Commentary Corner

Lord Butler is a former president of Oxford University Rugby Football Club.

Fifty years ago, when I was struggling for selection for the Oxford University rugby XV, I was told a story about that great New Zealand cricketer and rugby player, Martin Donnelly, which has always stuck in my mind.

Donnelly was captain of an Oxford University cricket team which was legendary for its fine fielding. In one match, following an injury to one of the established players, a young freshman was called up to fill his place in the team.

Donnelly said to this young player “The man you’re replacing fields at first slip and he never drops catches. I’m going to put you in his place and I rely on you to match his performance. But if you’re unfortunate enough to drop a catch, don’t get worked up, relax and then you’re more likely to catch the next one. And if you drop a second one, again relax because then it’s more likely to be third time lucky. And if, very unfortunately, you drop a third catch, just relax because you’ll never be playing for us again”.

Heartless, some may think, and not likely to put the young player at his ease. Some might even say that it was not good leadership. But at the time and ever since, I have taken a different view. If Donnelly had spoken in those terms to me, I should have thought that it was fair enough. I used to think about this story when I was trying to get my rugby blue and I have often thought about it since.

The great opportunity which we had at University was the opportunity for single- minded and uncompromising pursuit of excellence. As soon as one of the matches against Cambridge at Twickenham was over, we would devote ourselves to building a team which would win the following year’s match. That was the target for which everything in the meantime was a preparation.

It was not that the intermediate steps were unimportant or lacking in enjoyment. We had the opportunity, whether in cricket or rugby, to play with and against some of the greatest players of the time. There were six internationals from various parts of the world in each of the Oxford XVs I played in—and one All-American football star. Before the next match against Cambridge they would represent their countries several times. In the great post-war days, Colin Cowdrey, David Sheppard and Peter May combined playing cricket for Oxford and Cambridge with playing for England. But our object when we were together at University was to iron out every defect in our collective and individual performances with a view to our next trial against Cambridge.

We were hard on ourselves. Every dropped pass, every missed tackle, every poor kick was remembered analysed and agonised over. I can still remember missed tackles of fifty years ago and the conclusions I came to about why I had allowed them to happen.

It was a wonderful feeling, this pursuit of excellence. So I would not have expected Martin Donnelly to say anything different to me from what he said to that young freshman. If I could not cut the bacon, I would not have expected to be given another turn at the slicer.

As I look back on it, this feeling is all the more satisfactory because we were amateurs. Nobody was paying us for the efforts we made. We did it for the fulfilment we achieved from doing as well as possible at something we enjoyed and from the companionship of others who were doing the same thing. And if we were disappointed in our objective – if we were on the losing side against Cambridge, as I was one year – the consolation was to know that at least we had given it all we had.

As I write this, I have on my desk a flyer for a book about the Cambridge University Rowing Club called “The Last Amateurs: To Hell and Back with the Cambridge Boat Race Crew”. The book is by Professor Mark de Rond, Reader in Strategy and Business Organisation at the Judge Business School, Cambridge and currently at Stanford University in the USA as a Fulbright Distinguished Scholar. Professor de Rond spent 7 months observing the life of the Cambridge University Boat Race Squad, as they were obliged to compete with their friends for a place in the Boat Race Crew and then to develop a crew capable of defeating Oxford.

There are two aspects of this which I find fascinating, though not surprising. One is that a distinguished Professor of Business Organisation should think that this subject provided a model so relevant to business organisation that he devoted seven months to studying it.

The second is that it was an amateur activity which provided the model. It caused me to reflect that commitment to the team has been shown to be a more important factor in achieving success than the brilliance of individuals. There was a famous year in which there were ructions in the Oxford crew described in the film “True Blue.” Olympic prima donnas were dropped from the Oxford crew, because they wouldn’t accept the training schedule. Without them, Oxford went on to win. When I thought of what the individualism and money motivation of some of the “Lords of the Universe” has led to in the current world financial crisis, I could see why de Rond thought that he could draw lessons from the lessons of an amateur rowing crew for business organisation.

Rugby has changed enormously in the fifty years since I was a student, as it has become a professional game at the top. There are now no members of the Oxford and Cambridge teams who can combine an academic course with representing their countries. The same is true of cricket.

It is understandable and inevitable that people of talent in any walk of life should want to sell their skill for what the market will bear. Yet I believe that something is lost in sport when the motivation for participating becomes money rather than the activity itself.

One of the hardest choices I have seen young talented people having to make is between taking their chance in professional sport and obtaining a university qualification. All too often the choice has to be made because professional sports teams are not prepared to take on part-timers.

In some cases, successful professional players return to academic studies after their professional career comes to an end. At Oxford this year we have had former All-Blacks captain, Anton Oliver, playing for us and Cambridge have Dan Vickerman, the Australian lock. For the previous two years, Oxford had the great Australian, Joe Roff, and before that Brett Robinson. What fine people these are and what a thrill it is for students to have the opportunity of playing alongside them.

I hugely admire people like this, not least because it is hard to return to demanding academic study when they are in their thirties and in some cases have family commitments as well. Only very remarkable people can do it.

Perhaps some of those who read this article will have the talent which requires them to make the hard choice between amateur sport and a University qualification on the one hand and a professional sporting career on the other. The thought I would like them to draw from this article is that the amateur route may not only offer an investment which lasts longer than a professional sporting career but great sporting satisfaction as well.

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