Darren Sutherland - An Appreciation
by John Doyle
Irish sport has found itself on a razor’s edge between tragedy and controversy over the last decade. Regarding the latter, one only has to cite Roy Keane’s inspection of Saipan’s finest amenities, or question how legitimate Michelle Smith’s claims to her Olympic medal haul of 1996 really were, to connect with those moments of polarisation that touch a raw nerve in Irish society.
Unfortunately with the former there is a certain irony that does not add any comfort, instead only intensifies the numb sense of loss and disbelief. Through the flash of lightning on an early Spring night that saw Cormac McAnallen snatched away at 24 years of age, an Irish Steve Prefontaine if ever there was one, or the numbing recent events in Yorkshire which saw the death of Galway jockey Jamie Kyne and colleague Jan Wilson and is still under Police investigation, there is a connection through grief; somehow it is through an athlete cut down in seconds flat we find a certain national unity. Not to be harsh on the national psyche, perhaps it is the warmth of the collective human spirit that saw such genuine affection last week as news filtered through that Darren Sutherland at 27 years old had been found dead in grim circumstances by coach Frank Maloney at Sutherland’s London Flat. Such was the horror of the discovery that Maloney had to be admitted to hospital with a suspected mild heart attack.
Much speculation surrounds Darren’s reasons for taking his own life, unfortunately the usual suspects lurk within close proximity of such tragedies, with tabloids and less than reputable broadsheets playing the post-modern game of which one is more nefarious than the other one when it comes to lack of sensitive reporting, with broadsheets out-tabloiding the tabloids in race to scrape the bottom of the barrel. Sutherland cannot respond in any way. He cannot outline the reasons why a bright beaming handsome young man holding an Olympic bronze medal in August 2008 should feel he is so alone in the world 13 months later that he decides life has become pointless and irrelevant to him. He cannot quench the insatiable hunter-gatherer mentality of the tacky press and media outlets, where he becomes caught exactly halfway between the limited definitions of morality and good copy. The bottom line is Darren is dead, and not one of those hacks in both tabloid and broadsheet format were there to talk to him in his final mortal moments, yet see fit to “mourn” in their roles of national soapbox curators.
Sutherland was (and it still feels far too surreal using “was” instead of is) too classy to become embroiled in media no-go areas. Rising through the ranks of national amateur boxing, the Dublin born Navan resident had claimed 3 Leinster titles in a row by mid-decade, boxing out of Dublin’s St. Saviour’s club in his natural middleweight rank. It was at the Beijing Olympics of 2008 that Darren Sutherland’s light shone most spectacularly, seeing off Algerian Nabil Kassel, and Alfonso Blanco of Venezuela, before falling short to Briton James DeGale. It was hard medicine for the Irishman to swallow, having come so close to the ultimate prize, although he cut a fine portrait with his treasured bronze medal. Little did any of us realise over year later it would be Sutherland’s career highlight.
Rumours about Darren’s emotional well-being came as a bewildering shock to the Irish public on the morning of September 15th, 2009. From the beaming Tri-colour rapped Olympian of Autumn 2008 to a tragic end in a London flat, one may question the increasing commodification of a sport once regarded as somewhat free of the tacky trappings of showbusiness, and just how sports stars in general are groomed to make the transition from hungry amateur into streetwise professional. For the late Darren Sutherland, a man with much ahead of him, but so much crippling doubt and sorrow weighing him down, his heartbroken family and friends, of whom a whole nation will also consider themselves to be, those fears, doubts, and bleak nights Darren carried with him have been put to rest in the most gruesome manner imaginable. At 27 he has joined Cormac McAnallen, Jamie Kyne, and all the other Irish sporting figures cut down a long time before a term like prime could even be considered. Let us just hope Darren will at last find the peace and light he had become so painfully separated from in his mortal guise.
