For all the talk in the press of spitroasting, drug abuse, dog fighting rings, guns, and nightclub misdemeanours, sometimes, just sometimes, sportspeople reveal themselves to be worryingly boring. I was reminded of this by the recent interview with surly Seattle Mariners disappointment Erik Bedard which appeared in the Tacoma News Tribune.
“There wasn’t much reason to [smile in 2008], was there?” Bedard said this week.
He had a point. Bedard also had the wrong personality for an ace. His idea of a good time?
“Hanging out with my friends at home, changing the oil on my car …"
Bedard's revelation was reminiscent of Alan Shearer's confession that he creosoted his fence to 'celebrate' winning the Premiership in 1995. Earlier this year, David Bentley admitted that he is addicted to DIY:
At the minute I'm obsessed with DIY. I've been taking up tiles and knocking down walls, mending the potholes in my driveway - although I've got a strict DIY 24-hour ban before a match because it knackers you out.
In a world where even administrators are getting up to no good (yes Max Mosley, I'm talking about you), there is something oddly refreshing about quirks such as that of Shearer, Bedard and Bentley. After all, there is only so much one can say about a five-in-a-bed-drug-fuelled-romp - or whatever Premiership footballers do in Ayia Napa - before it gets clichéd.
How would the career of Diego Maradona have turned out if he liked nothing better than grouting tiles in his spare time? Or if Doc Gooden enjoyed putting flat-pack furniture together? Or if Marco Pantani was into gardening? How about if Rio, Fat Frank and Kieron Dyer had made a video in which they nailed some shelving into the wall? If only.
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