Being There

I recall watching guitar legend B.B. King on television over the Christmas break. It was late night and I can’t remember the exact circumstances in which I listened to him play and sing. I am not a B.B. King fan and never have been, other than immensely liking ‘Stand By Me,’ his seminal song.

I have found watching him in recent times, as his career declines, an act of extreme irritation with his easy come, easy go manner. Nevertheless, there he was on stage at some sort of compilation concert and he was doing his thing, which usually involves a few trademark licks as intro to a song before abandoning the fret board in lieu of singing.

At some point in the song he will effortlessly incorporate another guitar lick or solo. It was during his mid song guitar solo, he played just two notes amongst many, that hung for a moment on sustain, in the air, like early morning mist over a lake. They were beautiful, a truly outstanding moment in a sea of musical casualness. It’s the sort of moment one lives for, which comes every now and again like a rare butterfly in summer from exceptional artists and talent.

Now what has all this to do with rugby and for a moment, still entranced, I struggle to recall. Upon thinking about it, I realise that as in music there are moments like this in rugby when truly great players conjure up magic amidst the run of the mill. I struggled to think of a current Ulster player who would fit this synopsis and no disrespect we do not have any, though it would be ‘Ferris’ to say that we have a few who portend to greatness that comes with maturity.

Ireland do possess one player whom, despite a declining physical prowess still possesses that unique ability to produce match winning magic, a turnover or a sleight of hand that can both surprise and delight.

Brian O’Driscoll’s game has changed visibly over the years from when he first arrived on the international scene with Ireland and the Lions. No longer is there the acceleration over the first 10 metres that we were used to seeing, so crucial to top class backs and which left opponents grasping thin air. It has been replaced with a mature approach which owes as much to the rugby brain as to the physical.

O’Driscoll now has the ability to arrive in key areas of the game at key times. Defensively his game has matured and he is now as well known for his repelling of attackers as he was for attacking rugby. Of recent times in big games he has battled solidly in midfield without setting the game on fire only to appear at crucial moments to seal a victory or save defeat.

The Autumn Internationals are a classic of those keynotes struck at the right moment. With prescient accuracy his last gasp try against Australia saved Ireland from defeat and his last gasp wholly committed tackle against the Springboks ensured victory. It made O’Driscoll stand out amongst other very good performers on the day. Gone are the days of waltzing through defenders to score tries, stunning for their execution and sheer chutzpah. With age and maturity O’Driscoll has re-invented his game to ensure his longevity in the pantheon of rugby greats.

O’Driscoll reminds me of the guitar great and legend in his own lifetime Eric Clapton. With a languorous but deceptive ease, Clapton these days plays the guitar in a state of controlled animation and no less technical skill.  Gone are the drug fuelled ecstatic guitar licks which burned the fretboard and anything within its orbit. Clapton these plays with the aura of one who has served his apprenticeship, the greatness being earned and doesn’t require to be proved every time he straps on a guitar. I’m not suggesting by the way, O’Driscoll’s early career was drug fuelled by comparing him with Clapton but my comparison is he has an aura of greatness that doesn’t require elaboration when he plays the game.

I suggested no one player at Ulster has that greatness tag but I do believe that Steven Ferris has the potential for glory and a seat in the modern pantheon of rugby greats. His game at present very much relies on athletic power, physicality and of course a decent rugby brain.

Mainly though he stands out for his physicality as a blindside flanker who has speed off the mark that belies his size, can run a bit, pass the ball and of course stop opponents dead in their tracks. With maturity and as the top edge of the raw physicality declines Steven Ferris has the brain to adapt his game away from sheer athleticism into a more rounded rugby player whose rugby brain will take him to places his feet once fearlessly tread.

He requires to bring greater consistency to his game and of course preserve his body against the rigours of modern rugby which now serve up an intensity in physicality not nearly so evident in the amateur era.   If he can stay injury free he will I believe mature into a modern day legend in world rugby.

For now we must believe in the seeds of greatness so evident in Ferris’s game on Saturday night against Munster and hope that we will be privileged to watch it grow.  We the unprepossessing spectator can often be too mindful of the moment and oblivious to the flowering of sporting excellence as we waft in the wind of sport’s vagaries.

Yet within this decade we have been privileged to witness a sporting great play for Ireland and another potential begin the path to glory and sporting idoldom.  These are the moments when we gasp with awe and sporting legends of yesteryear shake their heads in disbelief and wonder what if they had been out there.

Just being there is a privilege, lost in the moment maybe, but relived a thousand times in years to come.  Like B.B. King’s two notes, us sporting fans live for the sporting moment when the right chord is struck with all the dexterity of an artist on top their game.

As B.J. Botha might say, ‘have you seen me lately?’

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