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Jonny’s book of ironies

THERE were several sad ironies about Jonny Wilkinson’s latest autobiography landing on my desk this week.

Not least that it slid straight off it (having fallen out of its jacket), into the bin and emerged anything but unscathed from a brush with a newly-used tea bag.

All too appropriate considering yet another significant proportion of his career has just been tea-leafed by injury.

The book’s title — Tackling Life — is both a victim of poor timing and proof of the mindset which prompts Wilkinson to push his body beyond its limits so often.

And the fact that his co-author, Steve Black, is better known as a fitness guru is another cruel coincidence.

If he didn’t laugh, Jonny — pictured on the cover in rude health with a glowing smile — would surely cry.

If the tone of the book tells us anything, though, it is that he will be back.

In what shape, for how long and at what cost are other questions.

But having seen plenty of feckless footballers sell their wage-payers short over the years, shame on anyone who decries Wilkinson’s dedication as obsessive.

If only sport had more obsessives like him.