SIDELINE CUT:So the latest St Patrick's Day visit to the White House won't do anything to get the country out of a black hole . . . at least Our Man looks the part, writes KEITH DUGGAN
THE LIFE of the world leader is undoubtedly demanding and complex but as David Cameron and Barack Obama enjoyed their international pow-wow this week, it was clear that acting as poster boys for middle-age male fitness and vanity now comes with the job description. It’s just as well our Enda likes to start his Sunday mornings with a bowl of muesli and a swift jog up and down Croagh Patrick.
For as the camera bulbs flashed to capture the warm handshake between Obama and Cameron, it was easy to see the American and the Englishmen were sizing one another up. It was hard to avoid the conclusion that Dave’s Etonian smile just about concealed his irritation with the fact that Obama was somehow even more ripped than the last time they met.
Even in sober presidential day-attire, Obama manages to radiate a kind of casual athleticism and good health. The big O didn’t even have to cast a casual glance towards the Englishman’s midriff to let the latter know he knew he’d been over-indulging in the Yorkshire pud’. And the camera never lies. The two statesmen turned to face the cameras and let us, the jury, make up our own minds.
Obama makes no secret of the fact he likes to work out. Barely had he won the Democratic nomination than it became obvious that even though he was involved in winning an election that would represent a landmark moment in world history, he wasn’t going to forget to bench at least 80kg and run 10k before six in the morning. Once the Obamas lives became public property, it was established that Michelle and Barack were gym bunnies and that the skinny guy liked sport, particularly football and basketball.
During his generally flawless campaign, one of his many smart moves was to grant Rick Reilly, the influential ESPN columnist, some time on the campaign bus. Reilly had sent a request to each candidate asking them to sit down with him to choose a fantasy football team. They would have a fantasy $50 million to spend. Obama was the only one who agreed to the lark.
When Reilly was ushered into the campaign bus, all the television screens were turned to ESPN. The would-be president was sitting reading a newspaper. “Hey man, I’ll be with you in a second,” he said. “I’m poring over the latest economic news,” making it obvious he was mulling over the NFL stats in USA Today.
In the column Reilly wrote, Obama came across as funny and as a genuine football fan: it was an instant connection with blue collar masses in the heartland – the men who sit at the bar in Derek Zoolander’s home town.
Since he moved into the Oval Office, he has become the president who likes sport. Just a few weeks ago, he sat down for a long man-to-man chat with Bill Simmons, another heavyweight in sports media, about everything from his daughter’s basketball team to why Omar was the best character in The Wire. It was the kind of conversation, in other words, that thousands of men have in thousands of bars across the United States and the world.
When David Cameron burst onto the scene, he was often photographed out jogging as part of the Tories-Are-People-Too campaign. In one of the most famous photos he is running down a rain-lashed Brighton pier during a storm. The man can hardly help it that his running style is inherently posh: he runs down the famous Brighton landmark as if he owns it. But the vitality was all part of the image of a new type of Conservative: a Tory “guy”.
Dave has been an Aston Villa fan since he was 13. And he is game for any sport! During his US visit, Barack treated him to a night out at a college basketball game. Dave has vowed to take Obama to see a cricket game on his return visit. And it isn’t just confined to the American and the English man.
It is not uncommon to see Nicolas Sarkozy in full Speedo mode on the beach during his summer holidays. And the world has grown bored of photos of Vladimir Putin diving into Siberian lakes or hearing about his judo exploits. The message is hardly subtle. These are all important men. They want to do their best for their country and for the benighted planet. And they want to look good doing it.
It wasn’t always this way. What do you think would have happened if Winston Churchill had been “papped” emerging from the Bournemouth seaside in his swimsuit circa 1940? Talk about “fright them on the beaches”. You can be sure if that photograph reached Berlin, they would have changed their minds about invading Britain. JFK was probably the first to really sell the outdoors life but in recent times, they are all at it.
That was one of the many difficulties faced by former taoiseach, Brian Cowen. The Offaly man never went in for trying to achieve that I-just-went-for-five-sets-with-Rafa-Nadal glow that Barack and Dave prize. But Cowen genuinely loved sport and anyone who ever saw him standing chatting during the half-time cupán tae at O’Connor Park Tullamore instinctively knew he was happier there than chin-wagging with the Big O at 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue.
Cowen actually had something to boast about in sport; he played football for Offaly. When the Obamas came to Offaly last year, the most poignant image was of the former taoiseach standing on the rainy streets of Moneygall, just an ordinary (if staggeringly well-pensioned) citizen now. It seems likely that Michelle or Barack may have caught a glimpse of him as they swept by in their limousine. “Didn’t we meet that guy somewhere, hon?” “Uhhh . . . looks familiar.”
So it goes. But as Enda goes to Washington, Ireland can at least say that our man is as buffed as the rest of them. It seems strange that Mr Kenny’s radiant outdoorsy-ness and his vigour went unnoticed through all of those years when he was on the opposition benches. Leadership casts people in a different light. At times over the past year Enda has looked almost . . . Clooneyesque.
After a year in office, the Castlebar man has been glowing with good health and vitality (True, the rest of the nation has become ashen with worry and stress but you can’t have everything). Enda is 60 years old. He is in the same bracket as Arnold Schwarzenegger, the Terminator himself. Who would you fancy to win in an arm wrestle now?
Okay, so you would plump for Arnie to not just win but possibly inflict serious ligament damage on the Fine Gael man. But the point is the Taoiseach would not look out of place on a Vanity Fair cover of the world’s most buffed politicians.
You just know that Michelle and Barack approve not only of his cheerful nature; they also dig his calorific intake. And when Enda comes bounding into the White House and greets the President with that unnervingly bracing handshake of his – there is always that split second when you fear he is about to break into a jive – Obama will be left in no doubt he is meeting someone with energy levels similar to his own.
It helps that Enda can talk sport until the cows come home. He comes from a blue blood Mayo football family. And chances are Enda could regale Obama with the stories of the vintage years for Ballina basketball.
So the latest St Patrick’s Day visit to the White House won’t do anything to get the country out of the black hole. But at least as we drown our sorrows we can take consolation that Our Man looks the part. And don’t underestimate the importance of that.
In the old days, when the political leaders met for conferences, they spent their nights swotting policy documents. Now, they just hit the deck and count out a thousand crunches.
“Lookin’ good, Mr Taoiseach.”
“Feelin’ good, Mr President.”
Top o’ the mornin’ to you all.
