Lewis Hamilton Is a Prophet Without Honour in His Home Town

And I have never really understood this.

Image via Wikimedia commons

Great Britain loves losers.

There’s something about the British psyche that gravitates to those who have fallen ridiculously short in their quest for immortality.

There’s Frank Bruno, who stubbornly remains etched in the hearts and minds of the great British public, despite the phenomenal ass whopping handed to him by Mike Tyson in 1989 and 1996. One cannot forget the excoriation that the Rupert Murdoch owned Sun Newspapers received when they mocked the boxer for being sectioned back in 2003, so much so, they had to apologize on their front page, the very next day.

There’s Eddie the eagle, who failed spectacularly at the 1988 winter Olympics, coming last at the ski jumping events. His failure certainly wasn’t an impediment to winning the affections of the wider public or commercial appeal in the intervening years.

There’s Tim Henman, the favourite of the chattering classes, in Putney, Wiltshire and Dorset, who for the longest time was Britain’s only hope of glory at the All Tennis Club in South-West London. His perennial semi-final losses at Wimbledon did nothing to dim the degree of affection felt for this dull, middle-class fellow.