Poor old Frank Lampard. Actually,
not poor. Not by a long chalk. Not that old either. But old enough for Chelsea to decide,
according to Lampard’s agent, not to offer the England midfielder a new contract
‘under any circumstances’ at the end of this season.
It’s a move that’s been criticised by some as a display of disloyalty on
the part the club. I think we’ve got to
be careful how we use words like ‘loyalty’ in the context of professional
sport. In much the same way as ‘loyalty
card’ is a complete misnomer – it should be ‘bribery voucher’ or some such –
notions of loyalty between club and player can only be viewed in relation to
the contractual agreement between the two parties.
Sensibly for Chelsea, but unfortunately for Lampard who’s been a great ‘servant’
(now that really is the wrong choice
of word), the club are not willing to keep him on the books on improved terms
versus his current contract. Why would
they? In business terms, he’s an asset
whose value diminishes over time; no company in its right mind would pay more
now than five years ago when he was worth a lot more.
If Lampard winds up at Manchester United, and neither the club nor the
fans could complain if he did, that would fire up the disloyalty debate all
over again.
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Kieren Fallon switches horses
mid-stream
Kieren Fallon has said in the past that he prefers the company of horses
to that of many humans. Certainly, when the
six-time champion jockey whispers sweet nothings in the pricked ears of his
mounts on the course or the gallops, his words can’t get him into trouble. When he does interact with people, he
attracts controversy as a sweating thoroughbred draws horse flies on a summer’s
day. He’s been banned from racing for
drug offences, beating Signor Dettori to that punch by several years. In 2004, he was the subject of a tabloid
sting on race fixing, an offence of which he was later found not guilty at the
Old Bailey.
But perhaps the most bizarre row in which Fallon has found himself
embroiled came before the Epsom Derby in 2011.
He’d been booked to ride the Ed Dunlop-trained Native Khan, a likeable
grey who had a live chance of springing a surprise in the big race. Fallon had won on Native Khan both times he’d
ridden the colt, most recently in the Craven Stakes, a decent Classic trial. But then, in the week leading up to Epsom, he
announced that he would instead be riding Recital, trained by the
all-conquering Aidan O’Brien and winner of another Derby trial in Ireland.
This horse-switching is not uncommon, particularly among the top jockeys
who are much in demand. It must be
frustrating for connections but that’s just the way it is, for example, where
retained relationships take precedence over freelance arrangements. So when Native Khan’s owner, Ibrahim Araci,
threatened legal action to prevent Fallon from riding another horse in the
Derby, my reaction was along the lines of: “selfish owner not used to not
getting his own way and being vindictive.”
But then it emerged that Fallon had signed a contract. He’d actually put pen to paper on an
agreement to ride Native Khan for a year whenever asked and, if not asked, not
to ride a rival in the same race. Fallon
had openly and deliberately reneged on both of these contractual promises. The result: the court injunction was granted
and Fallon was left without a ride in the Derby.
On the surface, these appear to be the arrogant actions of a man who
believes the normal rules don’t apply to him.
My take, though, is that Fallon is just, to put it politely, a little
naïve. Either way, best stick to the
horses, Kieren.
As a footnote, Native Khan finished fifth under replacement jockey
Johnny Murtagh behind the French-trained winner, Pour Moi, with Recital, ridden
by Pat Smullen, two lengths back in sixth.
--
“Say it ain’t so, Joe”
Perhaps the strangest aspect of the most infamous case of sporting
disloyalty in history is that it was never proven. ‘Shoeless’ Joe Jackson and his seven Chicago
White Sox team-mates accused of throwing the 1919 World Series for $5,000
apiece were acquitted of any wrong-doing.
However, the acquittal came in 1921 and the interim saw enough media
muddying of the waters for the stain to become permanent. On the one hand, there’s very little evidence
that Jackson himself under-performed in the series to lend weight to the theory
that he was party to a fix: statistics note that his batting average was the
highest on either side (he also holds the third highest career average in
history) and that he made no individual errors in the field. On the other, newspaper reports carried
purported quotes from the grand jury trial in which Jackson owns up to ‘crooked
work’ in the field that ‘netted the Cincinnati [Reds] team several runs that
they never would have had if we had been playing on the square.’ Important to note, though, that the official
grand jury record makes no mention of the quote.
Even the most celebrated incident of the whole sorry affair – where a
young, dewy-eyed fan is said to have pleaded “Say it ain’t so, Joe” as Jackson
left the courtroom one day – is widely thought to be apocryphal.
If we’re to hold true to the notion of ‘innocent until proven guilty’,
we must maintain that Jackson and his team-mates were clean. I do hope so.
Say it wasn’t so, Joe.
Nevertheless, it’s a slur on sport made more shocking through the lens
of history because it happened in supposedly more innocent times. Well, whatever the truth, the 1919 World Series
scandal and the American media’s reporting of it teach us this: there were never more innocent times.
--
Next up: Lance Armstrong explaining his alleged betrayal of cycling on
Oprah…
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