Midweek Fixture: Once were weekend warriors - editing Alan Duff's weird words

Alan Duff climbs on the shoulders of giant Julian Savea to make tortured point. Photo / Photosport

By Dylan Cleaver
A clear-eyed editing of the latest offering from Alan Duff.

[Abridged, because it really is interminable.]

"Thanks, Julian Savea, for the 46 times you scored tries for the All Blacks, the joy you have given your country."

Editor's note: Intro is fine, if a bit syrupy.

"No thanks to the sportswriters and knocker fans for saying you're finished at the age of 27. Thumbs-down the spurious claim that greatness ends at that age."

Ed: it would help your case if you cited actual examples. If you are referring to this piece, then you are guilty of selective reading. Surely you'd agree that if nothing else, it is an interesting quirk that four of New Zealand's greatest outside backs never played for the All Blacks beyond 27? Surely you'd agree that by being dropped from the All Blacks, there is a chance, even if it's small, that the same fate befalls the great Savea?

"Mediocrity, at about the age of 10, makes itself known when its possessor becomes aware he wakes each day seething with jealousy and resentment of his peers who have a sunny outlook, yet possess a killer competitive attitude playing sport.

"Our unpersonable young mediocrity starts to wonder how he can even the genetic score."

Ed: What academic study or research are you citing here? These are some bold claims. If they are derived from nothing more than personal experience, this would be a good time to mention it.

"At 15 or 16 with no girlfriends and hardly any mates added to the festering mind, mediocre people are down to wanting revenge. But how, against such impossible odds? Become a sports journalist."

Ed: I have known many sports journalists since the mid-90s. There's the odd one who's maladroit or socially awkward, I'll include myself in that number, but most seem well-adjusted, many are married or in long-term relationships and many have lives outside their jobs. Yes, lots of them would have loved to have been better at their chosen sport/s, but few seemed motivated to get into the industry through revenge. In fact, Alan, most seem to have increased admiration for the elite sportsmen and women they cover because of their own, as you would no doubt put it, athletic shortcomings.

"(That's my invite to the paper's Christmas party gone.)"

Ed: Nah, we let all sorts of a***holes in.

"Or join the crop of beer-slugging couch spuds and make an art of putting down sportsmen and knocking back beers, gobbling chips."

Ed: Tired old cliche.

"Here's a little test I've used for years to reveal a person's true character: Tell him or her of someone's success. And watch the eyes glaze over. Ram it home by giving big dollar numbers gained and see the faint tremor of facial muscles."

Ed: You should really patent and trademark that test. Seems utterly reliable.

"That's envy coming to the boil. Hatred comes next. Self-hatred later in their bathroom mirror."

Ed: This sounds awfully like self-analysis. Are you okay?

"Thank you, Tana - no surname required for a legend - for getting the [Blues] ship under control. Thank you for beating the Lions when every single scribe in the country said 'impossible'."

Ed: References please. Given that the Lions were heavily criticised a few days earlier after stumbling to victory over a weak Barbarians side, it surprises me that "every single scribe in the country" said it was impossible. In fact, I flat out think you're lying about that.

"Since when was any game of rugby or rugby league won from a laptop or the couch?"

Ed: Since when was any claim thus made? Please furnish examples.

"Think of the poor parents of these boys who have sacrificed so much to ensure son gets into a top team only to read or hear him being battered."

Ed: Poorly written. Please re-write. Also, explain how parental sacrifice "ensures" a "son gets into a top team".

"Knock, knock. Who's there? 'Me, whose name kind of rhymes with knock. Best rugby analyst in the world. A scorching rugby career in my primary school second XV, third in the 20-metre under-9 freestyle swim, you should have seen it. What did you ask? Well, yes, that was me booing the guy's kicks at goal the other day. He's the opposition'."

Ed: Rhymes with knock. I see what you did there. Nice one. In a column full of low points, this paragraph might be the basement.

"If every time a sports journalist put their copy in and the editor told the whole country he is not up to the job? [sic] How long before he resigned and looked for other work?"

Ed: Oh don't worry Alan, every time a sports journalist puts their copy in, someone will tell them they're not up to the job. Just as often we're criticised for being cheerleaders and not being harsh enough. It's sport. It divides opinion. Part of the beauty of it is that not every opinion has to correspond. Much like I believe your column is the laziest salad of words ever committed to print, I'm sure there are others lining up to pat you on the back for having the courage to take this important stand.

"'The Bus' will be back. The Warriors and the Blues will find the winning formula. The hacks and couch spuds? Never."

Ed: I hope you're right about the first two sentences. You really should have finished it there before delving back into tired old cliché. But you know what, because we believe in the principle of without fear or favour, we'll run this nonsense.

--

New Zealand Cricket CEO David White is set to learn the hard way what media companies already have: You don't help your organisation's long-term outlook by making your product weaker, though it may save you money in the short term.

--

On Sunday night I saw a 57-year-old man try to belittle an opponent who had probably spent much of his 22 years on Earth worshipping his tormentor.

And the crowd cheered.

Darts legend Phil 'Abuse of Power' Taylor behaved like a jerk.

And the crowd loved it.

Corey Cadby, a 22-year-old Tasmanian, didn't. He was playing one of the biggest matches of his life, playing well, and had to contend with the world's most famous practitioner of this curious and singular art mocking his every twitch and idiosyncratic mannerism.

Taylor's actions, though ultimately unsuccessful, were cruel and unnecessary.

And the crowd sang him "Happy Birthday".

Cadby held his nerve and won the match.

He didn't, as is custom, sign the dartboard. Taylor mocked him for that, too, tossing a marker pen at the departing victor while basking in the crowd's unswerving devotion.

To the loser, the spoils.

During post-match analysis for broadcast and the crowd, former player Rob Harrington used the pulpit to berate Cadby for his lack of grace and to remind him that he could end up being a millionaire because of Taylor's trailblazing.

Not one reproach, as far as I could hear, for Taylor's infantilism.

Harrington, like Taylor, was playing for the crowd.

In a classic case of mob mentality, the sort we're seeing create problems all over the world at the moment, the crowd piled on the young man too, breaking out in "Cadby's a wanker" chants in the final.

He lost an 11-10 classic to compatriot Kyle Anderson.

It was a match played in impeccable spirits. Cadby was an entirely gracious loser.

It's probably the last time Taylor will play down here as he has announced he will quit the tour after next year's world championships.

Can't say I'm upset by that.

READS OF THE WEEK ...

It always makes me chuckle when journalists and broadcasters return from the Olympics and claim what a great job the hosts did and how everyone that was predicting it would be a shambles was wrong. Golden rule: always wait. With a year passed, it is safe to declare that the Olympics, outside of two weeks in 2016, did little good for the people of Rio de Janeiro.