The Times - UK (2021-12-18)

basketball concept, the idea that with
every consecutive shot a player
makes, they get “hotter”, and thus
more likely to succeed with their next,
eventually entering such a state of
sublime incandescence that they
almost cannot miss. Of course it’s
something that applies to all sorts of
sports: from the streaky finisher in
football who just cannot stop scoring
to the tennis player who gets “in the
zone” and hits every line.
The question that Cohen sets out to
answer is: do streaks really exist, or
are they an illusion borne of our
innate tendency to see patterns in
randomness? Applied to sport alone,
this would be an interesting premise,
if a little narrow. But this book
attempts something far more
ambitious and expansive: a sort of
Hot Hand theory of history and
society, taking in everything from
gambling to beet farming, and
everyone from Shakespeare to Steph

the times | Saturday December 18 2021 1GS 19

Riveting Russian revelations

Edward VIII within weeks. “By what

right do you play for England?” he

asked Obolensky. “I attend Oxford

University, sir,” the Russian Prince

replied.

Prince Alexander Sergeevich

Obolensky was born in St

Petersburg in 1916, his father an

officer of Tsar Nicholas II’s Imperial

Horse Guards. The family fled the

Russian Revolution in 1919, a month

before Alexander’s third birthday,

and settled in north London.

Obolensky did not have British

citizenship when he was picked for

England, leading to some objections

to his selection. His performance

against the All Blacks led to him

being labelled “a genius”, his story

told in every newspaper, his speed

compared with Eric Liddell and his

nickname “The Flying Prince” was

soon born.

Obolensky toured with the British

& Irish Lions, played for the

Barbarians and was rarely out of the

papers but he was destined to win

only four England caps. Having

signed up for the RAF, he crashed

his Hurricane after a training flight

in Suffolk and was killed at the age

of 24.

His stardom was fleeting but

Obolensky’s name is immortalised

in English rugby. Quite the story,

superbly told.

Alex Lowe

THE FLYING PRINCE:

ALEXANDER

OBOLENSKY – THE

RUGBY HERO WHO

DIED TOO YOUNG

by Hugh Godwin

Hodder & Stoughton,

316pp; £20

I

n a year when international

eligibility has been hotly

debated, leading to World

Rugby loosening its regulations,

and Eddie Jones raising

concerns about his England players

becoming superstars, Hugh Godwin

has written a detailed, compelling

biography of Prince Alexander

Obolensky to remind us that neither

issue is new to rugby.

Obolensky was arguably rugby’s

first superstar, thrust into the

limelight after scoring two sublime

tries on his international debut in

1936 as England defeated New

Zealand for the first time.

Grainy television footage exists

but the whole occasion is described

here in wonderful detail; the whole

book is notable for the depth of

Godwin’s research into Obolensky’s

life story.

Shortly before kick-off, the team

were introduced to the Prince of

Wales, who would become King

and Clough’s inner depths

Navigating Mariner’s story

Music in London, handling artists’

releases on Spotify and Apple, to talk

about his father.

“When someone’s gone from this

world I feel like people start to

appreciate them [more], which is a

little sad,” George said. “When they’re

still here they should be celebrated

and I don’t think Dad was celebrated

enough.” Mariner was a No 9 who

could hold up the ball and score and

had the intelligence of a No 10.

“People forget he was fairly quick as

well,” George added. “He had a really

good touch, good with left and right

foot. He dropped off on to the wing

sometimes and carried the ball. He

wasn’t just a target man and

goalscorer. He worked hard for his

team-mates.

“He always played his career down.

If we ever went to a restaurant or the

cinema, any sort of event, Dad would

never say that he was a footballer. He

was very humble.

“He was really, really generous with

his time. When he met my friends he

always said, ‘If you ever come to the

States, feel free to stay at my house.’

This is when he was in Boston. He

would do anything for anyone. He

was a very loving person, the life and

soul as well. If you were in the same

room as him you’d hear him.

“Dad always had a deep love of

music. When we were kids he actually

had a drum kit and he was always

playing it. Being a professional, Dad

met all these stars whether Metallica,

AC/DC, Iron Maiden, Deep Purple.

“Me and my dad had a phenomenal

relationship. We were always

laughing.”

Mariner brought so much joy, on

and off the pitch, and his memoirs are

a worthy testament.

Henry Winter

PAUL MARINER: MY

ROCK AND ROLL

FOOTBALL STORY

By Paul Mariner with

Mark Donaldson

Reach; 336pp; £15.19

P

aul Mariner, the former

England striker, experienced

severe headaches on

October 9 and 10 last year,

suddenly fell off his chair at

home and was violently sick on

October 15, was taken to hospital, got

scanned and underwent surgery on a

brain tumour on October 29.

During the ensuing radiotherapy,

Mariner decided to write his memoirs,

working with his friend Mark

Donaldson, the ESPN commentator

and journalist, recalling his time at

Plymouth Argyle, Ipswich Town,

Arsenal, Portsmouth and his 35 caps

with England, including scoring at the

1982 World Cup. There was so much

to write about.

Mariner died on July 9, 2021, aged

68, and tributes flowed from all

quarters, from former team-mates

such as Terry Butcher, John Wark

and Peter Shilton to those he met

while coaching and commentating in

the United States, including Jürgen

Klinsmann, to friends he made while

pursuing his passion for rock music

such as Deep Purple’s Ian Gillan.

The book wasn’t finished but

Donaldson skilfully wove in all the

tributes to produce one of the most

moving books of the year. A simple

review wouldn’t do the book justice.

Instead, on Thursday I rang Paul’s son

George, who works for Universal

Curry, and refracting each of its

subjects through the fundamental

question of whether one success

begets another.

The effect is, perhaps deliberately,

dizzying and Gladwell-esque. The

author does a fine job of synthesising

the enormous amount of research

that exists on this topic, and skilfully

weaves together anecdotes and data.

If you just want to know if the striker

in your fantasy football team is any

likelier to score because he’s scored in

his past two games — not an

unreasonable basis for picking up this

book — you may occasionally be

frustrated by The Hot Hand’s restless

circumnavigation of the question at

its heart. But if you’re interested in

the intersection of talent, luck, human

behaviour and perception, and enjoy

sports books that resolutely refuse to

stay in their lane, you’ll find much to

enjoy in this one.

James Gheerbrant

2012

WHEN I FELL

IN LOVE WITH

CYCLING

11am. A nondescript Sunday

in December, nine years ago.

Up and down the country,

young amateurs training,

chasing a dream to one day

emulate their heroes. In all

likelihood they train and

compete with peers, of similar

ages, geographical upbringing

and talent.

I too am training, out in the

great British outdoors,

enjoying a mild but typically

wet morning. It just happens

to be that my sport involves

public roads and dodging

Christmas shoppers, tractors

and the occasional pheasant.

I am a 17-year-old aspiring

road cyclist, starting my

career in the golden-age of

British cycle sport. I look to

my right, my friend James is

red in the cheeks, droplets of

rain and perspiration on his

beard. His eyes squint,

focused on the road, the effort

written across his face. The

heavy roads drain any

remaining power we have,

after a tough four hours and

120km on the lanes of Essex.

We met just after sunrise,

heading out of east London as

most still lay asleep in their

beds. But like any cyclist, we

hope for the best; for a clear

sky and prevailing wind, a

little sunshine. Ultimately, the

endorphins and sense of

achievement will come

regardless of the weather.

James is 15 years my senior.

We share many long rides in

the next years. And in those

hours we have many long

conversations. He becomes

like an older brother to me as

we spend hours discussing the

ways of the world, or simply

just riding in silence.

What other sport crosses

such age divides, brings

people together in such a

way? The social element of

cycling is akin to no other

sport. The professional riders

race across the world, up and

down mountains, in and out

of major cities. Yet there is

nothing stopping you

travelling those exact routes

the very next day after the

race.

We may only find a handful

of hours in the saddle

together these days. But the

conversation and the bond

continue, as strong as ever.

EVENING STANDARD/GETTY IMAGES

The 2020 Giro

d’Italia winner Tao

Geoghegan Hart

enjoyed the hard

yards on

the roads

of Essex