FRENCH NOTES:Sport has its place but despite the famous quote from Bill Shankly it is not as important as life or death, writes MATT WILLIAMS

SITUATED ABOVE the exit door at the training ground of the Wests Tigers NRL team in Sydney, was a giant sign that read: “There are plenty of doors out of professional sport. Do not take any of them.”

The sign, hung there by the coaching staff, was aimed at reminding players about maintaining the correct professional attitudes and standards required for success. The “exit doors” referred to were attitudes like complacency, shoddiness and falling into a comfort zone.

The loss of contracts and the end of their playing career is rightly dreaded by athletes. Athletes live daily with the unwelcome travelling companion of career-ending injury. That exit door is ever present. The ultimate exit of death is never considered. It is never spoken of or allowed to enter into the mind.

Life as a professional sportsman is good. You are paid well to do something you love. Society places you on a pedestal that, in reality, you have yet to earn. Your body and your mind are trained to perform and live a life style vastly different to the rest of society.

You are mostly feted in the media. You are idolised by children and applauded by the fans. Surly you can not die? Not now? This is the human condition but in professional sport it is exaggerated and distorted by what many of us refer to as “the bubble”.

That is the unreal environment in which professional sportsmen live.

The wider community glare at these contact sport gladiators as objects, not people. Like the those who attended the coliseums of ancient times, fans willingly suspend their disbelief and see the games as real battles and those involved as not of the real world. The fans set the athletes apart and see them as god-like, when they run, collide and free themselves from the laws that bind the rest of us in the mortal masses.

The results of games are important. When our team loses a “big” game, it is described as a “tragedy” and those involved are culpable in the communities’ eyes.

It is only in moments of searingly uncomfortable confrontation that this warped reality is brought to heel for both the masses and the athletes.

Nevin Spence’s death, with its unbearable sadness and shock is such a moment. Our attitudes were adjusted. Our understanding of the truly important aspects of life was reaffirmed in an instant. Rugby was not important in any way. People were important.

I felt the helplessness of death’s finality. I could not fathom the enormous suffering that Nevin’s mother must be undergoing. It is truly unimaginable.

Sport can disappoint and let you down, but despite the famous quote from Bill Shankly, it is not as important as life or death.

Nevin’s death and that of his father and brother is a real tragedy. Never is a sporting result tragic.

When you play rugby you have stewardship of the game not ownership. You are privileged to wear the jersey for a brief moment in your life before you pass it on to the next generation. Nevin wore the Ulster jersey with distinction. The Ulster jersey he passes on, far too early, is of greater value for him having worn it.

But that is mere sport.

What can never be replaced is Nevin himself. His uniqueness, his individuality, his spirit. The loss of his potential for life, far beyond sport’s limited boundaries, is where the real tragedy lies.

Nevin was in the Ulster Academy when I first met him. He was 18 years old and glowing with life. Neil Doak was singing his praises so I had him attend the senior team training. Neil has developed into an excellent coach and has a great eye for rugby talent. He was spot on with his summation of Nevin.

As we say in Australia, as a rugby player Nevin “was a good ’un”. Yet my clearest memory of Nevin Spence was a day when my then 14-year-old son came to Ulster training. As always at the end of the session, Neil had Isaac Boss and Paul Marshall practising box kicks. My son Teddy and Nevin were catching and returning the kicks.

At dinner that night Teddy told that me Nevin took time to talk to him, making him feel comfortable, making him laugh and feel welcome. Teddy said Nevin was a really nice man.

Nevin’s gesture of kindness and welcome to a young boy tells us more about the man than any words about the player.

I know the Ulster team and the local community well. They are good, honest people. Paddy Wallace, Tom Court, Rory Best, Stephen Ferris, Andy Trimble and the the rest of the Ulster team are all excellent rugby players, but more importantly they are wonderful men. I know they and all in Ulster Rugby will be there for the Spence family on the long road that faces them in the days to come.

These actions of support and help are far more important than any action taken for a mere game of sport.