Graham Hunter on duty for Sky Sports: Spanish football has a different approach to media dealings

It was the proudest moment of Graham Hunter’s career as Glenn Moore, chairman of the Football Writers’ Association’s books committee, announced that his Barca: The Making Of The Greatest Team In The World had been chosen as the football book of the year at the British Sports Book Awards 2013.

“I am shocked and delighted,” said Hunter whose book pipped Gullem Balague’s biography of Pep Guardiola for the prestigious prize. It is a sign of the times when two books about a Spanish club dominate the voting and Hunter said: “When Terry Venables went to Barcelona and led them to the European Cup final, losing to Steaua Bucharest on penalties, Spanish football was alien to British television.”

Sky Sports changed that perception with La Liga games shown each weekend along with the excellent Revista De La Liga magazine show where Hunter and Balague are regulars.

The awards night at Lord’s was somewhat different to Hunter’s introduction to the world of football writing in 1995 when the Daily Mail opened in Scotland. Hunter had applied for a job, but had heard nothing so decided to pay them a visit to ask why, which did not go down too well.

Hunter said: “I told them my CV was sent three weeks ago and couldn’t believe no one had answered my letter. I wanted to know what was going on.”

What was soon to be going on was the sports editor helping the young upstart to vacate the building.

“They were literally, and I mean literally, holding me by the back of the collar – well, it was sports editor Bryan Cooney – throwing me out of the door when someone came running in and shouted ‘There’s a press conference at Parkhead. It’s a new signing, we don’t know who it is.’”

It was a sliding doors moment because as luck would have it, the Mail were thin on available reporters. One had been sent to Pittodrie to doorstep Willie Miller who had been sacked by Aberdeen, others were elsewhere. In the pre-mobile phone era it was impossible to contact anyone so they stopped throwing Hunter out and instead told him to get along to Celtic.

“It was Pierre van Hooijdonk,” he said. “When I arrived at Parkhead there were two camps in the press room. A growling set of Scottish reporters who were asking ‘who’s this new kid?’ and some Dutch journalists.”

No prizes for guessing who Hunter decided to sit with. “I explained it was my first day and asked where van Hooijdonk was as he was late. They told me this was because he was playing cards with his NAC Breda team-mates until 3am to say goodbye. He had missed his flight and Celtic were pretending there was fog at Schipol Airport, which was why he had been delayed.”

Hunter thanked the Dutch contingent for the background which was not known to the growlers. One Dutch journalist asked him if he was Scottish and when Hunter confirmed yes, he was, he was asked if he could take them to a kilt shop – they wanted van Hooijdonk to wear a kilt for a photo. In return the Dutch pack gave the Scottish rookie chapter and verse on van Hooijdonk and to Hunter’s delight at the press conference no Scottish reporter asked why the striker was three hours late. Result.

Returning to the Mail offices with a scoop, Hunter was given a warmer reception than his initial arrival. The editor decided it was the back-page lead and those who had tried to throw Hunter out were delighted with his exclusive.

So delighted that he was offered a job – as a rugby reporter.

“I did this for about nine months before going over to football,” said Hunter who eventually moved down to London when Cooney became sports editor. Cooney’s approach to the job was effective if not popular with everyone and Hunter’s appointment as football correspondent raised eyebrows to new levels.

Hunter has never shirked a challenge and immersed himself into his new post. “I loved reporting on England, Manchester United, Arsenal and the top clubs…the press pack, in the majority, became people who inspired me.”

He was particularly grateful for the help of Brian Woolnough, who died last year, Steven Howard, and Nigel Clarke “who either saw someone who was young and lost or someone they liked….they took me under their wing.” Football writers never forget those who have helped them and when Hunter was injured on a trip to Luxembourg he remembers how Oliver Holt, Lee Clayton and Paul McCarthy “were brilliant”.

He said: “Our industry is full of remarkable, interesting people and I found working in London a deeply enriching part of my life. I miss the English press scene and adored what I was doing.”

In 2002 Hunter decided to realise an ambition that had started 20 years previously at the 1982 World Cup. “I promised myself I’d go back to Spain,” he said. “The moment I crossed the border from France to Spain I knew it was for me. I’d grown up adoring Spanish football even though finding out information or seeing clips in those days was difficult.

“The idea of going to the city of the club where Steve Archibald [who played for Aberdeen where Hunter was born] played and where Terry Venables had managed made me choose Barcelona.”

The bad news was that Hunter had no job to go to and couldn’t speak a word of Spanish while Louis van Gaal, not the most media friendly of coaches, had just been reappointed. In 2002-2003 Barca ended the season sixth, their lowest finish in La Liga in 15 years. For the benefit of anoraks, the starting XI was: Bonano – Gabri, de Boer, Puyol, Sorin – Mendieta, Xavi, Cocu, Riquelme – Saviola, Kluivert.

Hunter said: “In the summer of 2003 Barcelona were close to not even being able to pay anyone’s wages. They were in the midst of a six-year run without a trophy.”

The appointments of Frank Rijkaard and a new president, Joan Laporta, saw a gradual change in Barca’s fortunes. The Dutch coach phased out the old guard and led the Catalan club to the title in 2005 and 2006. By then the team was: Valdes – Oleguer, Puyol, Marquez, van Bronckhorst – Edmilson, van Bommel, Deco – Larsson, Eto’o, Ronaldinho.

In 2008 Pep Guardiola succeeded Rijkaard, the remarkable Messi-inspired Barca side winning 14 trophies in four years, making him the most successful coach in the club’s history.

By then Graham Hunter was fluent in Spanish while the rise and rise of what many observers call the best club team they have ever seen ensured plenty of work for the reporter whose career had started by almost being thrown out of the door.

Sir Winston Churchill said that if you have a job you love you will never do a day’s work in your life and Hunter is one of many football writers who fit that category, the bonus living in a city where the climate is superb while following a club where the working conditions for the media and the attitude towards the press are a million miles from those experienced in Britain.

Clubs here keep the media at arm’s length, dishing out bans for headlines that are not to their liking. Hunter believes the press should have been collectively stronger, standing up to such over-zealous authority that at times has bordered on bullying.

“It should make us embarrassed,” said Hunter. “For some reason, and it’s the fault of our profession, we aren’t unionised enough, we don’t complain enough. In Spain players are generally more eager to speak to the press, more accepting of their duties and see it as an integral part of their job.

“Occasionally they will be pissed off with us, occasionally they will say ‘no’, but generally they view us as people to be judged as we act, not as journalists who therefore must automatically be shunned. They don’t bring a Mastercard machine and say ‘that will be 20,000 euro.’ In my 11 years in Spain no one has ever asked me for money for an interview.

“They see it as part of their duties, it’s part of their culture because they have been educated that way. The clubs tell players they are selling their season tickets…they are promoting their sponsors…and because they have grown up speaking to the press the vast majority of players enjoy it. They respect us, even asking us our point of view.”

Up until the 1980s English-based football writers enjoyed a similar rapport with leading players and managers, but dealings with the press are far more sanitised now.

Two players gain an honourable mention from Hunter – Iker Casillas and Xavi. “Both are high achievers with an enormous amount to say. They are decent people, intelligent, interesting and funny.”

The appreciation of Hunter by his adopted home was shown by an invitation to join the players in the dressing room after Spain won the 2010 World Cup and again following their Euro 2012 triumph – a scenario unthinkable from an English perspective.

“Their attitude was ‘you’ve put in the miles, you’ve slogged up and down the roads – come in.’ It is exactly the same as I did with England and it says everything about Spain, not me.”

The idea for the book came from the publishers, BackPage Press who “twisted my arm almost to breaking point”, said Hunter. “The co-operation I was given was astonishing. Nobody said ‘no’ and nobody asked for copy approval.

“It was a pleasure to deal with the players and I thoroughly enjoyed telling the story.”

• Barca: The Making Of The Greatest Team In The World by Graham Hunter (BackPage Press, £12.99)

• This feature first appeared on the website of the Football Writers’ Association, and is reproduced here with permission

• For previous sports book reviews, click here

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That’s it, then. Another sports book of the year award almost done and dusted and, again, I haven’t won anything.

It shouldn’t be surprising. For a number of reasons. Not least that I didn’t have a sports book published in the last 12 months, but mostly because I sit at the feet of multi-award winners like Duncan Hamilton when it comes to discovering the golden touch that brings trophies as well as money from writing sports books.

I remember Duncan as a rather shy young sports reporter at the Nottingham Evening Post when I was in the features department there. He put that experience to good use by writing Provided You Don’t Kiss Me: 20 Years With Brian Clough that won the William Hill Sports Book of the Year award in 2007. A couple of years later, he lifted the title again with his Harold Larwood book. Both books won British Sports Book Awards too.

His The Footballer Who Could Fly didn’t win the autobiography or biography category at the Sports Book of the Year Awards at Lord’s the other night – did anything stand a chance against David Walsh’s Seven Deadly Sins? – but in any other year it probably would have triumphed.

Yes, I’m quietly envious of Duncan. And I have a dream, not quite of Martin Luther King proportions but it goes something like this: the babble of a banqueting hall is hushed; my name is announced and I climb to my feet, feigning shyness and humility before weaving my way around the tables, nodding at a celebrity here, accepting a handshake there, before climbing the stage to accept the award and thank my agent and my publisher, plus everyone who voted for me. Oh, I forgot the music.

As I make my way to the stage there’s music. I’m not sure what. It would depend on the book. But it would be suitably stirring. I quite fancy the theme from 633 Squadron. For that, though, I need an idea that ties up sport with a daring raid on a German V2 rocket fuel plant. Maybe I should think of another tune …

I’m getting ahead of myself. Because even after you’ve written and had your book published, to win a sports book of the year award you still need to persuade your publisher to enter it, and pay the entry fee. And there are other costs to this, too. Anyone believing that awards committees themselves go searching for good sports books is probably still putting out mince pies and a glass of sherry, with a carrot for Rudolph, on Christmas Eve.

Actually, I’ve just been looking back at my output over 40 years and, if I’m honest, there’s not really a contender. In the early days I was knocking out sports books under a variety of noms de plume for a publisher who wished to give the impression that he had a stable of writers at his disposal. I didn’t mind that. In fact, when one boxing book received a merciless review, I was grateful for the cloak of anonymity. The reviewer said: “I haven’t a clue who [I’m still not admitting to it] is but … ” And I thought: “Yes, mate, and you’ll remain in ignorance, too.”

Duncan Hamilton’s latest book. That didn’t win an award, either

I did think that my Gas Masks To Goal Posts: The Story of Football in Britain During the Second World War might have stood an outside chance of at least being nominated, not least because our own Peter Wilson was kind enough to give it a glowing review on this website. But the publishers, Sutton (who coughed up a £5,000 advance) were by then in the process of being bought up – and subsequently busted; now you know why – and they weren’t interested in entering competitions any more.

And Pen and Sword might have put forward my Hitler’s Olympics. After all, the great Frank Keating described it as “startlingly good, vividly illuminating … ” But it never happened, probably because there were at least three other books covering the same subject, one even with the same title (well it was the 70th anniversary of those 1936 Games).

So, as you can see, honours have eluded me. I will continue to walk in the shadows of men like Walsh and Hamilton.

Instead I have to content myself with appearing in the index of Phil Shaw’s 2003 Book of Football Quotations, where I’m neatly sandwiched between those two literary giants, Bruce Rioch and Andy Ritchie.

As a matter of fact, I’m also in the index of Family Britain, a brilliant history of the 1950s by David Kynaston, only here I’m snuggled up next to 10 Rillington Place, the house where the unassuming John Reginald Halliday Christie strangled at least eight females, so I make rather less of that. In fact, when I mentioned this to the SJA secretary, he shuddered. The film still frightens him.

In the meantime, I wonder if it is possible to set out to write something with the sole intention of winning a sports book of the year award? I’ll give that some thought while sitting back with a glass of passable red and dreaming of that moment – “ And the winner is … ”

Cue music.

• For previous sports book reviews, click here

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As if he had not scooped up enough prizes already, David Walsh last night was presented with another at the 11th annual British Sports Book Awards staged at Lord’s.

Book him: Terry Venables presents the award for Best Sports Book Retailer to Foyle’s chief executive, Sam Husain. This year is the Charing Cross store’s 110th anniversary

Walsh’s Seven Deadly Sins, the account of his relentless effort to expose Lance Armstrong as one of the biggest cheats in the history of sport, was named the best autobiography or biography from an impressive eight-title shortlist (a sign of the times: three were cycling books) that included multi-award winning author Duncan Hamilton’s The Footballer Who Could Fly, Seb Coe’s Running For My Life (at least the third autobiography from Lord Olympics), and Simon Jordan’s Be Careful What You Wish For.

Other winners were:
Cricket Book of the Year: On Warne by Gideon Haigh
Football Book of the Year: Barca: The Making of the Greatest Team in the World by Graham Hunter
Golf Book of the Year: Bobby’s Open – Mr Jones and the Golf Shot That Defined a Legend by Steven Reid
Horse Racing Book of the Year: Her Majesty’s Pleasure by Julian Muscat
Motorsport Book of the Year: That Near Death Thing by Rick Broadbent
Rugby Book of the Year: The Final Whistle – The Great War in Fifteen Players by Stephen Cooper
Illustrated Book of the Year: 21 Days To Glory by Team Sky and Dave Brailsford

New Writer of the Year: Adharan Finn for Running With The Kenyans
Best Publicity Campaign: Bethan Jones, publicity director of Yellow Jersey Press for Be Careful What You Wish For
Best Sports Bookseller: Foyles, which celebrates its 110th birthday this year

The British Sports Books Awards, originally part of the National Sporting Club’s banqueting programme, now sees all the book category winners become the shortlist for the overall Sports Book of the Year, voted for by the public and to be announced next month.

Sports writer and commentator Christopher Martin-Jenkins was honoured with a posthumous award for Outstanding Contribution to Sports Writing. During a distinguished career, CMJ held some of the biggest posts in the game, including cricket correspondent of the BBC, cricket correspondent of The Daily Telegraph and The Times, and president of MCC.

David Willis, the chairman of the BSBA, said: “CMJ was a colossus of the cricket world. He was the ultimate writer and commentator, a professional whose passion for the game earned him an unrivalled respect by his peers and an admiration from cricketers at all levels and fans around the world. We are delighted to be able to honour him.”

• Walsh unveils the story behind the Armstrong story
• Kelner’s 60-year history thinks inside the box
• Cecil’s true-life story has a plot that defies fiction
• Hooker’s life story that will make you fancy a ruck

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There’s usually something special about the arrival of the Australians for an Ashes series. Sixty years ago, there was something unusual, when their first match grabbed the headlines because they took on a village cricket club.

The historic programme for a village cricket club

In 1953,the men in the baggy green caps had their first outing on English soil before a packed crowd at East Molesey Cricket Club in suburban Surrey.

They also faced a challenge from a local newspaper. For years, cricketers had been trying to hit a six over the trees on to Tagg’s Island in the centre of the River Thames which adjoined the ground.

When it became clear that the Aussies had agreed to the match , the Molesey and Ditton News started a campaign. “Here come some of the world’s greatest cricket players led by big hitter Keith Miller,and here in Molesey, we have one of the most challenging grounds in world.

Can Keith Miller or one of his team mates hit the Island? Let us make it worth their while to try.” said an editorial one January day.

“Here is a challenge. The Molesey and Ditton News offers £50 to the first man to put a ball on Tagg’s Island without a splash during the course of the match on April 26. The ball must be hit during the match proper and must score six for the batting side.

“But let us not stop at £50, the Molesey and Ditton News invites any local sportsman or business firm to add to this amount.”

The proceeds were to be divided between the successful player, the East Molesey Club and the National Playing Fields Association.

The paper increased its own stake to £100. They persuaded Sir Pelham Warner, editor of The Cricketer magazine, to stump up another £10 . His staff also produced a special souvenir programme complete with pen pictures of the Australian tourists and information about the club and its ground which dated back to the 18th century. By the time the match had come round the fund had swelled to more than £1,000 – at least £25,000 by today’s values.

A montage from the programme, which was produced by The Cricketer magazine

The newsreels, BBC Radio, and the cricket correspondent of The Times all clamoured for position and there was a familiar voice on the tannoy, John Arlott. “The cider and cheese accent gave a commentary that would never have done on the BBC,” said the local paper.

The guest of honour was the Duke of Edinburgh, barely six weeks before the coronation. He was welcomed by club patron Viscount Leathers.

The match had come as a result of the efforts of Basil Turner, the Molesey club president. He’d worked for World Sports Magazine in the 1930s. After the war. his “day job” with the Reciprocal Trades Federation brought him into close contact with officials in Australia and New Zealand. The black caps came to East Molesey in 1949, but to the amazement of the cricket press, he pulled off the big one in 1953.

“How Mr Turner arranged it I will never know. It was a remarkable piece of statesmanship,” said Australia’s captain, Lindsay Hassett.

Modest Molesey: the pavilion where Australia began their 1953 Ashes tour at a small English cricket club

“One falls to wondering how this game got into the official programme. Why this London club should get such preferential treatment is not clear,” wrote Jack Fingleton, covering the tour as a reporter.

Miller was more critical in a post-tour newspaper column. “I do not know how this match was arranged but I believe a lot of strings were pulled.” He called the match “unnecessary” and described East Molesey as “…this little isolated club”. He even used the phrase “tin pot”.

The club fired off an indignant riposte to the Australian Cricket Board complaining of “scurrilous “ comments .

On the Sunday of the game, an estimated 10,000 packed into the ground, despite complaints from the Lord’s Day Observance Society. The club’s budget fore the event included paying for a police inspector, a sergeant and eight constables, at a total cost of £4.

In the the paperwork, it said: “NATURE OF DUTY : MAINTAINING ORDER INSIDE CRICKET GROUND”.

The home team was bolstered in a 13-a-side match by a few guest players, among them Trevor Bailey of Essex, later a member of the SJA. In that summer of 1953, he was to earn his nickname “Barnacle” with a match-saving display for England at Lord’s.

At Molesey, he saved the blushes of the home club, tottering at 23 for 4 before he hit 40. His partnership with Doug Insole helped Molesey to 244. Insole’s innings was ended by a young clerk playing his first match on English soil. His name was Richie Benaud.

Australia batted after a prolonged interval. After all, you cannot hurry the Queen’s husband through his tea, though umpire Jim Broadbent did his best. “We really should be getting out, Mr Hassett,” he told the Australian captain within earshot of the Duke.

“I’ve never known such a keen umpire,” the Duke was heard to remark.

The teams for the Australians’ tour match at East Molesey in April 1953. Picture courtesy of EMCC

Opening for Australia, Arthur Morris hit the first century of the tour, but it was Miller who came closest to fulfilling the Molesey and Ditton News sixes challenge. His best effort finished in the river only 10 feet short, splashing the shoes of Ted Lovell, paid a crisp £1 note to sit on the island all day and adjudicate.

The match had more serious consequences for the Aussies. Bowler Bill Johnston broke down injured and was never quite as effective again for the rest of the tour.

Later in the summer, the Australians returned to Surrey soil for a rather more important match. They lost the final Test at The Oval by seven wickets and surrendered the Ashes after 19 years.

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There will be a gathering at Westfield Court Hotel at 3pm.

The address for sympathy cards is 9 The Boulevard, Wylde Green, Sutton Coldfield B73 5JB.

• Donations in Ian’s memory are going to leukaemia and lymphoma research: https://www.justgiving.com/Ian-Willars
• Norman Giller pays tribute to Ian Willars
• Tributes to Midlands sports writer Ian Willars

Based in Maidenhead, the role involves covering football, rugby, hockey, cricket and a wide range of sports from grassroots to elite level.

You must be capable of working quickly and accurately as part of a small team.

This is not a nine to five job.

Candidates should have a minimum of an NCTJ pre-entry certificate or equivalent and a sound working knowledge of Quark Express and Photoshop.

Post your CV, along with a covering letter saying why you are the right candidate for this job, to: Graeme Copas, Sports Editor, Maidenhead Advertiser, 48 Bell Street, Maidenhead, Berkshire, SL6 1HX. or email it to: graemec@baylismedia.co.uk

Closing date: Wednesday, May 29, 2013

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“I have spent 10 years attempting to do one of the best jobs in British sports journalism, covering a golden era of the sport in some of the most glamorous cities in the world, so I give it up with a heavy heart and great sadness about the people, places, matches and stories I am leaving,” Overend told sportsjournalists.co.uk.

Jonathan Overend: his last fortnight in the commentary box at Wimbledon as BBC tennis correspondent will be next month

“However, I have taken the decision purely for personal reasons and my two young daughters – Amelia, six, Jessica, four – have bemoaned ‘Daddy’s big suitcase’ coming down from the loft for a final time. That, I must confess, is a huge relief.”

Overend’s spell as tennis correspondent has two Grand Slams left – Paris and then, next month, he will commentate on Wimbledon. Aged 40, he has worked for the BBC for 20 years, having succeeded Iain Carter on tennis in 2002. Since then, Overend has  commentated on all 17 of Roger Federer’s Grand Slams, all seven of Rafa Nadal’s French Opens and Andy Murray’s debut major at the US Open last year.

His move was flagged up earlier this week, when the BBC took the highly unusual step of advertising externally for a replacement for such a plum role – senior on-air broadcast positions are rarely, if ever, advertised in such a manner.

Overend will undertake more presenting work for Radio 5Live, probably covering football more often, the staple of any sportsdesk, and he will report on a wide range of Olympic sports.

“I am incredibly excited about covering a wider variety of sports as presenter, commentator and reporter,” he said. “My passion for the Olympic Games hopefully came across during our coverage of London 2012 and having championed taekwondo last summer – one of the big ‘hits’ of our Sony Award-winning coverage on 5Live – I’m planning to return to the sport to cover the world championships this July.” So the “big suitcase” won’t have been put away altogether.

“This will be the first of many assignments at major Olympic sport events where I hope my all-sport passion will help raise the profile of so-called minority sports even further.

“At the BBC we have to take a lot of responsibility for creating that legacy that we all banged on about last summer. Unless we can build on the success stories, the sports which captured the public’s imagination, then we have failed in a key duty as the Olympic Broadcaster.”

The move has not been described as such, but sounds very much like a promotion to a higher profile role on the rolling news channel.

“As for my successor, I wish him or her the best possible time in one of the best possible jobs and will continue to support Andy Murray, Laura Robson and Heather Watson from a distance. They have all been great to work with and I shall certainly miss them,” Overend said.

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I wish I could remember his name. Small, pale, thinning hair, raincoat, he came to work at the Burton Mail in the late 1960s.

Or it might have been the early 1970s.

That’s the trouble: the older you get the more previous decades seem to merge.

Fenella Fielding, British movie star of the 1960s, and apparently well-regarded in Burton newspaper offices

Whatever, I was at the Derby Evening Telegraph’s district office in Burton. They were halcyon days for local newspapers; ours in particular. Circulation touching six figures – thanks in no small part to Brian Clough’s miracle work at the Baseball Ground – and advertisers joining a two-week long queue to promote whatever it was they were selling.

Our office was a one-up-one-down affair at the corner of Abbey Arcade and the Market Place. It’s a nail bar now.

A 19th-century wrought-iron circular staircase used to connect the upstairs reporters’ room with the downstairs’ publishing “department”. Otherwise, communication was by means of a bulldog clip on a long piece of packer’s string, on which late news and racing results hot off the teleprinter (which in cold weather was always three letters behind the one you’d just pressed) were lowered to be put in the “fudge” (for young people, that’s the stop press; we’ll explain the stop press itself another time) using a “bushing machine”, a sort of giant duplicator so called, I think, because it was manufactured by Bush of Loughborough.

All local sport was covered from the office, lumped together with Rotary club lunches, town council meetings and magistrates’ court, which meant that the affairs of Burton Albion, then in the Southern League, fell to a succession of reporters who had no actual interest in sport in general, never mind football in particular.

The only problem was that the presses at the old Northcliffe House, slap-bang in middle of the town centre – Derby’s city status was still a few years away – weren’t all that reliable. Sometimes the first Burton edition didn’t arrive until late afternoon. And even then, it often carried Burton area stories that were perhaps two days old whereas the Burton Mail, printed just down the High Street, was bang up-to-date.

But life there was a cosy affair. No one from head office bothered us and long lunchtimes were spent in the office pub that stood on the other side of the Market Place. I liked the Royal Oak. During my time in Burton it had a number of agreeable landlords including one who divorced his second wife and remarried his first. It takes a real man to admit that he’s made a mistake.

Now, the Royal Oak took in lodgers and this is where my mysterious character comes in. He came to work at the Burton Mail and took up residence at the pub. Then one lunchtime he dropped into the conversation that he had once dated Fenella Fielding, “England’s first lady of the double entendre”, and then a household name in film and television.

We were impressed. But then the following day he claimed to have discovered Matt Monro, taught Denis Compton how to bat, and set Henry Cooper on his way to the heavyweight championship of Great Britain and the British Empire. So now we took his alleged dalliance with La Fielding with a large dollop of salt.

Such scepticism was justified a few days later when he announced that he had to make an urgent call to Dave Charnley, the British lightweight champion, who he said he managed. He was busy on the pub telephone, apparently arranging a world title fight in New York for the Dartford Destroyer, when the landlord picked up the extension to listen in.

You may be unsurprised to learn that there was no one at the other end. We decided not to let on because he was such good entertainment value.

Alas, one Sunday morning, he took the landlord’s prize pedigree bitch for a walk, let her off the lead, and returned with her pregnant by a mangy mutt that was roaming loose in Stapenhill Pleasure Gardens. It was a misdemeanour too far. When the truth emerged, he was asked to find new accommodation.

I still can’t think of his name. I wonder if Fenella Fielding might remember?

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Former sports minister Kate Hoey presents the BBC’s Jonathan Overend with his 2011 Sports Broadcaster of the Year award/Photo by STEVE ROWE

Overend is leaving his job as BBC Radio’s tennis correspondent after this year’s Wimbledon. He is to take up a sports news role, with particular focus on Olympic sport.

As a consequence, the BBC is now advertising for a tennis correspondent.

The BBC’s recruitment ad says:

“You will be BBC radio’s voice of tennis – leading the coverage and journalism of the sport, particularly on BBC Radio 5 live and 5 live Sports Extra. You will also be expected to work across all platforms, delivering stories and insight on the BBC’s television, radio and online sports news outlets. You will also contribute to BBC television’s tennis coverage.

“You will be expected to travel at short notice and some weekend working is required.

“With extensive broadcasting skills and the ability to engage and attract the audience both domestically and globally, you will have a comprehensive knowledge of the sport of tennis and an understanding of the workings and make up of the governing bodies of the sport, both nationally and internationally. With good contacts across the sport of tennis you will have demonstrable experience of breaking stories with a strong journalist background and the ability to provide in-depth analysis and be informative.”

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