Here is the long and convoluted story of my love affair with Ryan Giggs.
Since the age of ~4, I have admired Ryan Giggs. In the early 90s, he was a remarkable football player. He was young, extremely talented and a very entertaining football player. In these respects, he was something of an ideal for a young football fan, particularly one of Manchester United persuasions, like myself. (His middle name is also Joseph, and this gave me a peculiar sense of price at around 4/5 years old).
Throughout the coming years, football stars came and went. Many, like the Beckhams and Owens of the world sought and courted fame, and revelled in the benefits which arose from this. All the while, Ryan Giggs, a remarkably skilful individual quietly went about his business. He picked up trophies, displayed an admirable respect for the game and his fellow players and captivated his followers, though at the same time largely avoiding the enticement of the press.
This attitude: practising hard, maintaining a healthy lifestyle (abstaining from alcohol, keeping his fitness to an extraordinary level, and yoga, as his recent yoga dvd testifies to) and avoiding the glamour/razzle-dazzle/tabloids/etc. continued for many years. One obvious example of his avoidance of the limelight is his refusal to sell photo-rights to his wedding in 2007 (despite bids from all sorts of papers), instead opting for a quiet ceremony only surrounded by close friends and family.
Here is Giggs scoring possibly my favourite goal ever, in a semi-final against Arsenal, who were notorious for having the best defense in the country at the time. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=quI_LkMj4HI
By 2009, he was comfortably the most successful player in domestic British football history (though playing for Wales never enabled him to qualify for major international competition). He had an absurd amount of Premier League titles, several FA Cup medals (the longest-running competition in football), several League Cups, two coveted Champions League medals and world-club football titles. That year (2009) he also managed, despite the age of 35 (a veteran age by the standards of contemporary football) to be awarded the PFA player of the year award, a prize given to the best player of the year in the Premier League and nominated for by players in that league.
Giggs was also prolific in charity work (though, characteristically not flaunting this fact). He campaigned vigorously with UNICEF with landmines, and in 2009 his brief summer spell in Sierra Leone (the hometown of his grandfather) precipitated an increase in AIDS awareness of 9%. These are undoubtedly stunning achievements. Regardless of anything that followed these deserve applause and appreciation.
As a result of all these things, I had come to see Ryan Giggs as something of a hero. For most of my life he had been quietly and respectfully going about his business of entertaining the masses, and doing so without greed or ambition (he was never engaged in long contract negotiations and never courted other big European clubs for higher wages). I loved him. He carried himself with a quiet respectability. As such, in September 2009, after a discussion with a like-minded friend, I decided that Ryan Giggs should be recognised for his achievements. How so? BBC Sports Personality of the Year.
Aside: BBC Sports Personality of the Year is a TV show the BBC run every year. The entire sporting year is celebrated, with achievements, particularly those by British competitors, highlighted and enjoyed. It can be fairly tacky, but it is overall – in my opinion – a great institution. It frees us from a cynical take on everything, as we are so often accustomed to and actually celebrates achievements (something us Brits are often bad at doing). There are several awards, mainly made by a panel of experts – Team of the Year, Overseas Personality of the Year, Young Sportsperson of the Year, Coach of the Year, etc. The main event, however, is the Sports Personality of the Year. Nominations for this are made by newspapers across the country, and the ten most frequently named nominees are put forward on the night for a national telephone vote. The winner takes the crown.
Here is where I (sorta) enter the story. As part of this goal – making Ryan Giggs, my hero, Sports Personality of the Year – I set up a Facebook group. In addition, I emailed several of the newspapers whose editors would be submitting shortlists for the award, with a well thought out explication why Ryan Giggs should be nominated for the award. This included his masses of trophies, awards, his loyalty, on-the-pitch conduct, charity work and off-the-pitch attitude.
(I asked my Dad – a sports journalist for the Daily Telegraph – at about this point, about the award ceremony and the procedure, and if there was any chance Giggs could win. His response: “no chance”. He thought Button or Strauss would get it…)
Shortly after sending out these emails, I sought to bet on Ryan Giggs winning the award, being the eternal optimist (deep inside). Ladbrokes suspended betting fairly quickly afterwards. Coral (another major UK bookmaker) however, hadn’t even put Giggs on there shortlist, which had 20-30 people on. I sent them an email, requesting that he be added. Subsequently, they added him to their list at 40/1. As soon as that happened, I placed £25 on him winning. The bookies, including Coral, seemed to be acting on the belief that Giggs would not be shortlisted, so wouldn’t stand a chance of winning. However, when the shortlist came out (at the start of December, I think – I remember watching the particular episode of The One Show when it was announced), Giggs was named. Instantly, the odds on the Coral website plummeted to 15/1.
At this point, I put a little more money on, all the while betting on Betfair (my preferred gambling website) a little. I continued until the evening of the show fairly regularly. I also continued my Facebook campaign and recruiting wherever I could. By award night, my Facebook group had over 3,000 members. I remember being disappointed by the presentation the BBC gave of Ryan. His charity work wasn’t mentioned at all, and I had a suspicion that the BBC would rather the award went to Jenson Button (winner of the Formula One Championships that year, – which was shown live on BBC). But I was still optimistic. When the lines closed (I’d been betting on and laying off all night), I stood to win £1365 if Giggs won, and win £40 even if he didn’t. But he won. It was amazing. I remember it being announced. I was almost in tears (partly because I’d won what is to my pocket an obscene amount of cash, but also because my childhood hero, someone I’d borderline worshipped for the best part of two decades, had been recognised for what he deserved).
There it was. My hero had won an award. I had (possibly) helped out in this happening. I’d even won a tidy sum of money in the process. Great, right?
Time has a way of tainting even the most precious of memories. This is one such case.
When you have a hero, they have a very tough job. They, in order to remain in this position, must conduct themselves well in every accessible way. All their actions must be good, acceptable, heroic. They can do wrong, or rather, they must not do wrong. It’s a hard job, being a hero. I don’t recommend it. I imagine most fail. Ryan is one of those.
During the last six months, rumours emerged of a footballer engaging in extramarital affairs with some sort of TV star, by the name of Imogen Thomas. What’s new, right? Only it was also known that the footballer in question was going to extreme lengths to keep this affair under-wraps. Injunctions, super-injunctions, hyper-injunctions, and any other absurd legal methods of binding the release of information that you could possible imagine had been enacted. Despite such measures, before too long, the rumours of a specific footballer came out. Ryan Giggs.
The rumours slowly became more and more acknowledged. By the end of the last football season, entire crowds during Premiership football were chanting his name, spreading the news of his antics playing away from home, as it were. Shortly after this, an MP, using ‘parliamentary privilege’ explicitly mentioned Ryan Giggs’ name (fairly gratuitously, it should be noted) while discussing privacy laws and the absurd legal mumbo-jumbo that seemed to be occurring. It was out.
I had heard this weeks before it came out properly, due to my journalist father, though I was somewhat in denial. What ensued was most upsetting. Ryan Giggs, presumably annoyed at this shaming spotlight, tried to sue newspapers, individuals and even Twitter (I’m not sure of the situation/results in any of these cases, nor do I particularly care to find out). Manchester United still won the league, and Giggs still played well. Man United rounded off the season losing 3-1 to Barcelona in the Champions League Final.
Rumours of further affairs have since risen to the surface. More and more scandals have followed Giggs, my former hero, ever since.
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Wanted: HERO
Desirable: candidates should be likeable, prone to make me smile frequently.
Essential: admirable, a genius in some area of expertise, not going to fall short of ideals (including infidelity) in 20 years time.
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So, that’s it. My hero, the man I loved for 20 years, no more. He was my most prominent role model, my idol. No more. Great footballer? Certainly. Admirable ambassador for several charities? Definitely.
Hero? No more.
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