Sport Editorials

In September 1988, Adrian Moorhouse stood waiting for the start of the 200 meters breaststroke final.  British number one since 1981, he had won European and World Championships but never an Olympic medal, having come fourth in Los Angeles in 1984.

A pulsating race ensued, with Moorhouse turning at the 50 meter mark in sixth place, before closing in on his competitor swimmers in the final five meters.  In an extraordinary finish, he claimed the gold medal by one hundredth of a second from the Hungarian Károly Güttler.

As he stood on the approach to the final, decisive hole in this year's Desert Classic golf tournament in Dubai, South African Ernie Els held his breath. Ahead of him was an imposing grandstand, packed with thousands of fans, forming a magnificent semi-circle around the opulent green. Beyond that rose the giant towers of the Kingdom, symbols of its recent emergence as a global centre of business and tourism.

For those old enough to remember, golf used to be a game played by gentlemen: Woods reminds them that the best qualities of respect and courtesy have not altogether disappeared from the game.

Klammer hit the accelerator and began spinning the car up the icy road, veering it in a wide slalom, using the turns to cut into the surface. A few minutes later we saw the headlights appear through the sheets of snow. He came level with us and whipped the car around in a perfect 180 degree spin, coming to a halt next to us. This guy has a feeling for snow, I thought. He really knows snow.

As we hurtled along the narrow St. John roads in our open-sided taxi truck, two scantily-clad women emerged from the undergrowth, breathing heavily and glistening with sweat. Naturally, as good courteous Englishmen we stopped to offer them a lift - and they accepted. The Roger Moore in me began reaching for the hilarious punning chat-up line. But something about the way they smiled at one another and held hands told me that a scruffy Englishman making corny comments wouldn't exactly light their fires.

No sooner had we surfaced from a quite staggering dive - huge manta and eagle rays flying in formation above and below us, reef sharks looming out of the big blue and the best coral in North Male Atol - than the weather hit. First it was a black cloud the size of Egypt that came tearing towards us from the West, shedding its curtains of rain like an arrested coke dealer in a hurry. Then it was the wind that whipped off the choppy waves and rocked our boat sideways, sending loose crockery for six. Excellent!

One player is 64. Others are getting on for 20 stone. But Lawrie McMenemy out-thinks the opposition and inspires optimism. We can score, we can win, even if they're Beckenbaur and we're Perry Groves.