E. John Following on (2016), 122
A digital form of the sadly lost fashion for copying out memorable passages from texts. I kept losing my actual book.
Showing posts with label Angus Fraser. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Angus Fraser. Show all posts
Wednesday, 12 May 2021
'I’d trust them.’ And I knew that was the highest compliment Russell could give
Maybe it’s my old-fashioned fondness for an increasingly archaic notion of duty and commitment that make it so important to me. Perhaps I’ve a yen for the days when leaders inspired not through their ability to turn computer algorithms into billions of dollars of stock options, but because of their physical and mental courage in the face of danger and adversity. That’s why I love a sport that can make a virtue of mulishness, and find glory in a five-day draw. My encounter with Russell had shown me that the brand of loyalty I’ve always idolised doesn’t live on only in the pages of fiction, or Hollywood bromances. It’s not just something that a fan projects, hopefully, on to her sporting heroes – it can be as real as her imaginings. It endures, too. Russell told me how, even now, ‘If Athers asked for help to do something, you do it, because you’ve got a bond. Because even though we didn’t win a lot, we had some special moments, and we’ve been through something together.’ And then he paused. ‘Now I come to think about it . . . I ain’t got any friends, really. Not friend friends. I’m quite singular. Remote. But when you talk of Athers and Angus and Stewie and those guys . . . I’d trust them.’ And I knew that was the highest compliment Russell could give.
Tuesday, 11 May 2021
Jack Russell's passion for painting was actually considered the least strange thing about him by his teammates
His [Jack Russell's] passion for painting was actually considered the least strange thing about him by his teammates, who witnessed his compulsive and fastidious behaviour towards his food, his clothes, his gear and much else. He once ate steak and chips every night for a month, and he wore the same batting shirt for eight years. ‘I’m not so bad now,’ Russell says. ‘It was just how I dealt with the pressure – I like repetition. I used to have underpants with dots on – one dot for the first session, two dots for the second session. I’d have them washed and dry to wear the next day.’ It must have been exhausting doing all that laundry on top of your regular job, I say. ‘That’s why rooming with me was a nightmare. In between games I was washing stuff in the bathroom sink, then I’d be hanging it over lightshades to dry it off.’ Although that was only the half of it – Russell would tape up his wet paintings, too. ‘I think Angus Fraser still gets headaches from the paint fumes. In Cape Town Neil Fairbrother was actually sick out of the window.’
E. John, Following on (2016), 105
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