I hesitated about plucking this one off the shelf at the local charity shop recently. Humphries was my favourite sports columnist as a kid. He is now a convicted paedophile (arrested, tried and convicted a number of years after the publication of this book).
Is it possible to separate the artist from the art? My wife encouraged me to buy and read the book on the basis that the charity shop (which was in Switzerland and had this likely stocked the book completely oblivious to the writer’s crimes) would benefit from the proceeds.
Humphries was an outstanding talent. The longer, colour pieces on Jack Charlton’s day out at the seaside with his mother Cissy or the visit to the Ó hAilpín family home in Blarney stand out for their tenderness and humanity. Whether he’s depicting a Munster hurling final in Thurles or the Winter Olympics in Lillehammer, it feels like you have been transported to the very place itself, breathing the air. His typically laconic wit is weaved throughout.
That such an extraordinary talent would destroy his career through his own disgusting and cruel acts is certainly a loss to sports journalism. More importantly, however, I think of his victim and hope she has found healing and joy in life once again.