I’m back and what a couple of weeks its been.
I know you won’t believe me, but I’ve genuinely been working hard. Well, working hard by my standards anyway.
Travel … presentations … pitches … birthdays … visitors … holidays … meetings … campaigns … do you feel sorry for me?
No, I didn’t think so. Dammit.
Well, I’m certainly not going to bore you with what I did. Instead, I’ll bore you about a football match.
From 1990.
Hey, it makes a change from Brits banging on about winning the World Cup in 1966 doesn’t it?
The football match I’m talking about is the one between England and Germany in the 1990 World Cup finals.
In all honesty, the 1990 World Cup was my favourite World Cup of all.
Not only was it in Italy – my Mum’s home country – but it also had the best theme song for any World Cup, Pavarotti’s version of Nesunn Dorma … a piece by Puccini that seems to have been written specifically for the drama and flamboyance of the World Cup in Italy, despite being written in the early 1920’s.
But there is another reason why that World Cup – more than any other – captured my imagination, and that is because it was the first World Cup where I was now old enough to watch the games in my local pub – a place where the atmosphere of each match was only second to actually being there.
The reason I’m saying this is because I recently watched the magnificent documentary One Night In Turin and it not only brought back all those wonderful feelings and emotions [as well as remind me of some stuff I had literally forgotten about], but it reminded me what legends are made of.
Mr Colman wrote something about sporting legends on his blog a while back.
It’s a wonderful piece … highlighting the difference between people who have a natural talent for sport and those whose abilities are driven by their heart rather than their body.
Anyway, as I was watching the documentary, I saw something I had forgotten.
This was it …
No, it’s not Chris Waddle missing his penalty – I certainly remember that – it was how the German captain, Lothar Matthaus, didn’t join his team mates as they celebrated winning the match that meant they were in the final, but instead went over to Waddle to console him and didn’t leave his side until he had been placed in the care of his fellow England team mates.
What a fucking legend.
With sports stars constantly being showered with compliments and praise, Lothar Matthaus’ simple act of compassion reminded me the difference between talent and legend and reaffirmed why I believe empathy trumps curiosity in terms of what is the most important trait you can have in a planner.