TWO weeks ago I had the good fortune to be at a rugby charity dinner in the idyllic setting of St George’s, in a marquee set up in the school grounds.

Also present were some of the present and past Leicester Tigers including, on our table, Rory Underwood.

Having seen him last at Twickenham, on the wing for England, I mentioned that one abiding picture of him is of his scoring a try by diving around a player and, one-handedly, touching down.

‘Against Australia,’ he said, promptly. And then, for some reason I noticed the size of his hands.

They reminded me of my grandfather’s – much larger than you would expect on a player as slight as Underwood (he’s 5 ft 8 in tall).

It would have been churlish of me to comment on them at the table but afterwards I realized that if a rugby player’s hands – particularly those belonging to a winger – are small, then the player himself will have difficulty in running with the ball in one hand and will find it virtually impossible to dive over the try line with it (as Underwood did) at full stretch to score.

Similarly if you have large hands I presume it is an advantage at other ball sports, for example netball, while we all know that paddle-sized hands (and feet) are an advantage if you want to be a good, fast swimmer. That’s one of the reasons why my cousins did swim at national level and now swim in the world Masters’ championships.

Both of them are women in their 50s and probably won’t like me for commenting on that legacy from my grandfather – hands so big and powerful that one day he broke off the gear stick in the car he was learning to drive in.

Last Sunday I was at Bel Royal, early, for the Jersey Triathlon where the main talking point was: ‘why did last year’s winner, Nick Saunders, turn up late?’ – ie at 7.10 am when the race began at seven.

After all, he had been at the previous day’s briefing and on his website he had highlighted the race as one of the ones he was training for.

Almost certainly he would have won but instead he simply turned around and left.
In one way Nick’s tardiness cleared the field for the others and Nick Le Cocq was able, after seven attempts, to be first past the line. There is, perhaps, some irony in the fact that Le Cocq’s trainer is . . . Saunders, while I was much taken by Gail King’s belief that Jersey is a good race to run (and win) because ‘unlike Guernsey, where I know all of the other girls, I never know who’s going to be racing over here.’

Familiarity doesn’t necessarily breed contempt, but that’s an inevitability about living on an island – you know everyone else and if you are the best there is it’s harder to motivate yourself. And Gail is good – very, very good – just as Saunders would probably have won the men’s race if he’d just turned up a tiny bit sooner.

Finally, on the subject of triathlon, I was delighted for the youngsters, who had a race of their own.

‘Couldn’t have happened in England,’ I was told afterwards.

‘Why not?’ I replied in a surprised tone.

‘They’re not allowed to swim in the sea. Health and Safety. Too dangerous,’ I was told.

This, the same day that I read an e-mail from the Jersey Long Distance Swimming Club about three ten-year-olds swimming two miles along the coast (properly chaperoned with nominated experienced escort swimmers plus sea kayakers for support.

And, according to the JLDSC’s Charlie Gravett: ‘There is also an elder with a pair of binoculars and a maritime VHF radio for contact with the coastguards on the slipway, should that be necessary who has a list of those entering the water and they get checked both in and out. For longer swims we inform the coastguards on entry and exit.’)

As a youngster I’d quite happily swim two or three miles in the sea on holiday and think nothing about it and, like these three younger swimmers, I loved every minute of it . . . the difference being that with the ignorance of youth I never considered what I’d do if I got into any difficulties and, come to think of it, my parents didn’t seem to worry about it either!

Meanwhile, last Saturday I had the fortune to watch some of the world’s best young squash players including eventual winners of the BSPA’s grand prix finals, Laura Massaro, No 9 in the world, and Alan Selby, No 21.

Three impressions came into mind afterwards. First, that Selby was never going to lose to Scotland’s No 1, Alan Clyne. Not only was his body language very different to Clyne’s before they went on court. But Selby had told me, in a direct, very open way that he would win before he left the changing room. And he did, in three sets.

Second impression was a realisation that some of the rallies went on for minutes, not seconds. Even Massaro’s match against Emma Beddoes, ranked 36 in the world, saw the opening rally last for over 35 shots while both men were hitting 40-plus shots before the point was decided.

Third impression was afterwards. For neither winning player were breathless or, come to that, sweating profusely.

But then if, like Laura, you’re a full-time pro training six days a week with ambitions to make the next Commonwealth Games, that’s understandable.

Elsewhere, for a 19-year old Jersey archer, Lucy O’Sullivan, to represent Great Britain at the senior archery world championships is tremendous, even if she was knocked out in the second round of the compound head-to-head competition. But there is surely no disgrace in that. After all, the woman who beat her was the world’s No 1 seed Linda Ochoa, from Mexico.

Finally, tomorrow Jersey RFC take on North Walsham after losing to Bracknell last week.
So why did Jersey lose when Bracknell’s chairman Ian Hallam rate them the best team he’d seen at their place in the last two years and thought, after the first ten minutes, his team were ‘going to get a stuffing’.

Jersey coach Ben Harvey put it in perspective and I was much taken by what he said; a comment which applies to all sports, including triathlon and squash.

‘The team turned up to play (rugby) but they didn’t turn up to win.’

And there is a huge difference between the two. Just ask Massaro and Selby.