I knew it was a worrying development when, a few years ago in this newspaper, I read about an IRFU press conference during which Eddie O'Sullivan was said to have had a "wrap on the knuckles" for journalists indulging in premature talk about a grand slam, writes Frank McNally
It seemed understandable that, in a moment of anger, the Irish coach might want to punch a rugby reporter. But to attend a press conference wearing bandaged hands, in the manner of a professional boxer, suggested a degree of premeditation that was not healthy. Also - and call me old-fashioned if you like - I would hold to the view that if you are planning to take a swing at somebody, outside the ring, you should at least run the risk of hurting your fingers.
Now I see the IRFU are at the fighting talk again, albeit in more defensive mode. In an interview on Morning Irelandyesterday, discussing the Genesis report on the World Cup debacle, the union's chief executive Philip Browne suggested that management and players had no choice, vis à vis the criticism, but to "put their hands up" and "take it on the chin".
One must hope that the rugby writers will not exploit his invitation, whatever might have happened at past press conferences. Violence will get us nowhere (off the pitch anyway).
But in passing, I must take Mr Browne up on a technical point. If I learned anything from my old boxing coach, it was that putting your hands up was the only reliable way to avoid taking it on the chin. Whereas if, for some strange reason, you wanted your chin hit - say the mob had paid you to take a dive in the fifth - holding your hands down was the surest method to achieve this.
(Yes, I know there are other possible interpretations of the IRFU man's metaphor. And since my detractors are no doubt already dredging up the old embarrassment of my debut and only performance for the school rugby team, I might as well admit it myself here. Playing at full back and attempting to field a Garryowen deep in my own half, at a decisive stage of the game, I committed the cardinal sin of taking my eyes off the ball at the last moment. I had put my hands up, just as Philip Browne suggests. But the ball came through them and, sure enough, I took it on the chin. The opposition collected the rebound and ran in under the posts.)
Anyway, in the same Morning Irelandinterview, the chief executive noted that, "at the end of the day", the Irish team and management must accept that they failed "to hit the ground running" during the World Cup. Given the organisation's pugilistic approach with journalists, this implies a strange inversion in their intended tactics.
I'm not a rugby expert. But it seems to me that our lads were out-muscled in France. So rather than "hit the ground running", perhaps if the emphasis had been on the need to "run on the ground, hitting", results might have been different. At any rate, we should leave that sort of stuff out of press conferences.
Speaking of press conferences, Fabio Capello's failure to speak the local dialect during his unveiling as England soccer manager earlier this week seemed at first a stroke of genius. English football has always been something of an operatic tragedy. All it lacked, until now, were Italian lyrics that nobody in the audience could understand.
But then, of course, Capello spoiled the plot by vowing that he would be undergoing a total-immersion English course and would speak the language within a month. Which I'm sure he will. And which, in fairness, probably is required.
Urging him to learn it fast, Liverpool's Rafa Benitez gave a graphic example of the confusion that can arise with non-Anglophone managers when he recalled that, during his early months at Anfield, he used to mix up the words "win" and "wine". In a football culture that already has a drink problem, you can see the difficulty there. The possibility that Benitez has established a wining mentality at Liverpool would certainly explain their lack of consistency in the league.
It may look like Capello has set himself a big challenge with his language lessons. That's until you remember that the vocabulary of British soccer is not extensive. By the time England play again, he should be well able to express the concept that every game is a game of two halves, usually involving end-to-end stuff, and that it's never over until the final whistle.
His team will probably have been hamstrung by the old left-sided problem, but will have set its stall out accordingly, and will have bossed midfield until the lad Gerrard - who has an unbelievable engine - had to limp off (with what looks like a fracture of the fifth metatarsal) following a tackle that was a mile high and a week late. Don't get him wrong, and he's not making excuses. But to be fair, how the referee didn't see that will have been a mystery to him. And so on.
Explaining his preference for Italian at this week's press conference, Capello said - this is an actual quote - that, at the moment, his English was "not so well". If it's not so well now, it'll be sick as a parrot soon enough.