Friday the 13th is one of those days.
Many people dread it, expecting bad rather than good things to happen to them and thereby reliably invoking the Law of Self-fulfilling Prophesies.
This past one in November 2015, however, may have taken the crown in a long line of all the bad thirteenth days of a month that fell on a Friday – in the saddest possible way. So much so that, although taken hostage professionally (and physically) by the events in Paris, given the magnitude of suffering even I did not have one of my self-pitying “Balotelli Moments”, as in, “Why always me?”
But under the circumstances and given my close connection to them, I also felt it inappropriate to write a blog post. No other topic seemed relevant by comparison, and on the attacks, their significance, and their consequences all was already being said by every commentator, analyst, and pundit under the sun. Who was I to add anything?
So I took advice from these timeless words of wisdom in the Old Testament, Ecclesiastes 3:1-13, and shut up for once:
“A Time for Everything
“There is a time for everything,
and a season for every activity under the heavens:
a time to be born and a time to die,
a time to plant and a time to uproot,
a time to kill and a time to heal,
a time to tear down and a time to build,
a time to weep and a time to laugh,
a time to mourn and a time to dance,
a time to scatter stones and a time to gather them,
a time to embrace and a time to refrain from embracing,
a time to search and a time to give up,
a time to keep and a time to throw away,
a time to tear and a time to mend,
a time to be silent and a time to speak,
a time to love and a time to hate,
a time for war and a time for peace.”
(Holy Bible, New International Version / My emphasis)
If you like folk and country rock, and I admittedly do, there is a contemporary musical version of this passage, the song Turn! Turn! Turn! written by Pete Seeger but turned [sic!] into an international hit by the American ‘Sixties group, The Byrds, hitting Number One of the U.S. Hot 100 Charts on 4 December 1965, exactly half a century ago!
“To everything turn, turn, turn
There is a season turn, turn, turn
And a time to every purpose
Under heaven.”
Fun fact: In the U.S., the song holds distinction as the #1 hit with the oldest lyrics, the words attributed to King Solomon who is generally believed to have reigned Israel circa 970 to 931 BC.
Back to the year 2015, and there is one twist to the Paris Friday 13 November tale I do want to pick up on.
Just to recapitulate briefly, one of the targets of the attacks was the Stade de France where on the night an international friendly (!) game was being played between the host nation and Germany, attended by none less than President François Hollande. In the course of the first, otherwise eventless half, a couple of strange sounds could be heard inside the stadium, but play went on regardless – you may have seen the TV pictures.
Here comes the less well-known part of the story that I think is worth reflecting on even if the events themselves are now literally last month’s news. And the following may be still be of interest to you, I hope.
By half-time, the two team managers had been informed those sounds had actually been explosions from terrorists blowing themselves up outside the stadium because they hadn’t been able to get in due to the heightened security measures put in place to protect Monsieur le Président (who had in the meantime of course been rushed off the premises).
Joachim “Jogi” Löw and his colleague Didier Deschamps, who share the distinction of both having won the World Cup – the former as Germany’s Head Coach in 2014, the latter as the French team captain in 1998 (Deschamps as player also won the European Championship in 2000, a feat Löw is still aspiring to as a coach) – were now faced with a very difficult call to make, to inform their teams or to pretend everything was normal.
They both opted for the latter, improvising an apparently ordinary half-time locker-room talk in the knowledge of what was going on outside. They both pulled it off and sent their players out for the second half totally unaware of the situation, a remarkable performance, a strong show of character and self-control, and a testament to their leadership skills.
Throughout those second 45 minutes, the teams remained oblivious, and when the French scored their two goals that won the game (it was only a friendly match, mind, so good luck to them…), the crowd chanted, cheered, and celebrated – you see, the Stade de France is notorious for poor mobile network coverage.
If this was the script of a Hollywood movie, you would have to suspend all disbelief in order to buy into and enjoy it.
But it gets even better (or worse): The German team spent the night in their locker room and adjacent shower area before finally being allowed by security forces to leave the catacombs at seven in the morning – their team bus was deemed to be too obvious and easy a target.
Over those hours, they had a lot of time to talk about a lot of things, one of them the question whether they felt like playing the next game scheduled for the following Tuesday in Hannover against The Netherlands. In the end, they decided they would, not least in order to show strength and defiance.
Terrorism is called terrorism because it aims to frighten many more people than it will ever actually kill.
Fast forward four days, on Tuesday 17 November that game was cancelled by the German authorities on the night itself, just some two hours before kick-off. Both squads were already on their way to the stadium – cue again the famous team bus. It has transpired since there had indeed been a concrete plot for another terrorist attack.
Let’s not forget one thing in this context: While the football stars of our time are promoted beyond reason, pampered beyond belief, and paid beyond comprehension, they are only in their teens or twenties. By far the oldest player on the German team in Paris was Bastian Schweinsteiger, and he is all of 31. Most of our modern-day gladiators are mere kids.
So from Hannover they all went home to their respective clubs to play there again the following weekend. And that was when not only they showed a remarkable resilience, but also the fans.
After what had happened a few days before, it would have been quite understandable if people had felt like staying at home rather than going to the games. Mass events, after all, were the perfect opportunities for further attacks.
But turn up they did, and in impressive numbers. That weekend, the top five European leagues in England, France, German, Italy, and Spain registered a total attendance of 1,386,032 spectators – all of whom had decided not to do the terrorists the favour of caving in, of being frightened, of giving up their way of life.
In every stadium that weekend (and the same scene took also place outside the respective top leagues) a minute of silence for the 130 victims was observed before kick-off. In their own way, no less than 10,000 football fans gathered for a vigil for each person killed in Paris.
And then there was one venue that celebrated a very special, even more dignified, and thereby truly unique occasion – Hamburg.
Following those 60 seconds of undisturbed quiet respect, another minute was added in commemoration of Helmut Schmidt, the former German Chancellor, a Century Man, and possibly the city’s greatest son, who had died on 10 November, and the contrast could not have been bigger. That second minute saw 57,000 people on their feet vigorously applauding – and many of them thinking, I am sure, how good it would be to have him at a time like this:
“We need a hero.”
For me, Jogi Löw and Didier Deschamps were heroic in the way they conducted themselves during the game in Paris.
Andy Warhol, admittedly in a different context (the rise of mass media and mass consumerism) is credited with saying: “In the future, everyone will be world-famous for fifteen minutes.” Of course, he was right on the money, even if I doubt he could have foreseen the emergence of today’s “social media” and the narcissism of Generation Selfie.
That said, I would maintain there is still a difference between lasting fame and ephemeral celebrity.
That night in Paris, as far as I am concerned, in spite of all their previous triumphs on the football field, the two coaches, doing what they did in the locker rooms, achieved their true “fifteen minutes of fame” – the exact duration of a half-time break in football of course. A mere coincidence? For you to judge.
They had a very tough call to make, they got it right, and they pulled it off.
They mastered the stress of looking their players in the eyes and pretending everything was business as usual, without ever having been trained how to handle such an unimaginable situation.
Technically, by the way, they chose to adhere to a principle that works well in media relations (and maybe not just there):
“Never lie, but don’t always say everything you know.”
Had one of the players asked them, “Hey Coach, those noises we heard – were they explosions?” I’m pretty sure they would have told them the truth. But of course that inquiry never came.
In an interview, if the journalist asks me a question point-blank, I will answer it truthfully. But if they don’t, guess what, there is no sense in going anywhere near something I maybe don’t really want to talk about. Which of course sounds easier than it is sometimes…
Anyhow – an interview is not an exam, you don’t do it to answer questions. You do it to tell your story. If you don’t have a story to tell, don’t do the interview.
And make sure your story is interesting, relevant, and, on a good day, compelling.
As already said, that Paris locker-room situation would have made for a great film scene with its strained attempt at conveying normalcy in the midst of deadly chaos.
Maybe even more impactful than those famous Hollywood half-time, pre-game, and pep talks that are meant to conjure up the exact opposite of “there is nothing special going on; the score is 0-0; and you know what, it’s only a friendly game anyway”.
My top three greatest sports coaches’ motivating speeches in film history?
In ascending order:
Gene Hackman as Coach Norman Dale in Hoosiers (1986)
Denzel Washington as Coach Herman Boone in Remember the Titans (2000)
And the winner is:
Al Pacino as Coach Tony d’Amato in Any Given Sunday (1999)
Since it’s a difficult choice to make, honourable mentions go to Paul Newman as Player / Coach Reggie Dunlop in Slap Shot (1977) and to Kurt Russell as Coach Herb Brooks in Miracle (2004).
Modern sports is sometimes called a surrogate for war, and I guess it speaks for the human species if we have finally learned to work out our issues without killing each other.
Famously, Scottish football Coach / Manager Bill Shankly (1913 – 1981), who celebrated his greatest successes with Liverpool, once said about his sport: “Some people believe football is a matter of life and death. I am very disappointed with that attitude. I can assure you it is much, much more important than that.”
Taunting the other local major club and its supporters, Everton, he famously also said: “This city has two great football teams – Liverpool and Liverpool Reserves.” Love it.
No wonder then, of course, that there are also great motivating speeches to be found in plays or movies set in war times.
However, different from football games, battles do not have half-time breaks during which refreshments are served. So those addresses tend to be either pre-battle rallying calls or post-battle celebrations of victory – but the latter less so as literally licking your wounds does not make you all that receptive to, and appreciative of, oratory flights of fancy. Everybody is just sweaty and tired and wants a drink.
So, you may have anticipated it, here are my top three battle speeches, again in ascending order:
Mel Gibson as William Wallace in Braveheart (1995)
Russell Crowe as Maximus in Gladiator (2000) – what a great opening scene! The rest of the film is an anti-climax.
And the winner is (hands down):
Shakespeare, Henry V, Act IV, Scene iii, 18 – 67 (aka “St Crispin’s Day Speech”, held on 25 October 1415 before the Battle of Agincourt).
Check out how Kenneth Branagh delivers it in the movie Henry V (1989):
“… This story shall the good man teach his son;
And Crispin Crispian shall ne’er go by,
From this day to the ending of the world,
But we in it shall be remembered-
We few, we happy few, we band of brothers;
For he to-day that sheds his blood with me
Shall be my brother; be he ne’er so vile,
This day shall gentle his condition;
And gentlemen in England now a-bed
Shall think themselves accurs’d they were not here,
And hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaks
That fought with us upon Saint Crispin’s day.”
Honourable mentions in this category:
Mel Gibson (again) as Colonel Hal Moore in We Were Soldiers (2002)
Russell Crowe (again) as Captain Jack Aubrey in Master and Commander: The Far Side of the World (2003): “Quick’s the word and sharp’s the action”. Any questions?
In case you were wondering, yes, the bard from Stratford-upon-Avon inspired the title of the American TV mini-series Band of Brothers (2001) that tells the story of Easy Company of the US Army 101st Airborne division and their mission in WWII Europe from Operation Overlord (the landing in Normandy in June 1944) through V-J Day (the capitulation of Japan in August 1945). And speaking of the latter, the counterpart is The Pacific (2010), less impressive I found.
So what do all these speeches have in common? Their content is interesting, relevant, and indeed compelling to their audiences. And their delivery is credible, captivating, and motivating. “Rallying the troops”, as the expression goes.
A well-known sports wisdom holds, “Big players are made in big games”. How true. And heroes are found when the hour comes.
I now have a new hero. He is not a coach nor an athlete nor a soldier. He is a member of a much, much rarer breed, sadly missing from our public lives which to a good degree explains the mess we seem to be in.
This is a Conviction Politician.
I don’t veer from my own belief that, like all politicians, he also primarily seeks to get re-elected, but on this one occasion last week he did something that I don’t think was guided by this consideration. In fact, if it was, within his own outfit, at least short-term he didn’t do himself any favour at all.
And yet, when the hour came, he stood up and delivered a speech that already a couple of days later is credited to have been one of the best in the centuries-long history of Westminster, the Mother of all Parliaments – and that’s one heck of an accolade.
Even if we don’t buy into the hyperbole – cynically speaking, maybe it is a mere reflection of the otherwise mediocre standard of the oratory in the august House of Commons and indeed other parliaments – this speech was remarkable, it was impactful, and it was brave.
In a “Big Game” debate, a big (political) player was made.
By now, you will have worked it out: I am talking about Hilary (one “l”) Benn, Labour Member of Parliament for Leeds Central since 1999, and his passionate plea in the House of Commons in support of the Conservative Government’s plans to extend the British bombing of terrorist targets from Iraq to Syria. He did this, mind, as the Shadow Foreign Secretary, a position he has held since May 2015, on the front bench of the new, somewhat different, and decidedly pacifist Labour leader, Jeremy Corbyn.
Don’t be mistaken – aged 62, Hilary Benn is no spring chicken, no rookie, and no newcomer to the game. He looks back on a long and distinguished career in British politics, having held Government offices under Prime Ministers Tony Blair and Gordon Brown between 2003 and 2010. Since then, as is the fate of members of the parliamentary Opposition, he has spent his life “in the shadows”, so to speak, last as Shadow Secretary of State for Communities and Local Government.
He also has a political pedigree second-to-none. A fourth-generation MP, his father was Tony Benn who died only last year, a Member of Parliament himself for 47 years, one of the heroes of British Labour Party and Socialist folklore, and a role model for the current party leadership.
For a wonderful take on the father-son relationship, if so inclined, read this column by Robert Shrimsley in the Financial Times of 3 December 2015: “The words Benn senior would have exchanged with his son”
http://www.ft.com/cms/s/0/c9ede92a-9913-11e5-95c7d47aa298f769.html#axzz3tZrI0Olr
And yet, until last week, Benn junior was generally viewed a “quiet and worthy figure”, but a “hitherto underwhelming politician”, or such.
Given all of the above, it is even more remarkable how Hilary Benn in the evening of 2 December 2015, making the closing speech for the Opposition in the House of Commons in the debate on British airstrikes against ISIS (or ISIL or Daesh – I never know what to call them now) in Syria, defied Corbyn and his second-in-command and political enforcer, Tom Watson, who were both menacingly sitting immediately behind him as he spoke, literally framing him on-camera, and looking anything but understanding, amused, or happy.
“The mouse,” another Labour MP remarked, “has roared.”
The following day, in its 3 December issue, the left-leaning Guardian newspaper, not supportive of the current Government, neither in general policy terms nor on this issue, felt obliged to comment: “For 15 minutes, Benn was verbal shock and awe [my emphasis – I like that phrase!]… As he sat down, many MPs on both sides of the House started clapping and cheering. Some gave him a standing ovation.”
For those of us, I included, who are not so familiar with the age-old dos and dont's of the House of Commons – this is normally an absolute no-no.
What delights me personally about this of course is to see re-established the importance of a good speech in an age obsessed with sound bites, info graphics, and tweets.
So, not unlike football coaches Löw and Deschamps, in his own much more public way Hilary Benn had his “fifteen minutes of fame”: After a lifetime in politics, he rose to the occasion, defying the pressure from his peers and his party leaders, and did what he felt was right. He followed his conviction. And he pulled it off brilliantly.
You should watch the speech: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=m_dRCzd19Uc
And don’t miss the symbolic scene at the end as he tries to sit down again on the Labour front bench between Corbyn and Watson who do not move an inch to the side to accommodate him. Speak of “body language” in the truest sense of the term.
Great drama!
The general consensus in the Labour Party afterwards was that indeed Benn had blown in those fifteen minutes any chances he might have had of ever taking over. Standing for many other similar reactions, when asked on Sky News TV whether he thought Benn would make a good Labour leader, Ken Livingstone, the former London mayor and a close ally of Corbyn’s said: “I wouldn’t vote for him, no, not after the speech he gave.”
By contrast, I probably would, yes, after the speech he gave. Because he gave it. Others may feel the same way. We shall see.
For now, he has instilled the hope in me that I may have occasion to write about other Conviction Politicians in future, thin on the ground and few-and-far-between though they are.
Football is sometimes called “The Beautiful Game”, politics never. There must be a reason.
In both fields, however, the past weeks since that Friday 13th, difficult as they were, have given me cause for joy (the packed stadia), encouragement (the Benn speech), and renewed confidence in our collective ability to join up, get our act together, and set things right.
My life motto for hard times?
“When it all comes down
We will still come through
In the long run.”
The Eagles, The Long Run (1979)
This past one in November 2015, however, may have taken the crown in a long line of all the bad thirteenth days of a month that fell on a Friday – in the saddest possible way. So much so that, although taken hostage professionally (and physically) by the events in Paris, given the magnitude of suffering even I did not have one of my self-pitying “Balotelli Moments”, as in, “Why always me?”
But under the circumstances and given my close connection to them, I also felt it inappropriate to write a blog post. No other topic seemed relevant by comparison, and on the attacks, their significance, and their consequences all was already being said by every commentator, analyst, and pundit under the sun. Who was I to add anything?
So I took advice from these timeless words of wisdom in the Old Testament, Ecclesiastes 3:1-13, and shut up for once:
“A Time for Everything
“There is a time for everything,
and a season for every activity under the heavens:
a time to be born and a time to die,
a time to plant and a time to uproot,
a time to kill and a time to heal,
a time to tear down and a time to build,
a time to weep and a time to laugh,
a time to mourn and a time to dance,
a time to scatter stones and a time to gather them,
a time to embrace and a time to refrain from embracing,
a time to search and a time to give up,
a time to keep and a time to throw away,
a time to tear and a time to mend,
a time to be silent and a time to speak,
a time to love and a time to hate,
a time for war and a time for peace.”
(Holy Bible, New International Version / My emphasis)
If you like folk and country rock, and I admittedly do, there is a contemporary musical version of this passage, the song Turn! Turn! Turn! written by Pete Seeger but turned [sic!] into an international hit by the American ‘Sixties group, The Byrds, hitting Number One of the U.S. Hot 100 Charts on 4 December 1965, exactly half a century ago!
“To everything turn, turn, turn
There is a season turn, turn, turn
And a time to every purpose
Under heaven.”
Fun fact: In the U.S., the song holds distinction as the #1 hit with the oldest lyrics, the words attributed to King Solomon who is generally believed to have reigned Israel circa 970 to 931 BC.
Back to the year 2015, and there is one twist to the Paris Friday 13 November tale I do want to pick up on.
Just to recapitulate briefly, one of the targets of the attacks was the Stade de France where on the night an international friendly (!) game was being played between the host nation and Germany, attended by none less than President François Hollande. In the course of the first, otherwise eventless half, a couple of strange sounds could be heard inside the stadium, but play went on regardless – you may have seen the TV pictures.
Here comes the less well-known part of the story that I think is worth reflecting on even if the events themselves are now literally last month’s news. And the following may be still be of interest to you, I hope.
By half-time, the two team managers had been informed those sounds had actually been explosions from terrorists blowing themselves up outside the stadium because they hadn’t been able to get in due to the heightened security measures put in place to protect Monsieur le Président (who had in the meantime of course been rushed off the premises).
Joachim “Jogi” Löw and his colleague Didier Deschamps, who share the distinction of both having won the World Cup – the former as Germany’s Head Coach in 2014, the latter as the French team captain in 1998 (Deschamps as player also won the European Championship in 2000, a feat Löw is still aspiring to as a coach) – were now faced with a very difficult call to make, to inform their teams or to pretend everything was normal.
They both opted for the latter, improvising an apparently ordinary half-time locker-room talk in the knowledge of what was going on outside. They both pulled it off and sent their players out for the second half totally unaware of the situation, a remarkable performance, a strong show of character and self-control, and a testament to their leadership skills.
Throughout those second 45 minutes, the teams remained oblivious, and when the French scored their two goals that won the game (it was only a friendly match, mind, so good luck to them…), the crowd chanted, cheered, and celebrated – you see, the Stade de France is notorious for poor mobile network coverage.
If this was the script of a Hollywood movie, you would have to suspend all disbelief in order to buy into and enjoy it.
But it gets even better (or worse): The German team spent the night in their locker room and adjacent shower area before finally being allowed by security forces to leave the catacombs at seven in the morning – their team bus was deemed to be too obvious and easy a target.
Over those hours, they had a lot of time to talk about a lot of things, one of them the question whether they felt like playing the next game scheduled for the following Tuesday in Hannover against The Netherlands. In the end, they decided they would, not least in order to show strength and defiance.
Terrorism is called terrorism because it aims to frighten many more people than it will ever actually kill.
Fast forward four days, on Tuesday 17 November that game was cancelled by the German authorities on the night itself, just some two hours before kick-off. Both squads were already on their way to the stadium – cue again the famous team bus. It has transpired since there had indeed been a concrete plot for another terrorist attack.
Let’s not forget one thing in this context: While the football stars of our time are promoted beyond reason, pampered beyond belief, and paid beyond comprehension, they are only in their teens or twenties. By far the oldest player on the German team in Paris was Bastian Schweinsteiger, and he is all of 31. Most of our modern-day gladiators are mere kids.
So from Hannover they all went home to their respective clubs to play there again the following weekend. And that was when not only they showed a remarkable resilience, but also the fans.
After what had happened a few days before, it would have been quite understandable if people had felt like staying at home rather than going to the games. Mass events, after all, were the perfect opportunities for further attacks.
But turn up they did, and in impressive numbers. That weekend, the top five European leagues in England, France, German, Italy, and Spain registered a total attendance of 1,386,032 spectators – all of whom had decided not to do the terrorists the favour of caving in, of being frightened, of giving up their way of life.
In every stadium that weekend (and the same scene took also place outside the respective top leagues) a minute of silence for the 130 victims was observed before kick-off. In their own way, no less than 10,000 football fans gathered for a vigil for each person killed in Paris.
And then there was one venue that celebrated a very special, even more dignified, and thereby truly unique occasion – Hamburg.
Following those 60 seconds of undisturbed quiet respect, another minute was added in commemoration of Helmut Schmidt, the former German Chancellor, a Century Man, and possibly the city’s greatest son, who had died on 10 November, and the contrast could not have been bigger. That second minute saw 57,000 people on their feet vigorously applauding – and many of them thinking, I am sure, how good it would be to have him at a time like this:
“We need a hero.”
For me, Jogi Löw and Didier Deschamps were heroic in the way they conducted themselves during the game in Paris.
Andy Warhol, admittedly in a different context (the rise of mass media and mass consumerism) is credited with saying: “In the future, everyone will be world-famous for fifteen minutes.” Of course, he was right on the money, even if I doubt he could have foreseen the emergence of today’s “social media” and the narcissism of Generation Selfie.
That said, I would maintain there is still a difference between lasting fame and ephemeral celebrity.
That night in Paris, as far as I am concerned, in spite of all their previous triumphs on the football field, the two coaches, doing what they did in the locker rooms, achieved their true “fifteen minutes of fame” – the exact duration of a half-time break in football of course. A mere coincidence? For you to judge.
They had a very tough call to make, they got it right, and they pulled it off.
They mastered the stress of looking their players in the eyes and pretending everything was business as usual, without ever having been trained how to handle such an unimaginable situation.
Technically, by the way, they chose to adhere to a principle that works well in media relations (and maybe not just there):
“Never lie, but don’t always say everything you know.”
Had one of the players asked them, “Hey Coach, those noises we heard – were they explosions?” I’m pretty sure they would have told them the truth. But of course that inquiry never came.
In an interview, if the journalist asks me a question point-blank, I will answer it truthfully. But if they don’t, guess what, there is no sense in going anywhere near something I maybe don’t really want to talk about. Which of course sounds easier than it is sometimes…
Anyhow – an interview is not an exam, you don’t do it to answer questions. You do it to tell your story. If you don’t have a story to tell, don’t do the interview.
And make sure your story is interesting, relevant, and, on a good day, compelling.
As already said, that Paris locker-room situation would have made for a great film scene with its strained attempt at conveying normalcy in the midst of deadly chaos.
Maybe even more impactful than those famous Hollywood half-time, pre-game, and pep talks that are meant to conjure up the exact opposite of “there is nothing special going on; the score is 0-0; and you know what, it’s only a friendly game anyway”.
My top three greatest sports coaches’ motivating speeches in film history?
In ascending order:
Gene Hackman as Coach Norman Dale in Hoosiers (1986)
Denzel Washington as Coach Herman Boone in Remember the Titans (2000)
And the winner is:
Al Pacino as Coach Tony d’Amato in Any Given Sunday (1999)
Since it’s a difficult choice to make, honourable mentions go to Paul Newman as Player / Coach Reggie Dunlop in Slap Shot (1977) and to Kurt Russell as Coach Herb Brooks in Miracle (2004).
Modern sports is sometimes called a surrogate for war, and I guess it speaks for the human species if we have finally learned to work out our issues without killing each other.
Famously, Scottish football Coach / Manager Bill Shankly (1913 – 1981), who celebrated his greatest successes with Liverpool, once said about his sport: “Some people believe football is a matter of life and death. I am very disappointed with that attitude. I can assure you it is much, much more important than that.”
Taunting the other local major club and its supporters, Everton, he famously also said: “This city has two great football teams – Liverpool and Liverpool Reserves.” Love it.
No wonder then, of course, that there are also great motivating speeches to be found in plays or movies set in war times.
However, different from football games, battles do not have half-time breaks during which refreshments are served. So those addresses tend to be either pre-battle rallying calls or post-battle celebrations of victory – but the latter less so as literally licking your wounds does not make you all that receptive to, and appreciative of, oratory flights of fancy. Everybody is just sweaty and tired and wants a drink.
So, you may have anticipated it, here are my top three battle speeches, again in ascending order:
Mel Gibson as William Wallace in Braveheart (1995)
Russell Crowe as Maximus in Gladiator (2000) – what a great opening scene! The rest of the film is an anti-climax.
And the winner is (hands down):
Shakespeare, Henry V, Act IV, Scene iii, 18 – 67 (aka “St Crispin’s Day Speech”, held on 25 October 1415 before the Battle of Agincourt).
Check out how Kenneth Branagh delivers it in the movie Henry V (1989):
“… This story shall the good man teach his son;
And Crispin Crispian shall ne’er go by,
From this day to the ending of the world,
But we in it shall be remembered-
We few, we happy few, we band of brothers;
For he to-day that sheds his blood with me
Shall be my brother; be he ne’er so vile,
This day shall gentle his condition;
And gentlemen in England now a-bed
Shall think themselves accurs’d they were not here,
And hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaks
That fought with us upon Saint Crispin’s day.”
Honourable mentions in this category:
Mel Gibson (again) as Colonel Hal Moore in We Were Soldiers (2002)
Russell Crowe (again) as Captain Jack Aubrey in Master and Commander: The Far Side of the World (2003): “Quick’s the word and sharp’s the action”. Any questions?
In case you were wondering, yes, the bard from Stratford-upon-Avon inspired the title of the American TV mini-series Band of Brothers (2001) that tells the story of Easy Company of the US Army 101st Airborne division and their mission in WWII Europe from Operation Overlord (the landing in Normandy in June 1944) through V-J Day (the capitulation of Japan in August 1945). And speaking of the latter, the counterpart is The Pacific (2010), less impressive I found.
So what do all these speeches have in common? Their content is interesting, relevant, and indeed compelling to their audiences. And their delivery is credible, captivating, and motivating. “Rallying the troops”, as the expression goes.
A well-known sports wisdom holds, “Big players are made in big games”. How true. And heroes are found when the hour comes.
I now have a new hero. He is not a coach nor an athlete nor a soldier. He is a member of a much, much rarer breed, sadly missing from our public lives which to a good degree explains the mess we seem to be in.
This is a Conviction Politician.
I don’t veer from my own belief that, like all politicians, he also primarily seeks to get re-elected, but on this one occasion last week he did something that I don’t think was guided by this consideration. In fact, if it was, within his own outfit, at least short-term he didn’t do himself any favour at all.
And yet, when the hour came, he stood up and delivered a speech that already a couple of days later is credited to have been one of the best in the centuries-long history of Westminster, the Mother of all Parliaments – and that’s one heck of an accolade.
Even if we don’t buy into the hyperbole – cynically speaking, maybe it is a mere reflection of the otherwise mediocre standard of the oratory in the august House of Commons and indeed other parliaments – this speech was remarkable, it was impactful, and it was brave.
In a “Big Game” debate, a big (political) player was made.
By now, you will have worked it out: I am talking about Hilary (one “l”) Benn, Labour Member of Parliament for Leeds Central since 1999, and his passionate plea in the House of Commons in support of the Conservative Government’s plans to extend the British bombing of terrorist targets from Iraq to Syria. He did this, mind, as the Shadow Foreign Secretary, a position he has held since May 2015, on the front bench of the new, somewhat different, and decidedly pacifist Labour leader, Jeremy Corbyn.
Don’t be mistaken – aged 62, Hilary Benn is no spring chicken, no rookie, and no newcomer to the game. He looks back on a long and distinguished career in British politics, having held Government offices under Prime Ministers Tony Blair and Gordon Brown between 2003 and 2010. Since then, as is the fate of members of the parliamentary Opposition, he has spent his life “in the shadows”, so to speak, last as Shadow Secretary of State for Communities and Local Government.
He also has a political pedigree second-to-none. A fourth-generation MP, his father was Tony Benn who died only last year, a Member of Parliament himself for 47 years, one of the heroes of British Labour Party and Socialist folklore, and a role model for the current party leadership.
For a wonderful take on the father-son relationship, if so inclined, read this column by Robert Shrimsley in the Financial Times of 3 December 2015: “The words Benn senior would have exchanged with his son”
http://www.ft.com/cms/s/0/c9ede92a-9913-11e5-95c7d47aa298f769.html#axzz3tZrI0Olr
And yet, until last week, Benn junior was generally viewed a “quiet and worthy figure”, but a “hitherto underwhelming politician”, or such.
Given all of the above, it is even more remarkable how Hilary Benn in the evening of 2 December 2015, making the closing speech for the Opposition in the House of Commons in the debate on British airstrikes against ISIS (or ISIL or Daesh – I never know what to call them now) in Syria, defied Corbyn and his second-in-command and political enforcer, Tom Watson, who were both menacingly sitting immediately behind him as he spoke, literally framing him on-camera, and looking anything but understanding, amused, or happy.
“The mouse,” another Labour MP remarked, “has roared.”
The following day, in its 3 December issue, the left-leaning Guardian newspaper, not supportive of the current Government, neither in general policy terms nor on this issue, felt obliged to comment: “For 15 minutes, Benn was verbal shock and awe [my emphasis – I like that phrase!]… As he sat down, many MPs on both sides of the House started clapping and cheering. Some gave him a standing ovation.”
For those of us, I included, who are not so familiar with the age-old dos and dont's of the House of Commons – this is normally an absolute no-no.
What delights me personally about this of course is to see re-established the importance of a good speech in an age obsessed with sound bites, info graphics, and tweets.
So, not unlike football coaches Löw and Deschamps, in his own much more public way Hilary Benn had his “fifteen minutes of fame”: After a lifetime in politics, he rose to the occasion, defying the pressure from his peers and his party leaders, and did what he felt was right. He followed his conviction. And he pulled it off brilliantly.
You should watch the speech: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=m_dRCzd19Uc
And don’t miss the symbolic scene at the end as he tries to sit down again on the Labour front bench between Corbyn and Watson who do not move an inch to the side to accommodate him. Speak of “body language” in the truest sense of the term.
Great drama!
The general consensus in the Labour Party afterwards was that indeed Benn had blown in those fifteen minutes any chances he might have had of ever taking over. Standing for many other similar reactions, when asked on Sky News TV whether he thought Benn would make a good Labour leader, Ken Livingstone, the former London mayor and a close ally of Corbyn’s said: “I wouldn’t vote for him, no, not after the speech he gave.”
By contrast, I probably would, yes, after the speech he gave. Because he gave it. Others may feel the same way. We shall see.
For now, he has instilled the hope in me that I may have occasion to write about other Conviction Politicians in future, thin on the ground and few-and-far-between though they are.
Football is sometimes called “The Beautiful Game”, politics never. There must be a reason.
In both fields, however, the past weeks since that Friday 13th, difficult as they were, have given me cause for joy (the packed stadia), encouragement (the Benn speech), and renewed confidence in our collective ability to join up, get our act together, and set things right.
My life motto for hard times?
“When it all comes down
We will still come through
In the long run.”
The Eagles, The Long Run (1979)
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