A formidable exposition

Press, 17 July 1979, Page 17

A formidable exposition

Television and Radio

Dressing-room recrimination.-, are always unedifying affairs, putting a crimp in the after-match destruction of property, the overdrinking, and the comparison of the latest styles and colours of Jockeys that the game is really all about. Yet the hunt for the Joker Who Blew It when

a game has been lost seems an integral part of the proud All Black tradition. Saturday's test was superb rugby, excellently broadcast, but the steam -.as still rising from the last discarded jockstrap as the tasteless and irritating witch-hunt begun, and recrimination was given another spin on "The Big Match” (TVI, Sunday). It has often struck me that the English tradition that the game’s the thing, must have perished in the boat on the way our. The game on Saturday, and the edited version of it on Sunday, provided an overwhelming explanation of why otherwise sane and sensible people go a hit daft when presented with a rugby match; the dour and ponderous tut-tutting that the loss produced provided an equally strong demonstration of why other sane and sensible people wouldn’t touch it with a forty-foot goalpost. ‘‘The Big Match” is a fine Sunday tradition,

allowing a sober . reappraisal of Saturday’s events, but we could do without the finger-point-ing. TVI has found itself a sort of resident blowhard in Norm Wilson, an aftermatch analyst who seems to embody all the relentless, driving opinionspouting of every arm-

chair athlete that ever reduced an epioyable game to long-winded and sombre strategic studies. We'd already had a dose of Mr Wjlson on Saturday: that was plenty. Sunday’s drone-in did give us the unprecedented sight and sound of an All Black speaking another language as Graham M o u r i e congratulated Rives, the French captain, in front of the French television cameras. “L’equipe francaise est magniftque,” said Mourie (“French equipment is magnificent.”). This attempt to attribute the French win to the quality of their boots and shorts, rather than to the team itself. seemed a little gracious, but it seemed to knock Jon Neilson out. “How many of you out there knew Graham Mourie was multilingual," he asked in tones of wonder. Good point. All Black forwards have come a long way since the days, not all that long ago. when after-match interviews seemed like

macabre clips from a documentary about the dangers of riding motorbikes without crash helmets.

We also heard the Frenchie commentator getting over-excited in the und-gnified and unmanly way those Continental chaps do. about the Frenchie tries. He has a Quinnesque way of raving that, even though my French is not what it might be if I spoke it at all, made it clear he wasn’t saying all that much. His commentary' on what was the most dazzling try Eden Park has seen for a long time, was: "Oui, out, opi,' GUI, GUI, oiti, oui, oui, OUI, OUI, OH, OUI.”

L sounded like the sound track from one of those doubtful films the Frenchie characters are reputed to be fond of, and one could almost imagine

Quinn grinning in approval- After all, both commentators seem to speak English as a second language.

Sunday's television later gave us an excellent play, “Spaghetti Two-step'’ (TVI), which milked to perfection the comic possibilities of a handful of conversations in one res- j taurant.

But it was sport that seemed to thread through the afternoon and evening, mainly in the peculiar form of the Motogard car rally.

, I’m well aware that some of the best brains in i the motor industry are devoted to producing indisputable evidence that the average funeral uses more fuel than a motor rally; hut considering the extent of this country's energy crisis, a car rally has the same bizarre interest as swimming competitions in | the pool of the Titanic. I

By

JOHN COLLINS