The Sports Journalists' Association has launched a new annual award, for young sportswriters, to be called the Ian Wooldridge trophy. Named after the Daily Mail writer, who died earlier this year, it will be presented at the March 17 awards event. Details here.
The SJA is also offering a special deal on Wooldridge's book, Searching for Heroes, which showcases his Mail writings over 45 years. Example: "Meeting Idi Amin, Semlike Uganda, 1976"
As befits any humanitarian who only that morning had stepped straight from the breakfast table to save seven men from the firing squad, His Excellency Field-Marshal Doctor Idi Amin Dada, VC, DSO, MC, was in benevolent mood.
The blades of his armour-plated helicopter had barely stopped spraying dust in our faces before he lumbered forward, hand extended, and said: "My aides tell me you have come from London to discuss my boxing career."
This was not necessarily the whole truth but one does not readily contradict a 19-stone statesman with a gun at his hip, even though he has recently been cleared of an allegation of murdering not fewer than 25,000 of his brother Ugandans. "That is correct, sir," I said.
Respectfully, his large entourage of Ministers, Permanent Secretaries and some unspecified gentlemen whose perspiration flow appeared to be impeded by shoulder-holsters fell silent as President Amin began to recall his days as a pugilist. In some respects they were more remarkable than Muhammad Ali's.
"I first won the heavyweight championship of Uganda in 1951," he said. "Then in 1952, I became champion of all East Africa." The President then added that he held both titles until 1962, which seemed a fairly safe cue to ask the name of the man who had the presumption to beat him.
"Nobody beat me," the Field-Marshal replied. "You retired, then?" "No, I did not retire. I am still heavyweight champion of Uganda. Nobody is willing to fight me."
At this the 48-year-old reigning champ bellowed with laughter. His entourage were silent for perhaps half a second before breaking up.
They slapped their thighs, as well as each other, and shrieked their appreciation of the President's wit so purposefully that two vile-looking birds rose almost vertically from a distant tree and fled towards the Sudan.
It looks to me as if it's going to be a good read. The front cover shows Wooldridge interviewing George Best while they loll on a bed. There's also a foreword by Richie Benaud to appreciate. You can find out how to obtain it here for £15.
However, a quick check shows that it's even cheaper on Amazon.
