Three amigos ride into Gibberish at OK Corral
SPORT is the safe space of Irish politics. It is where politicians can feel secure against the responsibilities their positions usually place upon them. As far as they are concerned, sport is harmless at worst. At best, it is a sphere that offers handy headlines, cheap photo opportunities and the chance to bloviate. In an environment consumed by overcrowded hospitals, industrial crises, Northern political flux and the perils presented by Brexit, sport is a place of political safe harbour.
Hustle the funding, cut the ribbon and say cheese.
Beyond those essentials, it isn’t taxing. It has long been the way in this country, but there is a logical outcome for a political culture that treats sport as a hobby rather than a policy.
That is why the appearance of Paraic Duffy, John Delaney and Philip Browne before the Joint Committee on Transport, Tourism and Sport last Wednesday, while shambolic, was not one bit surprising. What other way could it be? One committee member, Deputy Peter Fitzpatrick, mentioned homelessness and obesity in a sentence before finishing that sentiment by saying sport was a great topic of conversation.
Gibberish of that order was not exceptional. Deputy Kevin O’Keeffe, in a hearing titled Sport in Ireland: Challenges, Strategies and Governance, thought this was the time to ask John Delaney, while leaning back with a grin, if he agreed with the planned expansion of the World Cup to 48 teams. Delaney smiled at that one. Watching events dodder between foostering and fawning, some of the poor devils condemned to sit through it and report on it were moved to admit their fears for Irish democracy.
If it was no advertisement for elected representatives – and good Lord, it wasn’t – it was a more telling capture of the union between politics and sport here.
The Department of Sport includes two ministers whose relationship was recently described as toxic. Shane Ross, an attention seeker who made a fool of himself at the Olympics, slapped down Patrick O’Donovan after junior made a play for soft headlines last month with talk of funding cuts if the sports’ bodies didn’t adhere to a gender quota they were just being told about.
There is the issue, too, of the State committing millions to fund grants to inter-county GAA players, despite the fortunes being made by their association. This agreement is, and always has been, unjustifiable on practical and moral grounds, yet it was announced at a press conference at the end of last year where the Taoiseach joined Ross in gurning for the cameras.
The power of the GAA explains why there is not more criticism of it, but it is wrong.
The agreement, though, tells us a lot about politics and sport in Ireland. There was no debate about whether the Government should commit millions to sportsmen who enjoy high profiles and the educational, employment and sponsorship advantages that attend their status.
There was no consideration of whether money in an economy poised at a fragile point between recession and the complexities of Brexit should go to sport, and in that particular manner.
The same point applies to the tax relief scheme for professional sportspeople in Ireland (and which has been used as leverage in getting the GAA player grants deal). It has been credited with keeping the best rugby players within the Irish system, but after years in place it should be reviewed.
Introduced by Finance minister Charlie McCreevy in 2002, it remained in place even through harrowing austerity, but at the very least it is worth discussing as part of a wider consideration of State money and sport.
And that is the most relevant detail about the point of intersection between politics and sport: money. Politicians use money to secure good news in sport. Wangling funding for a local project is one of the great thrills of a TD’s existence, followed a year or two later by the photograph taken outside the freshly completed development, with the deputy surrounded by adoring rubberneckers while the plaque commemorating his service to the locality shines in the foreground.
This system militates against structured investment in sport, from capital investment in facilities to funding individual ambition.
In Britain, UK Sport will spend £345 million on athletes in the four years up to the Tokyo games.
Two thirds of the funding for UK Sport comes from the National Lottery. The lottery in this country, 30 years old in March, is supposed to prioritise funding on sport, as well as arts and culture. But there is no fenced-off fund devoted to sport.
Instead, lottery money is absorbed into Government accounts and then redistributed according to the whims of Ministers and the prevailing budgetary climate.
It is no wonder, then, that the relationship between sport and politics is dysfunctional. That was made public in excruciating detail four days ago. Embarrassing as that Oireachtas committee was to watch, it could be no other way. Sport is not treated seriously in Irish politics. The results are not pleasant to behold.