Day BBC bosses made Invers rage
SO farewell then to John Inverdale, the BBC’s main rugby anchor for much of the last 30 turbulent years during which time rugby has morphed from shambling amateurism to, well er, shambling professionalism.
Invers is heading off to become a member of the RFU Council, a position considered incompatible with him hosting the BBC’s rugby coverage in an impartial fashion.
Really? Isn’t the current director general of the BBC Tim Davie a former Conservative councillor and a former deputy chairman of the Hammersmith and Fulham Conservative party? Where’s the impartiality there? Funny old world, Saint!
Mind you, there might not be any rugby left for the BBC to cover before long. The Six Nations, currently the BBC’s only partly-owned TV property, is up for grabs and the vultures are circling.
You might think that record breaking audiences of 9m+ for some of the big games on the BBC and ITV in this last lockdown season would count for something.
Surely even the Six Nations blazers and millionaire CEOs running the Unions will think twice and possibly thrice before they flog off the family silver to one of the big digital giants?
Rugby is the leading sport on the planet for shooting itself in the foot and suffering unintended consequences from precipitate actions or law changes. Does anybody in the Six Nations seriously think it is a good idea giving up viewing figures like that? We will find out soon enough.
Meanwhile it’s been a fine and lengthy innings from Inverdale, equally at home on TV and radio. A confirmed rugby tragic but also a consummate broadcaster who can turn on a sixpence and give you the impression everything has been minutely planned and rehearsed when in fact behind the camera and in his earpiece a full-scale meltdown is going on. Very good in a crisis.
He loves his rugby, always recognised that the Six Nations as a great day out that is meant to be enjoyed, but also never failed to add a bit of bite and journalistic integrity to the pre- and postmatch badinage. Former players and studio guests are inclined to waffle and/or get splinters sitting on the fence and John has an aversion to both. Hopefully he will take that questioning attitude into RFU committee rooms.
Some remember him for the vast array of club shirts he used to wear when presenting Rugby Special and unbelievably that became something of a cause celebre with some – not least his employers – feeling it was unbecoming of such a programme as Rugby Special to dress down. He eventually toed the party line and wore a collar and jacket although, from memory, not always a tie.
But my abiding rugby memory of Invers is sitting in a soulless bar with him in the Star City Casino in Darling Harbour very late one night early in RWC2003 soon after we had finished our day’s work.
I should explain that most of HM Press and the media pack were staying at the Star City Hotel and their bar was the only place doing food and drink when we clocked off work in the early hours. Rather wonderfully there was a little 24/7 Thai takeaway hidden amid all the slot machines.
We had just been discussing the extraordinary Rupeni Caucau when Invers had to take a call on his mobile and disappeared into a quiet corner. He came back ashen of face, trembling with rage and absolutely speechless for a minute or more. One of the world’s great gabbers had been rendered entirely mute. What had happened?
Eventually all was revealed in a memorably explosive volley of profane invective which measured a record 9.1 on the Richter scale. The son of a Naval surgeon, an impressive array of below decks curses came tumbling out.
The BBC, which had been covering and cultivating the Heineken Cup for the first six years of its existence, had just feebly run up the white flag with the Corporation bean counters failing to put in a remotely credible bid for the tournament going forward. It was going to Sky. BBC TV had given up even trying to cover the club game.
Having supported it from the outset, when nobody knew if the Heineken Cup would survive let alone flourish and given the tournament the mightiest of high profile platforms, the BBC had now wantonly abandoned ship. It seemed then, and now, one of the biggest acts of self-harm in British broadcasting history.
Invers – the unflappable ‘man for a crisis’ – was incandescent and utterly inconsolable as he staggered towards his room shaking his head in disbelief, still reeling from the blow.
He knew that the Heineken Cup was the future but as far as BBC TV was concerned it was now gone forever.
Just a few hours later, at an early breakfast Press conference, he was typically back on top form having already completed his first interview of the day for Radio 5. Still gutted, but ever the pro. The man for a crisis was back in control.