OLIVER
BROWN
CHIEF SPORTS
FEATURE WRITER
Batsman’s defiance at
Headingley sparked an
outbreak of happiness
to bind a bruised nation
W
ithin this
country’s
fractured,
poisoned
body politic,
it feels as if
sport is the only healthy
connective tissue that remains. If
the long August weekend just gone
seemed somehow more precious
than ever, a sun-blushed pause
before a bleakly uncertain autumn,
it was not because of English
weather more akin to Havana than
Headingley, or even because Ben
Stokes, fortified by an overnight
meal of knocked-off Nando’s and
two Yorkie bars, was swatting a
glorious unbeaten century to level
the Ashes.
It was because in that sterling
act of defiance, people could find, if
only for one day, both common
cause and a pure, untainted joy.
Sport, increasingly, is alone in
exerting this effect. Once, we
might have pretended that royal
weddings were equivalent
moments of communal catharsis,
but even the Duke and Duchess of
Sussex’s nuptials created an
awkward schism between those
camping out at Windsor in mock
tiaras and those who would far
rather have watched Football
Focus.
Great sporting occasions create
few such lines of rupture. After
Stokes’s thunderous knock, editors
had not a second’s hesitation in
trumpeting him on the front pages
or at the top of the evening news.
Weighty matters of state were on
the table at the G7 summit in
Biarritz, but frankly, President
Trump’s alleged remarks about
nuking hurricanes could wait
another day – especially when Jack
Leach, resplendent on one not out,
had just played his way to free
glasses for life at Specsavers.
As for Stokes, the adulation
knows no limit. He will be voted
BBC Sports Personality of the Year,
naturally. Beyond that, take your
pick: knighthood, peerage,
beatification? At times like these, it
might be almost impertinent to
recall how, a little over a year ago,
he was on trial for affray after a
brawl outside a Bristol nightclub.
He was acquitted but still fined
£30,000 by the England and Wales
Cricket Board for bringing the
game into disrepute. Ever since,
though, Stokes has brought his
game back to the zenith of the IanBotham years, and possibly
beyond. With glory comes total
exculpation: such is the strange
rhythm of sport.
“Stokes for prime minister” is a
notion that has gained much
traction. It matters little that he has
shown not the slightest leaning
towards politics, or that some
aggrieved Australians are still
trying to have England’s
Christchurch-born saviour
formally recognised as a New
Zealander. All that counts, in this
period of division and bitterness
and charlatanry, is the image of
Stokes lashing his final four, raising
his fist even before the patrons on
the Western Terrace realised that
the match was won. He had
triggered an outbreak of happiness
to bind a bruised nation. For that,
he deserves profound gratitude.
The mood cannot last forever, of
course. Sunday evening’s release
gives way to the realisation that
Australia can still retain the Ashes
at Old Trafford next week, and thatthere is not another bank holiday
until Christmas Day. But the
memory is indelible. Young fans
who were there, having been
solemnly told by their parents that
nothing in cricket could surpass
Botham’s deeds at Headingley in
1981, can happily point to Stokes’s
turn 38 years later as their rebuke.
It was a day with a resonance
extending far beyond Leeds, too.
More than 2.1 million watched
England’s triumph on Sky Sports,
with Test Match Special drawing
almost 1.3 million listeners online.^I was among them, negotiating
shaky internet reception in the
Loire Valley to hear England’s
72-run deficit erased, once the
ninth wicket fell, in little over an
hour. The old description by Robert
Hudson, TMS’s creator, of his
programme as a source of company
had seldom appeared so apt. For
the truly extraordinary days in
sport, when wonderful athletes are
conveyed by broadcasters to match,
reach you wherever you are.
The unifying power of sport is a
well-worn concept, earnestly
invoked by everybody from Nelson
Mandela to Barack Obama. But for
one febrile afternoon in Yorkshire,
it assumed palpable meaning.
Stokes’s innings was an effort
worthy of the widest salute, from
aficionados to agnostics. Other
sporting days draw far larger
global audiences: World Cup finals,
for example. But some of those are
forgettable and, in any case, they
are over within 24 hours. The
four-day span of the third Test, by
contrast, contained multitudes: a
historic collapse, a near-certain
defeat, a staggering crescendo.
Only cricket, in its longest form,
can do this, bringing its followers
together through the most extreme
lurches of emotion.
There is a phenomenon in retail
known as the lipstick effect. In a
recession, or so the theory goes,
sales of lipstick soar, with make-up
one of the few extravagances that
can allow consumers to feel good
about themselves without breaking
the bank. In the fearful, feuding
Britain of 2019, cricket is assuming
a similar role, as the one reliable
avenue of escape. Politics might be
toxic, and the economic outlook
might be precarious, but Stokes is
still in full cry.
Sport at its grandest is one
spectacle that transcends spiteful
argument. A game of bat and ball
might look superfluous, set against
all the upheaval potentially to
come, but in the end it is about the
one thing keeping us from falling
apart.In full cry: Fans cheer a boundary
during England’s charge to victoryOnly sport gives us these
shared experiences of joy
Only Test cricket
brings its followers
together through
the most extreme
lurches of emotion
Racing
Frankie Dettori
‘Magnificent Seven’ at Ascot 1996
It is difficult in a sport such as
horse racing to separate the horse
from the rider, and a lazy horse
pushed a long way can make a
jockey look Herculean, but
Dettori’s “Magnificent Seven”
(right), on Sept 28 1996, gets round
that because it involved winning
on all seven horses in one
afternoon – a feat never achieved
before or since. It was not ordinary
racing either, it was high class and
it remains a benchmark for human
performance by a jockey. That day,
for once, the horses played the
no-less-vital but nevertheless
supporting role of a Jack Leach.
Marcus ArmytageRugby union
Christophe Lamaison
New Zealand 31-43 France
1999 Rugby World Cup
semi-finalThe greatest comeback? Tick.
The greatest upset? Tick. The
greatest World Cup match? Tick.
And at the heart of it all was
French fly-half Lamaison (right)with a performance so good it had
Twickenham singing Allez les
Bleus. Given no hope beforehand,
France were trailing 24-10 early in
the second half. Lamaison, who
had scored a try and a penalty in
the first half, reduced the deficit
to two points with a pair of
dropped goals and two penalties.
He then orchestrated tries for
Christophe Dominici, RichardDourthe and Philippe Bernat-
Salles to leave Twickenham
delirious with French fever.
Though France lost the final
against Australia, that should not
detract from Lamaison’s
performance, which included a
full house of 28 points.
Daniel Schofield
Women’s rugby
Portia Woodman
New Zealand 121-0 Hong Kong
2017 World Cup
It may have been a
one-sided game against
inferior opposition, but
there was no denying
the brilliance of
Woodman (right) as she
scored eight tries in the
pool game in Dublin. Her
final try, when she ran from
inside her own 22, slinking around
10 defenders, would go down as
one of the best tries in World Cup
history in the women’s or men’s
game. Woodman had moved
seamlessly from sevens to XVs,
having been part of the Black
Ferns side who won silver at the
Rio Olympics just 12 months
previously.
Kate RowanTennis
Stan Wawrinka
v Novak Djokovic
2015 French Open finalFor sheer “wow factor”, it must be
Wawrinka’s 2015 upset victory.
Djokovic is tennis’s taxman – in the
coinage of pundit Brad Gilbert- because he always
collects. But on this day,
Wawrinka (below) hit
screaming winner after
screaming winner,
including one
backhand from such a
wide position that it
curled around the
outside of the net post. As
the pros like to say, he played
out of his mind.
Simon Briggs
The Daily Telegraph Tuesday 27 August 2019 *** 9
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