A godparent's promise

Like all rare breeds, true sporting godparents are precious indeed, opening the door to experiences on the riverbank, peg or hunting field that can have a profound impact on both their godchildren's lives and their own

- Rosie Nickerson

THERE are some godparents who may not always remember a birthday or turn up to cheer at a match or concert, nor may they offer much in the way of spiritual guidance, but if they are sporting godparents they can still be legendary in their own way. Such individuals have the ability to spark a life-long love of the countryside and country sports. One godfather I know well, surprisingly given that he is fairly religious, gave his 15-year-old godson £500 of shooting lessons at his local clay ground as a confirmation present. As a result, the lad’s shooting improved dramatically. This gift probably had a far greater impact on his life than a leather-bound Bible or dictionary of saints.

“My godfather, Jack Lomas, had an estate in Devon,” says David Madden, a retired colonel from Somerset who now works as a maths teacher in a London academy. “When I was eight years old he said: ‘We need to get you down to do some rabbit shooting.’ When I arrived he lined up three packets of cereal on the lawn, handed me a single bolt-action .410 and asked me to shoot them each in turn. The following night he took me lamping. I can remember vividly the excitement of being in the back of the pickup while he was shining the light — it was so much easier than trying to shoot rabbits in the day. A few years later he asked me to be godfather to his son Alex and, when he was old enough, I handed Alex back the very same .410.” Mark Carter-Motley from Staffordshire has fond memories of his godfather, Eddie Ryle-Hodges, who hailed from Barnard Castle.