The Pantheon of British Sporting Losers

What do Frank Bruno, David Coulthard, Colin Montgomerie and the Olympics version of Paula Radcliffe have in common? Well, apart from the fact that none of them shot J. R., and that none of them would ever have considered letting the dogs out, they are all also proud members of that dubiously illustrious brotherhood: the pantheon of British Sporting Losers (President: Timothy Henman). Along with many others, these athletes represent that fine list of also-rans whose silver medals epitomise that great British tradition of sporting pluck, and that great British tradition of sporting underachievement, individuals who ran, drove, punched or simply hit a ball towards the promised land but then, perhaps far too predictably, fell rather short.

But do not let this tongue-in-cheek introduction confuse, or even offend, you. In the words of the South African chiropodist, there is, after all, nothing wrong with defeat – particularly at the top-level. The British sporting media – and even the average fan – are responsible for this, often over-inflating a prospect’s hopes and exciting the nation, only to see these dashed to pieces and leading to wry smiles of ‘not again’. Perhaps the British are to blame for not recognising sporting achievement in a far more general way. Henman was, after all, the fourth best in the world for a long time and, in Pete Sampras and Roger Federer, was sandwiched between two of the greatest tennis players in history; Coulthard won 13 Grand Prix races and was a thorn in the side of Formula 1’s greatest ever champion: Michael Schumacher; Montgomerie is third all-time among European golfers; and Radcliffe, of course, holds the women’s world record for the marathon. But, in the eyes of John Bull (is that expression still used?), the fact that their particular Holy Grails (Wimbledon, the F1 Drivers’ Championship, any golf major, and Olympic gold) eluded them belittles their other achievements and makes Losers of them all.

Boxing is a particular victim of this gold-or-bust attitude that turns men from over-hyped heroes to lowly zeroes. While Bruno flies the Loser flag, he nonetheless leads a parade of disappointment that includes “Prince” Naseem Hamed, Amir “Rustler’s Burger” Khan, Audley “Who?” Harrison and, following his recent humiliation, Ricky “Almost Made It” Hatton. Lennox Lewis, we hear, is pleased at not being invited to this party.

This is a shame because Britain is not exactly short of sporting heroes. The nation that gave us Sir Steve Redgrave has also given us snooker’s Ronnie O’Sullivan, darts’ Phil “The Power” Taylor and, in recent years, Formula 1’s Lewis Hamilton and Jensen Button (apparently his success this season has nothing to do with his car). The Beijing Olympics also revealed a new generation of world-class swimmers, cyclists and boxers. And, yet, there is almost a lack of pride in these individuals in favour of those who did not make it. While the back pages are dominated by Radcliffe’s latest injury, few column inches are dedicated to the likes of Rebecca Adlington’s world-beating performances. Had Britain been Spain – where sporting heroes are lauded to the point of asphyxiation – Rocket Ronnie’s face would be emblazoned on cheap bandanas and sold in every street market in the country in celebration of one of Britain’s golden sportsmen. But, instead, Monty missed the cut. Again.

Whether the solution is for Britain to switch their attention to their true winners, or to stop over-blowing the chances of the slightest of contenders, or to simply accept the fact that lesser-populated Australia can produce better runners, swimmers, cricketers and rugby players, I am not sure. But what I am sure of is that the British Sporting Losers’ annual meat-market – Wimbledon – is just around the corner, and we might just be welcoming in the group’s latest member.