The boxer and the jockey
This column starts with a warning. It's entirely subjective. Objectivity has been kicked out the window. Sitting in Frankfurt airport last Sunday, trying to imagine what the German headline writers are saying about the World Cup draw (put the words Heidi Klum, uber-sexiness, Iran and banned in a short sentence) I got to listen to Bernard Dunne talking to Jimmy Magee. They were sitting in a little Franziskaner bar with pine from roof to ceiling and nothing on offer but mediocre tea and cold brioche. Dunne's trainer, manager, a world champion yodeller and a couple of others were watching and laughing. Bernard looks up from his paper to say, "Jimmy, I'm going to sue you for slander". Jimmy, delighted but feigning innocence, barely concealing his smile, asks: "Who, me?"
It turns out that, half way through Dunne's six-round defeat of Marian Leondraliu, he could hear the Irish commentator say, "that looked like a low blow from Dunne, but neither the referee nor his opponent noticed it". The entire Leipzig Arena heard him as the German crowd appreciated the fight rather than engaged with it, but Dunne had heard Jimmy's commentary for most of the fight as clear as day. "I was going to turn around and tell you to get your eyes tested" and Jimmy laughed a belly-laugh.
I've yet to meet someone with a bad word to say about Bernard Dunne. Everyone regards him as a top prospect. Brendan Ingle, famous as the man who made Naseem Hamed a prince, rates Dunne as one of the top emerging fighters in Europe and there are similar testimonies from the US. But more than his prospects, people talk of him as a grounded person, intent on degrees of improvement every time he steps into the ring to spar or fight, every time he does a session in the gym, every time he talks with a nutritionist, fighting for himself and his family.
In my own case I've seen him win a war of a fight in a hostile arena in St Paul, Minnesota where he suffered a head-butt that bled into his eyes after ten seconds of the first round, dance his way out of serious trouble in the National Stadium, pummel a visiting Englishman in his last fight there and now go to Germany and beat up a fighter used to fighting much bigger guys than Bernard. The entire way through he's been open and honest about what problems he faces and also about the advantages he possesses. Even after the war in St Paul, despite feeling pain everywhere, he was joking with the nurse: "I finally get to say: if you think I'm bad, you should see the other guy". I want him to win.
On Monday afternoon at the HRI awards in Dublin's Westin Hotel, someone recounted a story about Kieren Fallon during the annual media open day at Ballydoyle at the start of last season. Fallon won a case against the News of the World a few years back and has been paying a heavy price since as he's fallen victim to sting operations and had his every move stalked, awaiting a wrong turn.
He was asked if he missed England. "Yeah, six to eight hours on the motorway every day, you guys prying non-stop and hassle everywhere, I'm not sure how I'll cope without it".
There was a recurring theme from the Irish jockeys at the event: that the Irish racing media were a bit softer than their English counterparts when it came to lines of questioning. There's a very delicate and precarious balancing act going on here. By being a bit gentler, the Irish racing media are trusted by the subjects of their stories and get the truth quicker. But do the punters also believe and are they being served or is the relationship too cosy?
Racing journalism is frequently about the story of the protagonists and the endless hours of work that go into preparing a horse for victory. It's usually impossible to write those stories and witness the work without developing admiration, but the story also needs to be about the honest chances that horse has of winning a race because equally hard work earns the punters' money.
Of course, the relationship in Ireland is symbiotic, and both sides benefit. Of course, racing journalists appreciate, like boxing journalists, that every time a rider or a fighter goes out it's physically dangerous. But the culture of respect means that you can trust the riders and trainers and owners, generally, to give you an accurate steer in the direction of the truth. Both boxing and racing are sports we do well in Ireland. Both sports also do the media well. Do we really have to be fair and balanced when talking about them?