Odd affections
Of course, it doesn’t matter whether Aviron Bayonnais win or lose, does it? I mean, they are a rugby club in a different country; why should they make any difference to someone living in Dublin? Were I living in south-west France there might be some rationale in following the performances of one of the country’s less famous clubs, but living in Ireland, it’s just a piece of eccentricity.
I wouldn’t even have met with them had I not been scanning through fixture lists of pre-season friendly matches in July 2007 and discovered they were playing against the full Irish international team, and that match would have been unmemorable had it not been for the Irish captain receiving a broken cheekbone and the singing of the Bayonne anthem.
The anthem is one of those tunes that make the hairs stand up on the back of your neck, but there are lots of tunes like that, a tune by itself hardly prompts the following of a team’s fortunes week in week out on the club’s website. It hardly explains the childlike excitement at going to the team’s first home match of the season last Saturday week ago
I have often wondered at colleagues who developed passionate interests in unlikely things – steam railways, ancient buildings, obscure books, esoteric scholarship – but perhaps there is a thread running through it. Perhaps it is about investing one’s feelings in things that are impersonal and even remote.
Isn’t there a process in psychology called ‘transference’ where feelings get redirected? Maybe it’s something similar that is going on amongst clergy when there seems to be inordinate enthusiasm for odd things.
Perhaps it is a way of coping with the pain of some the stuff that has to be dealt with and with the isolation that comes from never ever being able to share things heard. Whether it’s a 1940s steam locomotive, or an Australian out-half called Edmonds kicking a goal from over the halfway line, it is stuff that is going on out there, it is stuff that can’t hurt you.
The colleague whom I most respect in the whole of our church once passed by an encounter, that many people would have regarded as an opportunity of a lifetime, in order to spend a day travelling around the steam railways of Kent. He spoke with delight of his meeting with the men who kept those lines going; he had not one moment of regret for not accepting the invitation he had declined. It seemed an odd decision yet if we are surviving by transference, or whatever process it might be, then there was sense in the choice.
Bayonne are currently second in the table having won their first three matches. Maybe it does matter.
That match sounded fun, Ian
You’ve made me hanker after some 6-nations action.
I think these odd eccentricities in terms of the clergy could be a reaction to the restrictions imposed by your working life? It’s about ‘freedom of choice’, a way of escape from the isolation imposed by the necessity for confidentiality. I suspect that eccentricity is rife in the medical profession as well.