Last night on television Michael Hogan What happened next? Not a lot – all hail the glory days
Watching clips of old episodes on A Question of Sport at 50 (BBC One) propelled me straight back to boyhood. Suddenly I was lying on the lounge carpet in front of a teak Grundig set, warmed by the gas fire, hoping a question about my football team would come up (Ipswich Town, in case you’re interested). When that catchy computerised theme music sounded, it was time for bed.
Footballer Emlyn Hughes and rugby player Bill Beaumont were team captains then. They might have worn similar knitwear (V-necked, pastel shades, very Alan Partridge) but the pair were contrasting characters. Beaumont was a gentle bear of a man, quietly knowledgeable as he chewed his pencil. Hughes was the class clown, arms always around his team-mates, with a daft grin.
It was he who provided the show’s most memorable moment, wrongly identifying a photograph of a Princess Anne as Northern Irish jockey John Reid. “Don’t put that out,” Hughes pleaded. “They’ll hang me.”
Mischievous producers booked the Princess Royal to appear on the 200th episode, a mere fortnight later, and sat her next to the sheepish Hughes. He tried folding his arms to stop himself instinctively hugging her but failed. Her Royal Highness took it all in excellent humour and gave as good as she got (even threatening to whack Hughes with her handbag), with her historic appearance attracting a huge audience of 19million viewers.
For a couple of series, jockey Willie Carson took over from Hughes, forming an amusing little-and-large contrast with 6ft 3in, 17-stone Beaumont. Like Hughes, Carson was a giggler, elbowing his team-mates excitedly when he knew the answer in rounds such as Mystery Guest, Picture Board, What Happened Next? and Home or Away.
It’s an indication of what an institution the programme has become – it’s the world’s longest-running TV sports quiz and the longest continuously running quiz on British TV – that each presenter and pair of captains is evocative of a certain era.
When the show launched in 1970, snooker specialist David Vine was question-master, with Henry “Our ’Enry” Cooper and Cliff Morgan as captains, while players often puffed away on cigarettes or sucked thoughtfully on pipes.
These were followed by Fred Trueman, Bernard Foster and Gareth Edwards, all luxuriant of sideburn, before “my era” in the Eighties. Thereafter, it was Ian “Beefy” Botham (mullet, moustache and blokey banter), John Parrott (Scouse wag), Ally Mccoist (cheeky charmer) and Frankie Dettori (comedy foreigner), right through to current incumbents Matt Dawson and Phil Tufnell, who have both served for more than a decade.
In the host’s chair, remarkably, only three posteriors have ever perched. When Vine was seconded to Ski Sunday, which aired at the same time as A Question of Sport was filmed, he handed over to another David, the revered Mr Coleman, who stayed for 18 years. Current presenter Sue Barker has exceeded him with a remarkable 22 years. The job is clearly so much fun that nobody wants to leave.
This film celebrated the show’s half-century and provided a rush of nostalgia for any sports fan who has shouted answers at the screen. Sadly, it failed to offer much more.
An impressive roster of greats popped up to pay tribute but, let’s face it, sporty types aren’t always the most thrilling raconteurs. They were also wearyingly repetitive. We heard time and again how an invitation to appear is a sign that you’ve made it; how sportspeople are naturally competitive, so desperately want to win; and how it’s a lot more difficult under studio lights than it is at home.
The word “iconic” was flogged to within an inch of its life. Juicy details – such as Coleman introducing the ritual of eating a full Sunday roast, complete with wine, before every recording – were few and far between. This turgid production needed more backstage gossip and spicy anecdotes, and perhaps some unseen bloopers.
It was bookended by a behind-thescenes tour from the current stars, which only demonstrated how today’s show is a shadow of its former self. The venerable institution has been left behind by fresher, sharper formats, and now relies too heavily on forced banter, stunts and parlour games.
Trying too hard to compete with Sky rival A League of Their Own and BBC stablemate Top Gear, A Question of Sport has lost what made it special. Still, we’ll always have the glory days on that swirly lounge carpet.
A Question of Sport at 50 ★★