The whole cowboy scene is overrated anyway. My cowboy belt only taught me
one useful thing: fresh leather is pink. Sure, it tans with sweat, weather
and horse manure. Sure, itís sold pre-tanned in your average
wannabe-a-cowboy store. But underneath it allóand remember this when youíre
staring down the rodeo star whose hat you accidentally trod onóitís pink.
As to soccer: most young soccer stars end up with knee injuries. At junior
school, only two other players could call themselves my equals. Richard and
Adam. They didnít give up like me, didnít subside into rugby, field hockey
and then a long career in the amateur non-competitive activities world. They
stuck with it. They attended training camps, hunted scouts. Now they both
have knee injuries. Like I said. What are they going to do when their kids
want a piggy-back run down the hill? Not my problem.
Rock music fame, though. Aye, thereís the rub. That star still twinkles
iíthe night. You can never go wrong with good olírock, to quote Hamlet or
Homer or whoever it was. If I had to choose between you and a packed Wembley
stadium (knee-injury capital of the world but also not a bad concert space),
packed with the kind of fans that shut up and listen, wellÖit would be
tight. I canít tell you which way it would go, but it would be tight.
Some are born ridiculous. Some become ridiculous. Some just start thrusting
ridiculously. And all of us have got to dream about that, once in a while.
Tom Howell knows almost nothing about Ice Hockey.