Planet Jupitus: Not exactly the finest raconteurs in sport

Many years ago I made a pilot show for Radio 5 Live, which necessitated an interview with Vinnie Jones. On the day, he hunkered down at the green baize studio table looking up at me from under his brow. It was a look that said, “If you try and turn me over, I, the massive and powerful Vinnie Jones, will hurt you, Phillip Jupitus.”

I wondered how many young midfield players must have seen those same cold eyes in the tunnel at Wimbledon before staggering out on to the field with their heart hammering against their ribcage. The result of this imagined threat was that my anodyne whimsy bounced off him like ping-pong balls off a rhinoceros. He wasn’t exactly charismatic, but he did come across as a character — and that seems all too rare these days.

Footballers now have seemingly been so firmly coached on what to say, that they might as well be reading a press release. Why don’t we ever get to see their passion for the game articulated anywhere but on the pitch?

For example, I miss Ian Wright on my telly. Like a toddler jacked up on tartrazine, he would bounce around and say exactly what he thought with scant regard for accuracy or, indeed, grammar. His jokes were awful and his clothes spectacular. It comes to something when you’re watching Match Of The Day and you realise that Alan Hansen is the lively one now.

Once in a while, I find myself in close proximity to a footballer, and I would now like to pass on what little I have gleaned from these encounters. First, stand still, their vision is based on movement. Also try not to talk about football straight away, that’s like going up to Buzz Aldrin and saying, “So . . . the moon, eh!” Strike up some gentle banter about cars and music and then see what happens. It’s absurd to imagine that in addition to their physical prowess, they’re going to turn out to be sparkling raconteurs, too.

That said, once your footballer has warmed up, he may well surprise you with a lengthy diatribe on the sub-prime credit scandal or an in-depth knowledge of the films of John Cassavetes. But, in all likelihood, that probably won’t happen. Remember, at the end of the day, these men are the same boys who were good at PE, got all the girls and copied your maths homework.

PHILL JUPITUS