A plethora of books will be published about this country’s incredible year of sport, but unless some bankruptcy-minded publisher offers me a huge advance, “2012: Year of the British Sporting Curmudgeon” will not be joining the pile.
Then again, perhaps it only needs a sentence to record the curiosity that, of our four outstanding heroes (Mo Farah being the exception), three share an imperious contempt for winning popularity contests.
Enough has been written about Andy Murray’s irascibility and the endearing spikiness with which Bradley Wiggins begins to make his idol Paul Weller look like Kris Akabusi at a nitrous oxide party.
So today I want to celebrate the overlooked third of this abrasive holy trinity, and confess to a man-crush on Ian Poulter. Poults is a 300-1 no-hoper for BBC Sports Personality, but were there a hybrid prize for “Individual Team Player of the Year” he would be a shoo-in for that.
With his five birdies over the five closing holes in the Saturday afternoon four balls, he single-handedly rescued the Ryder Cup with a show of emotion-powered brilliance the like of which even that dependably melodramatic intercontinental mash-up had never witnessed.
“I think the Ryder Cup should build a statue to him,” said captain José María Olazábal after the event. So it should, though the likeness would have to be erected on this side of the Atlantic to avoid defacement.
Source from: telegraph.co.uk