My inspirational man of the year is Marcus
EVERY December Time magazine nominates their Person of the Year and parades said individual on the front cover of their august magazine. This time round it is the South African-born multi billionaire Elon Musk, he of the Tesla car empire, ambitious Space X Project and much else besides.
They like to mix it up. Impact and news value being their main criteria, not just merit and achievement. So along with Greta Thunburg, Barack Obama, Nelson Mandela, Martin Luther King, Winston Churchill and the Queen we have also had Joseph Stalin (twice), Bill Clinton (twice, once good, once not quite so good), Richard Nixon, Donald Trump and Vladimir Putin. The sometimes-controversial Musk probably has a foot in both camps.
Meanwhile in December every year World Rugby, or the old IRB, vote for their World Player of the Year and this time round it will have taken their star-studded panel less than a nanosecond to put their x alongside the name of Antoine Dupont. The easiest decision ever, not a word of dissent.
But if The Rugby Paper were to do a Time magazine, if we were to celebrate our Rugby Person of the year, I would put Marcus Smith on our front cover.
The man who put a smile back on the face of English rugby. A timely antidote to lockdown gloom, our most reliable booster of spirits. Once you have received your regulation number of Marcus Smith doses you become immune to the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune the game is current- ly enduring. You can stride forth confidently in the sure knowledge that better times are around the corner.
Rugby life 12 months ago was unquestionably grim as the Covid grip tightened. Dreadful turgid rugby in front of groaning empty stadia in the Autumn Cup – an endless box kicking, caterpillar infested, night- mare from which there was no escape. As if lock- down itself wasn't already bad enough.
And although the Premiership fare was slightly better – Bristol gave it a lash from start to finish – all those floodlit games in ghostly echo chambers started to destroy the soul of the game.
The Prem teams, who were having to live with Covid 24/7 in their bubble, tried heroically to rise above it all and be model pros and shining lights in our darkest hour but it was very hit and miss, while the BT sport commentary team and pundits remained stoically upbeat if that is not a contradiction in terms.
Privately I know some found it the hardest challenge of their professional careers as they sat in their cold dark, empty Press gantries two metres apart from their colleagues and separated by Perspex. Sometimes they were even marooned in their sound-proof booths hundreds of miles away from BT Sport HQ – trying to convey a sense of urgency and drama.
Medals should be struck in their honour but despite their very best efforts it could still be a tough watch and although there were some decent Six Nations games this year almost none of them involved England as they limped to a miserably poor fifth in the table.
Eddie seemed to be talking gibberish more often than not and spending more time on his latest book than shaking England up and getting the recent World Cup runners-up back on track.
And then suddenly, amid all this gloom and despair, Smith and his co-conspirators at Harlequins decided to reboot the club and their league campaign after the departure of Paul Gustard by playing extraordinary Harlem Globetrotters' style rugby.
Watching Harlequins was like going to bed in the depth of an arctic winter only to be greeted by sparkling May sunshine and birdsong when you pulled the curtains back the following morning. Where the bloody hell did that come from?
It came from the fearless Smith. The fist-pumping, hair-flicking, hitch-kicking, finger-jabbing, side-stepping Smith was the catalyst for others – notably Danny Care, Alex Dombrandt and Tyrone Green took their cue from their young tyro.
Let off the leash with nothing to lose, there was both a joie de vivre and manic intensity as he set about his work. No deficit was too great to overhaul, no game was ever lost. As with the Covid vaccine some were left feeling a little heady and queasy on first acquaintance but soon picked up.
The message was clear. Give me the bloody ball and let's have some fun. Obviously it couldn't succeed long term…and yet it did. And Quins continue to purr along very nicely thank you.
It was an exhilarating, white-knuckle ride that got the juices flowing again. It re-energised English rugby at a time when the batteries were virtually drained.
Would I pick Marcus Smith in a World XV for 2021? No way. Let's not get carried away, he's not even a nailed on England first choice yet although the indications are Eddie is committed to giving him a long and meaningful trial run. As a Test player he is still work in progress and although like many I predict a huge future at elite level he needs to now consistently reproduce his magic in the heat of Six Nations rugby. That's the next hurdle to be cleared.
But would I put Marcus Smith on our fictional front cover? That too would take slightly less than a nanosecond to decide. No rugby personality or individual has made a bigger impact to 2021. For which we give thanks.
