TV VIEW:THE 38-year history of the BBC's A Question of Sport has been built on the opposite natures of its captains. So it was at the beginning with the wildly lyrical Cliff Morgan pitted against the more stolid virtues of "Our 'Enry" Cooper. And since it worked, no one was fool enough to fiddle with the formula, writes Brian O'Connor
Would Emlyn "Em-Em-Em" Hughes and his crazy horse antics have been so indulged were it not for the fact that he had Bill Beaumont's second-row solidity just a few feet away? How annoying would Willie Carson's insane cackling have become were it not for Beaumont's furrowed understatement? Could "Beefy" Botham's aggressive will to win have looked just plain boorish if, well, you know who, wasn't the opposite captain? There are more recent examples. Ally McCoist's relentless chirpiness for instance could always be reliably evened out by John Parrott's boredom. With the entertainment factor of the guests always likely to fluctuate dramatically it is vitally important that the captaincy roles are well defined.
When it works properly sparks can fly. Who will ever forget Emlyn mistaking Princess Anne for the jockey John Reid on the picture puzzle board and then having to sit next to her madge the following week? Or when Shane Warne steadfastly maintained that the picture in front of him was of Serena Williams, and not Roger Federer? All of which brings us to the current regime of Matt Dawson and Phil Tufnell sitting either side of Sue Barker.
On Friday night Dawson was joined by Steve Cram and Alec Stewart while Pat Cash and Dion Dublin were on Tufnell's team. From the start it was obvious this was not the sort of sparkling line-up guaranteed to set the studio drapes on fire.
The Cram/Stewart duo were clad in the sort of pullovers that looked like they had been picked out by their mothers. Cash might retain some of the edge that set so many young female hearts aflutter in the 1980s but unfortunately he also retains an ear-ring which swings low from a lobe that could belong to a Masai tribesman.
Dublin's main claim to public interest these days are tales of a famously elephantine flexible friend whose eye-watering proportions probably accounts for Dion's disinterest in the pursuit of attention. So this was a case of captains to the front, which is when the fault line in the current A Question Of Sport edifice started to rumble.
One can see why the Beeb thought they might click. After all Tuffers and his "aren't I a cheeky blighter" schtick is a long way from Dawson's rugger bugger, strictly sparkly dancing, aren't I comfortable with myself persona. The problem is you wouldn't follow either of them over the top of the Playboy Mansion wall.
Even Billy Beaumont at his somnolent was a dozily likeable character. But Bill was a lumbering secondrower. Dawson is a fizzy terrier of a scrumhalf whose perpendicular eared appetite for attention is downright unsettling.
He also can't pronounce Pádraig Harrington's name - "Pah-Rig" - which wouldn't be a problem except there are African tribes thousands of miles from a bunker who've heard of Harrington by now.
Tufnell's mangling of the English language seems to be almost deliberate since it fits in with the constant gurning that the former England bowler believes passes for comedy. After a while the "cor, aren't I an idiot" posture just wears too thin. Charisma is a tricky thing anyway but all the gurning and manically fixed grins of A Question Of Sport only emphasises how people either have it or don't.
In contrast Saturday night's Legends Of Cricket series on ESPN Classic featured a man who oozes the stuff.
Viv Richards was watchable even when standing in the out-field waiting for Geoff Boycott to get adventurous.
"He appeared regal at the crease but away from it was shy and reserved," said the voice-over introduction in a credibility boost that Matt Dawson would probably give his World Cup winners medal for.
"I never saw any other batsman with that kind of swagger," Tony Cozier added before another contributor described Richards's famously muscular stride to the crease as looking like a man carrying tennis balls under his arm.
It's not all about size though. RTÉ's Premier Soccer Saturday witnessed a discussion about Arsenal's 2-1 defeat away to Stoke when a combination of ferocious tackling and Rory Delap's throw-ins unsettled the north London stylists. So much so that Robin van Persie was reduced to a petulant lash-out at the Stoke goalkeeper that got him sent off. Afterwards Arsene Wenger grumbled about the protection given to his players.
"It's nonsense to say players have to be protected," ventured John Giles with the sort of steely stare that once used to send shivers up the spine of every Leeds opponent. "If you go to Stoke, you know what you're going to get, and you protect yourself."
Giles is no physical giant but his ability to get retaliation in first on the football field was legendary. Over 30 years after hanging up his boots, there was a glimpse of that notorious hardness again in his disdain of those not willing to do the ugly stuff.
It was instructive and eloquent and hugely watchable.
