Why Sportsmen should really stick to sport

As everybody knows, Di Canio is currently dodging the flack after he professed an abiding affiliation with a secretive, undemocratic, malign organisation of yesteryear. 

And what’s more, as well as being an alleged champion of the Knights of St Columba, it seems he’s a fascist as well.

Paolo loves it, you can see that.  Controversy to guys like Di Canio is like a drug and like most junkies he knows where to find it, even when the supply is severely limited.

Who could ever forget the time he pushed over a referee, an incident that was most notable for the staggering, slow-motion tumble exhibited by the ref, one that wouldn’t have even got him pass marks in a wee boys best man falls competition.

Newly appointed Sunderland FC boss Paolo is being outed as a fascista on the basis of 2 crucial pieces of evidence.

Item 1 – he admitted it – openly declared it as a matter of fact and item 2, he described Benito Mussolini as an interesting, misunderstood man with strong morality and principles.

Let’s take number one, which on the face it seems the most damning.  The pronouncement - ‘I am a fascist’.

Sorry Paolo and it seems everybody else, I don’t buy it. 

Remember he said it when he was playing at Lazio, a team with a sizeable hard right fan base, a faction he did his best to suck up to when he gave them the now infamous, straight arm, RomanSalute.

Footballers trying to curry favour with the fans, who ever heard the like? 

Well me for a start and in fact, anyone else who’s ever witnessed the cringe-worthy sight of a million-a-month professional kissing the badge of his club in a pathetic attempt to hoodwink the fans into thinking it’s not all about the money.

(How ridiculous that looks 6 months later when he’s at another club?)

And Mussolini was a principled, ethical individual?  Well, he probably was, you know.  It was just that his principles and ethics were s**t.

No Paolo, saying you’re a fascist doesn’t make you one; in the same way that saying you’re a Socialist doesn’t make you one either as numerous identities in British politics over the last 20 years have effortlessly demonstrated.

Di Canio of course has been brought to Sunderland in a major time of crisis – he has a handful of games to save them from relegation and the owner of the club obviously thinks that inserting a narcissistic mad-as-a-cut-snake Italian show pony up the a****s of the first team squad might just be the way to fire them up and do it.

I think it’s a clever move.  An unpredictable coach so self-obsessively driven, (not to say unhinged), who is liable to do almost anything at any given time would be hard to ignore and let’s face it, most professional sportsmen are motivated by fear anyway– of losing some of their pay packet – a sanction PDC has used to some effect in his previous coaching work. 

(And he might give you a smack in the teeth at the same time.)

I’m no longer surprised by the political affiliation of footballers, like most athletes they’re completely detached from reality since their focus – aided and abetted by trainers, mangers and agents from an early age - has exclusively been on themselves.

Tolerance and empathy isn’t usually your strong suit when you’ve been treated like a valuable commodity since you were 12 and that isn’t about to change just because you’ve hung the boots up. 

You’re out of touch.  And frankly, you’re glad you are.

In Australia, the idea of sports stars becoming role models and worse, community leaders has long existed in the field of indigenous politics.

It’s to Australia’s continuing shame that Aboriginals are profoundly underrepresented in almost every sphere of influence with the sole exception of sport, the one pursuit where natural ability can – in some cases – overcome lack of educational opportunity, discrimination and disadvantage.

A number of Aboriginal sporting stars from footballers of various codes to Olympic runner Cathy Freeman have been put forward as mentors, roles for which, in the main, they’re not truly qualified, given that though they can kick a ball far or run fast, they don’t necessarily possess charisma, oratory skills or even a political agenda.

This becomes evident when you hear them speak – as I have – and note how they tend to rely on slogans like ‘follow your dream’ and ‘be true to yourself’, which isn’t bad advice exactly, but on the other hand, doesn’t actually mean very much if you’re a young Koori kid from a remote township living in desperate circumstances and an environment which frankly is more 3rd World than 21st Century Australia.

Slogans aren’t going to cut it.  Only political investment and a clear, positive ideology can do that.

You can bet however, that if Sunderland do duly avoid the drop, Di Canio will be lionised as rescuer in chief, with his dodgy affiliations if that’s what they are, completely forgotten, until half way through next season when, due to poor results they’ll re-emerge and he’ll probably be given what we here in Oz call ‘the a**e’.

And therein lies the problem.  Most football fans don’t give a monkeys about what the coach or players believes or how they behave as long as they’re doing the business on the pitch. 

Success is everything, second place is nowhere, nice guys finish last - you know all the clichés  - and you also know that the only place they can be used with any authenticity is in sport, rather than life.

Unlike sport, life isn’t about winning.  It’s about being fair, getting along with other people, looking after each other, making sure that everybody – not just the talented elite – get a slice of the pie.

Paolo Di Canio, Sir Alex Ferguson, Mourinho, Wenger, Benitez and all the rest are undoubtedly great, maybe even brilliant football coaches. 

But the chances are, that’s all they are.