Tragedy has rolled into the genteel world of pétanque, a sport where the most dangerous thing is usually a poorly aimed pastis. But yesterday, in a shocking turn of events that has sent shudders through the boules community, 68-year-old veteran player Claude ‘The Anvil’ Beaumont was struck fatally by a misdirected metal boule during a fiercely contested regional championship in the sleepy Provençal village of Sainte-Pélagie. Initial reports suggest that Beaumont, a former three-time departmental champion known for his unwavering calm and surprisingly quick feet, was leaning in for a crucial measurement when a wild, over-enthusiastic throw from a novice competitor, one Jean-Luc ‘Lefty’ Pernod, careened off a tree root, ricocheted off a bicycle, and caught poor Claude squarely on the temporal region.
He was pronounced dead at the scene. The entire pétanque fraternity is, of course, in a state of profound shock, clutching their zinc counters and muttering about the inherent dangers of heavy metal spheres thrown at high velocity. Sport England has issued a statement extending ‘deepest sympathies’ and reminding everyone that pétanque, despite its leisurely image, is ‘played with dense projectiles and should be treated with the same respect as, say, javelin catching.
’ Meanwhile, the village of Sainte-Pélagie has declared a week of mourning, with all boules games suspended, a move that has caused considerable distress among local bar owners, who fear that without the metallic clink of victory, their terraces will be eerily silent. The French Pétanque Federation has announced a full inquiry, and there is already talk of mandatory helmet laws for all players over 60, a proposal that has predictably caused outrage among the sport’s crusty veterans, who consider head protection an affront to their masculine dignity. One local player, the magnificently monikered Gérard ‘The Glacier’ Goutard, was heard to mutter, ‘We’ve never needed safety clobber.
It’s a game of skill, not a rugby scrum. This was a tragic accident, pure and simple. You can’t wrap the world in bubble wrap.
’ But the optics are poor. The image of a grown man felled by a gleaming cannonball on a sun-dappled gravel pitch is a PR disaster for a sport already fighting a losing battle against lawn bowls and crown green bowling for the soul of leisurely sphere-based competition. Let’s be honest, not since a certain unfortunate marsupial got into a spot of bother on the M4 has a case of roadkill seemed so unnecessary.
Poor Claude. Let us all raise a glass of Ricard, and perhaps invest in some sturdy headgear. The boules stops here.
