Читать книгу Botham’s Century: My 100 great cricketing characters - Ian Botham, Ian Botham - Страница 11

I regard Bill Beaumont as the best ambassador for British sport there has ever been. After his distinguished rugby career as captain of England and the British Lions, Bill has continued to give of his time and considerable experience to rugby as it struggled with professionalism.

The name of Beaumont is linked with mine because we spent eight years in opposition as the team captains in A Question of Sport with David Coleman in the chair trying to keep order, but our first memorable evening was years earlier, on the night that Bill led England to their first Grand Slam for 23 years at Murrayfield.

I was in the company of my father-in-law, Gerry a big rugby nut, and Tony Bond, the England centre who had broken his leg at the start of the Five Nations against Ireland. He was still on crutches. In the lobby of the team hotel, the North British, Bill saw us and invited us into the official reception for a drink. Standing around with some of the England players, chatting and enjoying a glass, we were pounced upon by some Scottish MacJobsworth and told that I had to leave. I explained I was not a gatecrasher; Bondie had been a member of the England squad until his injury, and we had been asked in by the victorious England captain and coach, Mike Davis, so I thought that would be the end of the matter. Not with this Rob Roy.

‘We are paying for this function, and we’ll decide who comes in. You are not wanted, out you go.’

‘Well, if you paid for this gin and tonic, you’d better have it back,’ I replied and I promptly tipped it over his head.

The trio of us were frog-marched out, closely followed by most of the England squad, who decided to join us. That’s why the England captain spent most of the evening sitting on the stairs outside the Scottish Rugby Union reception. Every so often, one of the players would come out with a tray of drinks to keep us going. It was the start of a very memorable evening.

Bill was forced to retire from the game a couple of years later after being told that another kick on the head could have serious consequences. His England career finished at Murrayfield, but his last appearance at Twickenham saw that famous half-time streak from the well-endowed Erica Roe. Bill had his back to the action and couldn’t understand why his emotional team-talk was not being received with the same intense concentration as usual, until his scrum-half, Steve Smith, explained: ‘Sorry Bill, but some bird has just run on wearing your bum on her chest!’

Bill and I enjoyed a tremendous rivalry during our time on A Question of Sport. Bill is as competitive as me, and his sporting knowledge is extensive. His three specialist subjects were cricket, rugby and motor racing – he loved showing up my weakness on the cricket questions. But on golf, or soccer, he didn’t have a weakness. He was hard to beat. I’m glad that we both decided to call it a day together after eight years. I couldn’t have imagined doing the show without him.

Despite his good nature, Bill was not beyond some skullduggery. I remember the night when Gazza (Paul Gascoigne) was on the show. He wasn’t supposed to be drinking, but was getting fed up with the taste of bitter lemon and tonic water. As Gazza was going to be a member of Bill’s team, when he asked if there was anything else non-alcoholic he could try, I suggested advocaat. I knew the taste would disguise the alcohol and its effects were slow-acting. Gazza promptly drank a bottle and half in about an hour and half before the show. Imagine my horror when I discovered that Bill had worked out what was going on and I found myself with Gazza on my team. We lost, and the show took twice as long as normal to record.

One of the funniest holidays Kath and I ever had was with Bill and his wife, Hilary, when we went to Courcheval in the Alps to learn to ski. Because of the insurance, I was never allowed to ski when I was playing. Can you imagine Beaumont and Botham on the nursery slopes? Even trying to get our skis on took half a morning and nearly caused an avalanche. We had these all-in-one ski suits and as we came down the nursery slopes rather sedately, all these little kids, some aged about three, were shooting past, weaving in and out, and cutting across us, regularly causing us to fall apex over tit. After a couple of days of this, Bill had had enough and was looking for an opportunity to spear someone with his ski stick. The trouble was that every time he made that sort of move, over he went. I’ve never spent so much time on my backside.

Lunch on the third day was the turning point. After a couple of bottles of Dutch courage, Bill and I decided to leave the nursery slopes and graduate to something a little more testing. We felt reasonably confident as we’d just about learnt to keep upright in a straight line. It hadn’t occurred to us that stopping was another crucial skill that didn’t come naturally. We both realized our predicament at about the same time … I can tell you that Beaumont and Botham out of control on the pistes is not a pretty sight.