Duncan Harley

When I first moved to the capital of the Garioch I was warned by a Tesco checkout operative that George Square was a noisy place to be. Backing on to the Academy playing-fields the AB51 post-code seemingly attracted screaming lunchtime children and lost cricket balls into the adjoining gardens. I recall saying something like “I really like the sound of children enjoying themselves, after all I was once one myself.” The till operative seemed bemused at my reply and has since been retired – or so I am led to believe. I did enjoy the daily spectre of lost balls and, on occasion even got to throw them back into the field at the bottom of my garden. In fact, on one occasion, a trio of enthusiastic cricketers rang the front door-bell intent on retrieving the object of their desire. “Is it ok if we go into your garden to look for our ball” they asked. “Of course, go for it!” came the reply. I have not seen the lads since and hope that they both found the ball and made it...

Mark Jackson’s take on the beautiful game, of rugby, is a welcome distraction from that stereotypical play on sweating giants in short shorts which generally populates the sporting-fiction bookshelf. Set against a backdrop of rarefied privilege in the lead up to the 1924 Paris Olympiad the story follows American student Jack Morgan as, on the trail of burning ambition, he vows to secure selection for the US Olympic team. Along the way he must pick up a Rugby Blue, bag the girl of his dreams and, of course, win that Gold. Following a meeting at Stamford University, during which he accepts the challenge “Climb that Everest and perchance other mountains may be scaled”, he secures a scholarship at Oxford and sets off on his quest. Morgan is young, wealthy and gifted. When he arrives at Oxford in 1923, he is paired, by the sniffy College porter, with new room-mate Saul Warburg. “What are you here for?” asked Morgan “Isn’t it obvious? Law. It’s the Inns of Court for Saul W...