Geoffrey Boycott was convicted of domestic assault, so why has May knighted him?

Geoffrey Boycott has always represented Theresa May’s idealised version of herself, and in that sense it is no surprise that the former prime minister has given him a knighthood in her resignation honours. She can see the hero where others can’t, and if only people could look past the social awkwardness, and the thinly disguised selfishness, and the various nasty businesses, then they would surely realise what heroic qualities truly are.

Indeed, perhaps this knighthood foreshadows how someone who has herself exhibited these characteristics in her own career could go on to a highly successful second act in the political commentary box, or on the board of one of the better arms firms. Perhaps in retirement, that someone too will become the effervescent opposite of her playing self. Or perhaps she will grind out the rest of her remorseless innings pointing at potholes for the local constituency paper, as Mrs May was doing this week.

Anyway, a recap of the facts: in 1998, Boycott was convicted by a French court of assaulting his then-girlfriend, a verdict off which he continues to smash soundbites with outrageous abandon. Those who regard no morning as complete if they haven’t lost their shit with Radio 4’s Today programme were certainly given what they wanted on Tuesday, as Boycott was interviewed on the news of his knighthood. “I don’t give a toss about her, love,” was his retort to Martha Kearney’s mention that the chief executive of Woman’s Aid had called his knighthood “extremely disappointing”.

Nor is there any shortage of “colourful background” on Boycott’s position on the honours system. Boycott felt his earlier gong, an MBE, had been devalued by those given to the 2005 Ashes-winning side, who went on to a 5-0 series whitewash in Australia two years later. “People like me played 100 Test matches to get one, and [scored] 8,000 [runs],” he fretted at the time. “I didn’t play five Test matches and get one. I feel so bad about mine I’m going to tie it round my cat. It doesn’t mean anything any more. It’s a joke.” Yet Boycott felt the prospect of upgrading his cat jewellery was slim. A couple of years ago, he claimed further honours for him had been “turned down twice”, adding that “I’d better black my face”. West Indians, he thought, received them “like confetti”.

So as every reader of the sports pages already knows, this is what you’re dealing with. You always were. Apart from Boycott’s forthcoming acquisition of an honour that ghastly businessmen mostly pay for, nothing – to coin a phrase – has changed. Those who don’t trouble themselves with sport seem to be waking up not just to the news that Boycott has received a knighthood, but that he works for the BBC. Even so, it is not 2005 again.

His domestic violence conviction is a longstanding matter of record, and frequently written about by many of us. I see I most recently mentioned it at the end of June. But he didn’t honour himself. Of much more immediate concern, then, must be the person who decided to do so, despite the above. We know all about Geoffrey Boycott. What does this knighthood tell us about Theresa May?

We certainly know May continued to adore her childhood cricketing hero, even after his conviction, as did many who found themselves disappointed by, say, the plodding commentary of Ian Botham. But even accounting for this, to knight him is something different.

Plenty of people couldn’t believe the domestic violence of Boycs. Was Theresa May one of those? She wouldn’t have been alone. Sports writer Ian Wooldridge described Boycott’s assault charge as “a hiccup in his personal life”, adding that he would “be happy to appear as a character witness on his behalf in a court case still hanging over his head in France”. It is at least difficult to imagine a column like that being written nowadays (even if the current parliamentary sketchwriter of the Times does appear to think his job is to be character witness for the prime minister). Yet if May didn’t accept the conviction, it is remarkable. She was not otherwise famously soft on law and order, nor given to believing the best of people.

Or did May believe it but not mind? Again, this would not be of a piece with the May worldview, where redemption and second chances were not in ready supply.

Perhaps the most realistic verdict is that she preferred not to think about it, just as she seems to have preferred not to think about the impact of her own egregious acts.

Many of us turn a blind eye to certain aspects of our heroes; May’s ability to overlook such a monumental one as far as Boycott was concerned suggests a deep personal need to do so. Here was a man regarded as socially inept, never mixing with his teammates during his playing years, or his commentary box colleagues thereafter. Here was a man whose guiding principle was a uniquely selfish form of caution allied to a warped yet clearly intense idea of public service. Here was a man who for many was completely unwatchable, and who for all his glaring character flaws never appeared capable of reflection. Here was a man whose brief England captaincy ended in failure and humiliation.

Yet here was a man who, despite enduring the slings and arrows of opponents and teammates alike, will nonetheless be regarded as an all-time great, and who will – especially now – regard himself as having won. Looked at like that, the question is not “how could Theresa May knight Geoffrey Boycott?” – but “how could she not?”