October 23, 2011
MERVYN (PROC) THOMPSON ON RUGBY AND THE ARTS
Some readers may wonder why I have devoted so much space to rugby; my playing career was, after all, rather unremarkable. The answer is simple. Too many people in the theatre world – and the arts generally – are totally snobbish about sport. Alienated from the land they live in and in many cases looking rather wistfully towards old Europe, they never tire of telling anyone who will listen how much they despise ‘Kiwi philistines’ and their ‘common’ pursuits. Eyes clouded by distant cultural mists, they fail to see beyond the stereotypes of rugby, racing, beer and plaster gnomes. Scornfully they exclaim, ‘What? Me take an interest in that muddy-oaf barbarism? You must be joking!’ This lack of interest in sport is, of course, evidence of virtue, and we are meant to admire them for their superior sensibilities.
No doubt in many cases this attitude is simply a reaction to the unfair treatment they received at school the moment they evinced an interest in the arts. And of course our society is viciously addicted to the habit of glorifying sporting heroes while insulting or ignoring its artists. What I cannot stand, however, is the superior tone of some members of the anti-sport lobby. With their superior sensibilities you’d think they’d know better.
Let it therefore be recorded that neither in practice nor in contemplation are the arts incompatible with sport; they simply draw on different aspects of the human totality. I cannot turn my back on moments of exhilaration and even an epiphany or two. It was primary experience and it would be dishonest to deny it.
When I watch a Sid Going, a Grant Batty, or a Bruce Robertson on the rugby field I find myself in the presence of the same explosive energy, the same drive to excel, and the same dedication to a craft that I see in the best artists. What is more, these players ‘see’ better than others on the field, ‘reading’ the game with something akin to an artist’s ‘vision’. Robertson, in particular, with his grace, swiftness of foot and mind, and imaginative flair, is the nearest thing to an artist I have seen in rugby. (What is more, he has attained the same heroic status in the eyes of many New Zealanders as Ken Gray and Bob Burgess did earlier. It takes guts to refuse a free tour.)
– Mervyn Thompson, All My Lives, Whitcoulls Publishers, 1980, pp 50-51.
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