Sunday, in one of the most remarkable family celebrations that any sport can have enjoyed in a very long time, Mike's eldest son Joe, who is 19, played for Leeds Carnegie against his 16-year-old brother George, who became the youngest player ever to be selected for Leicester Tigers' First XV. As Mike recounted details of the match, his face was wreathed in a grin from one side of the pitch to the other. And every time our eyes met during the rest of the morning, he grinned that grin again. Pure, unbridled pride. If the positive vibes emanating out of Mike Ford have been transferred into the England team for the Argentina game tomorrow, then rest assured, the result is the biggest foregone conclusion of the weekend.
