The problem with sports mythology and legend is that you nearly always have to win.
Stories that stand the test of time are typically reinforced by the steel of achievement. Compare Ben Stokes’ match-winning Ashes performance at Headingley to England’s losing innings.
Or how we remember Michael Jordan’s championship-winning buzzer-beater for the Bulls against the Utah Jazz in 1998 as his final NBA shot, rather than the missed lay-up for the Washington Wizards against the Philadelphia 76’ers in 2003.
And it is for this reason that I feel compelled to write about Brendan Creed’s diving save in the men’s EuroHockey Championships final.
With the Netherlands eventually winning and amidst all of the excitement and controversy that the final five minutes of the match produced, it is likely that this tremendous act of daring, athleticism, and devotion will be remembered by far too few.
Having said that, there is at least a sense of relief. For a moment that merited commentary gold equal to Barrie Davies’ “Where were the Germans?” all I could provide was the absolutely bland exclamation of “my word.”
Even better, I did it again for good measure.
All of this though is nothing to do with the main point and the purpose of my wish to at least provide one small tribute to Creed’s unbelievable tackle. Or save. No, tackle. Whatever it was.
As any player who has practiced in their garden or on their local pitch will tell you, you will always take a moment to stop and dream about that game-winning moment at the level you so desperately wish you could play at.
All of this, however, has nothing to do with the fundamental objective and goal of my desire to pay honor to Creed’s incredible tackle in any way. Save instead. No, tackle it. Whatever it had been.
Any player who has practiced in their garden or on their local pitch will tell you that you will always take a break to fantasize about that game-winning moment at the level you so dearly want to play at.
It’s the game-winning goal for the vast majority of players, who often include attackers, midfielders, some defenders, and drag-flickers. You’ll even go over it again and again. The one who wins it for the school in the final seconds, from the baseline, on the bounce, or on the reverse. A team, a club’s first team, or even your country in an Olympic final.
We’ve all done it, whether we’re a child, an adult, or a Master.
And perhaps that’s why I was at a loss for words. Because I was aware of what I had just witnessed. That wish had practically come true.
We can still try to score the winning goal as a deep defender. More likely, our moment will come when we must put our bodies on the line and somehow get stick on ball in order to rescue the day. And that’s what you think about in the yard or on the pitch by yourself. That fraction of a second, or less, when you do the impossible when all hope is lost. Brendan Creed did just that. All England had to do was keep going and win.
Unfortunately, there is where the life of a defender (and goalie) differs significantly from those of our teammates further up the field. According to an old proverb, “forwards are measured on the good things they do, and defenders on their mistakes.”
Creed could have done it five more times, but it wouldn’t have mattered. Only mistakes are remembered when you’re a defender. Unless, of course, you win.
So, Brendan Creed, this one act is unlikely to go down in history, and it is unlikely to garner you as much attention as catching a wayward tennis ball at Wimbledon.
But any worthy defender knows you’re a legend.
“My word”, I surely do.
