Unsung: Not All Heroes Wear Kits
In his new book, Alexis James goes behind the scenes of professional sport, looking beyond the headlines to introduce and celebrate sport’s hidden stars.
This book excerpt is the introduction to Unsung, published by Pitch Publishing and available to buy here.
INTRODUCTION
The seed for this book was planted in 2018 in the spectacular leafy surrounds of Le Golf National, Paris. It was day two of the Ryder Cup and I was nursing a rotten hangover in the freezing 5am queues. As the sun began to peep over the green hills and golden dunes of the Albatross course, a distant hum caught my attention. A battalion of greenkeepers driving ride-on mowers was plotting a path to the imposing grandstand nicknamed ‘Le Monstre’. Clipped to each vehicle was the blue flag of Europe, fluttering in the morning breeze. It was a rousing sight. And for us lucky, bleary-eyed attendees it was a sign that the Ryder Cup had begun. But for those two dozen ground staff, alive and alert, it had started many years ago.
Before I arrived in France, I had written about these guardians of the fairway. I had interviewed Ryder Cup course superintendents past and present, including Steve Chappell. He was in charge at Gleneagles in 2014, and he told me the story behind one of its most memorable moments.
On the final day, Europe’s Justin Rose had skewed left off the tee and into the gorse on the 13th hole. Watching on, Chappell couldn’t believe it. Months prior, he had intended to remove those very bushes. But he was prevented from doing so by European captain Paul McGinley. The skipper had reasoned that, at over 300 yards from the tee, it was more likely to be the big-hitting Americans who would be caught in the trap.
Instead, it was Rose who had been swatted. His American opponent Hunter Mahan sensed a chance to increase his lead and halt the surging Europeans. But while McGinley hadn’t expected his guys to be in the shrub, he had been meticulous enough to note the yardage during his pre-tournament recces. With his captain’s insight to hand, Rose did the rest. His recovery to within a foot of the pin became one of the defining moments of the tournament.
A birdie clawed back Mahan’s lead and, with Europe 10–6 ahead, extinguished any faint American hopes. Rose smiled at the camera and quipped, ‘There’s a bit of Seve for you.’ He was right, it was a shot that the great Ballesteros himself would have been delighted with. The Scottish crowd cheered. The commentators gushed. And one relieved superintendent had experienced that moment like no other fan on the planet.
So as I watched the sprightly troop of greenkeepers fizz their way around lush Parisian lawns, I felt their pride. Admittedly, the Latin Quarter mojitos may have had a lingering effect on my sensibilities. But I also appreciated the years of toil that went towards laying the foundations on which golf’s greats could showcase their brilliance.
Throughout sport, there are hundreds of decisions made and actions taken by peripheral figures just like Steve Chappell. They help shape the moments that become TV montages, history-book chapters, and lifelong memories. It is their stories that I intend to tell over the following 12 chapters.
The number feels apt. In football, the 12th man is a term that describes a crowd whose commitment has compelled their team to victory. In cricket, the 12th man is the poor sap who hasn’t quite made the field but could be needed at any moment. Many of those featured in these pages will relate to both descriptions. Some of the roles go way back in history. Some are recent creations born of sport’s increasing professionalism. All are now indispensable.
Although they often occupy the same room, track, or pitch as the biggest names in sport, the characters described here are more relatable. They look like us, live like us, and have flaws like us. They are not the media-savvy operators that modern sportspeople are. With some understandable exceptions, they are unguarded, honest, and thrilled to be able to share the tales they rarely get to tell.
Although this began as a 2020 lockdown project, I didn’t want the pandemic to dominate every word. It is something we have all lived through but it will not define us. Nonetheless, there are chapters where Covid-19’s unwelcome spectre is unavoidable. Several I spoke to even played an integral part in sport’s resilient fightback.
Restrictions prevented me from personally visiting all of those featured, though I am grateful to the many who did welcome me to their homes and places of work when permitted. To those I only met over Zoom, I sincerely hope that I have managed to do your story justice.
And to the reader, I also hope that I have been able to relay the pride that these people take in their work and the ways in which they are integral to their sport. If so, then maybe the next time you attend or watch a sporting event, you’ll have a hair-raising moment like the one I experienced in Paris. Only without the cold sweats.
You’ll look beyond the headlines and behind the athletes. For there is where you’ll see the people who power them. For every Lewis Hamilton there is a pit mechanic priming his car. For every Emma Raducanu there is a performance chef fuelling her goals. For every Harry Kane there are ground staff perfecting his stage. And for every Usain Bolt there is an athletics starter launching his first steps to greatness.
While its biggest stars and household names enjoy the glory, tucked away amid sport’s small print and voiceless under its fanfare is a band of unsung heroes rarely acknowledged, let alone championed. Too often these tireless facilitators and hidden organisers are only noticed when they make an error. The feats are reserved for the athletes, while those behind the scenes are only ever attributed to the disasters. This book is a humble attempt to change that.
Alexis James, April 2022