England’s Martin Johnson has been told that he has £20m to pay to his rugby team this year – provided that they do well both in the pre-Christmas ‘friendlies’ and also the Six Nations in the New Year.

I mention this only a day after I received a letter from reader Jack Barnett who wanted me to comment on Kevin Pietersen, the England cricket captain, who led his team to Antigua recently believing that if they won against Sir Allen Stanford’s superstars they would walk away after a three hour Twenty20 match and return with a cool $20m between them.

This is just part of the letter he sent to me: ‘As a Yorkshireman I am appalled that the ECB can sell out our best loved national game to a Texas speculator . . . and I condemn this prostitution of the national game because if we let this Texas millionaire bribe people to play in his circus, the game of cricket will die on its feet.’

So can we blame the England team for taking the lure of money, even though they ultimately lost by ten wickets? As someone who was only ever given items of kit and an occasional drink for his sport, I wonder what I would do if I was tempted by a million dollars for one day’s work? – Perhaps the first thing I might do would be to read about who was paying the money.

In this case it was Sir Allen, who explained his interest in sport as follows: ‘We’re in the wealth management business and cricket is played out to the world that we deal with. Sport is about entertainment, pure and simple. Sport is about money, pure and simple, and people want to come and be entertained. If it doesn’t have those things in place, it won’t have a future.’

But IS sport purely about money? $20 million dollars for a day’s work compared to £20m for the England rugby team’s entire season? And then I look again at the differences between the two sports. Now I know that cricket can be dangerous (one of my wife’s relatives has been wheelchair-bound for life, since he was hit on the head by a cricket ball when he was at school).

However, I was much taken by recent reports on two men, both in their 20s, who were confined to a wheelchair through rugby injuries. One of them eventually opted for suicide yet the other, Matt Hampson, who was more badly injured and still has no sensation in his limbs explained: ‘My favourite film is The Shawshank Redemption about a man condemned to a life in jail. There’s a quote in it which says: “You get busy living or get busy dying”. That is the grim reality you are left with when you find yourself paralysed in a wheelchair.
Feeding tube

‘One of the best things that happened in the early days was when my rugby mates came and took me to the pub. I was on the ventilator and I had a feeding tube up my nose but I had some beer and it was wonderful to feel normal again, to be in the pub and talking about rugby. ‘. . . funnily enough, when I do dream, I am never in a wheelchair. I’m always running, and often playing rugby.’

Matt doesn’t feel sorry for himself although he needs constant 24-hour attention. His girlfriend left him (‘I can’t blame her for that’); he raises money for charity and feels he’s a better bloke than before, because ‘sportsmen are selfish. You are thinking of yourself all the time.’

He feels that his injury has made him more considerate to others and he refuses to dwell in self-pity.
And how much do they anticipate that it will cost to see Matt Hampson live, hopefully, to a ripe old age? – £8m. About half the amount that Sir Allen was willing to pay to either team for an afternoon’s game of cricket.
Yet . . . to be perfectly honest, if anyone was daft enough to offer me $1m to play a game of Twenty20, well, yes, I’d probably take it. I have a family to think about. But after I’d banked the money, I wonder how much I would have liked myself for selling my ‘principles’ for the philosophy that: ‘Sport is about money, pure and simple.’

When we consider the two words ‘pure’ and ‘simple’ are we talking here about sport, money, or people?
 I will let the readers make up their own minds and will end this opening comment piece with another few words from Mr Barnett, who questioned captain Kevin Pietersen for saying, afterwards: ‘We were not focused and we were also distracted.’ Jack’s withering reply is: ‘Good job then that he’s not an airline pilot or the captain of a ship!’ – Always trust a ‘Yorkie’ for some of the best put-down lines, is what I say.

Time to bid farewell to the Garden path
Late on Saturday night I listened to the fight between one of Wales’ finest ever sportsmen, light-heavyweight Joe Calzaghe, as he beat Roy Jones Jr at the Madison Square Gardens.

Afterwards – and having won 46 fights in a row – Calzaghe (36) was asked if he’d ever box again. He said that he would think about it and the name of a younger boxer, Chad Dawson was mentioned as a possible challenger, perhaps at the Millennium Stadium in Wales.

Don’t do it, Joe. You don’t need the money. And don’t you realise that in ANY sport, as you get older, there’s always someone younger than you, simply itching to have the chance of taking your crown? You beat one young man but there’s always another, and another, all waiting in line.

So go out at the top, and be content to do so with your looks in fairly decent shape and your nose remarkably unscathed, considering the sport. Also, congratulations for paying tribute to Jones whose badly gashed eye meant that he was boxing most of the fight, literally, seeing red.

‘I want to pay tribute to Roy, a great fighter – and my friend,’ said Calzaghe. Strange ‘friendship’ when you try to box his face to a pulp, but the Welshman was being genuine in his admiration, and in offering his friendship. Yet . . . as this column has been largely about money this week, wouldn’t YOU step into the ring with the world’s best light-heavyweight and risk your nose being smeared around, for nine and a half million quid?

Madeira set a high standard
Before a rather sad postscript this week, ‘well done’ to the Jersey Football Association for laying on a superb three-team tournament last weekend. For the administrators, the players and the managers behaved impeccably and the Madeiran boys in particular impressed me by the way they never questioned a referee’s decision and, even when knocked down, got up and simply carried on with the game.

Also, congratulations on the Sunday afternoon to the Portuguese in the crowd. Unlike some of the other Islanders, they stood up for both national anthems when Jersey played Madeira; were loud, in a good-hearted way, during the match, and didn’t seem to want to go home afterwards, when their team had won.

As a friend said to me during the game: ‘why is it that the only time a Jersey crowd generates any kind of atmosphere is at a Muratti’? – Last weekend, the Portuguese 500 showed how it should be done.

A true rugby man
Postscript: On the subject of rugby my thoughts are extended to the family and friends of former Banks’ player, Jerry King.

Last Friday along with some past players even older than me, we met up and celebrated his life and reminisced about the person he was and the kind of game he played. My comment was that I always preferred being on his team rather than playing against him and that 57 was, in this day and age, too young an age to die.

Then, on Sunday, at Grainville in a game between a Wanderers’ and a veteran Banks we all stood in silence for a minute at the start of the game in tribute to his life. The silence was immaculate; a total tribute.

Now Jerry didn’t have any kind of sidestep – he much preferred the direct approach – but he was very much a rugby man and he will be sorely missed for his commitment to sport and for the love of his team. And the game, won 50-0 by Wanderers (who had the audacity to field players barely into their 40s!) wasn’t a sombre affair – that was the last thing Jerry would have wanted.

And to my mind one of the most affectionate tributes to the man was that although, in his playing days, he’d often be playing for a Banks’ team which could barely raise enough players for a football XI, let alone a rugby XV; on Sunday there were 23 Banks’ players available (something of a record!) and over 100 supporters, some of whom (as in their playing days) had brought their boots along ‘just in case’. Affection, like rugby players, comes in all shapes and sizes and, to my way of thinking, that can’t be bought, no matter how much money you have in the bank.

Professionalism both on and off the court
Last weekend I was at the Airport to greet my daughter, who was briefly back over in Jersey. As I waited patiently in the Arrivals Hall, my eyes were much taken by a desk, above which were several notices including: ‘Jersey welcomes officials and players to the ATP Men’s Challenge and Ladies’ ITF Tournament’ and ‘Official and Player Registration’.

From a week ago today until this Tuesday the desk was manned, mainly by Guernsey’s Di Hudson and Jersey’s Charlotte Raymond. There were also drivers, like Nathan Maguire, to take the visiting tennis players to their hotels or to the LTA world ranking tournament.

I mention this because although there were up to 300 potential ‘foreigners’ arriving and departing (many of whom could not speak English), this was one of the first times that I have seen such courtesy (and downright common sense) at the Airport. Most sports events, however big and small, begin with an anxious official or two, hovering at the glass plate doors at arrivals, asking strangers who they are and if they need any help.

Now a desk, plus signs professionally drawn and sited and a checking-in book, plus a constant stream of drivers . . . that IS Jersey showing professionalism in sport, and common courtesy, at its best.