MANY OF the successful athletes I interview seem to have a sibling or two in their sporting stories. This is hardly surprising, I suppose. The first sporting contests of most of our lives tend to be with our brothers and sisters. There are exceptions to this, such as my own daughters. At no stage did either of them, as far as I recall, voluntarily get into any kind of sporting encounter with each other, or anyone else for that matter. They are now moving into adulthood displaying no interest whatsoever in watching or playing sport. I’ve no idea why my enthusiasm for playing and watching sport hasn’t rubbed off on them. I can’t imagine what it was about seeing me so often returning home from West Brom, or after a round of golf, in utter despair, that so put them off sport.

No, bar the odd outbreak of biting and scratching, physical contests between my kids were very rare indeed. Not so between me and my brother, who is three years younger than me. From a very early age, we engaged in forms of combat resembling street fights, but without any rules at all. This suited me just fine as my inbuilt age, height and weight advantages consistently saw me emerge victorious. This continued to be the case until he caught up with me, height- and weight-wise, in our mid teens and my victories were getting tighter and tighter. It was at this point that I announced my retirement from the fratricidal fight game. I therefore can be considered the undefeated, undisputed fighting champ of the two of us. It’s a title, a crown, or a belt I suppose, that I will never relinquish. Truly, I am a winner.