Simone Bacchini writes:

So the Games are over. Bye-bye London; Rio, here we come. By now, most people will agree: both the Olympics and the Paralympics have been an astounding success. They came, they won, we watched.

Although millions of tickets were sold, most of us watched the Games from the comfort of our homes. A lot has been said and written about what happened in front of TV and computer screens in Britain and across the world. London 2012 was undoubtedly a sporting triumph but as well as the Usain Bolts, Oscar Pistoriuses and Mo Farahs, the great winner of the "emperor of mega-events" was the broadcasting media.

What we watched on screens and what some of us saw at the Olympic Park was astounding but it was just the surface. To put on a good show is – among other things – to draw the spectator into an alternative world that she can enjoy, almost oblivious to all the preparation and machinery necessary to make it happen. Behind the astonishing performance of an athlete, there are hours of training as well as scientific research on aspects such as physiology, and physics. Similarly, behind every minute of broadcasting there are literally thousands of hours of planning and of researching new technologies. When we talk about the ‘legacy’ of London 2012, we ought to keep in mind that it will not only involve young people taking up sport.

Last week, here at the British Library we were given a rare opportunity to go behind the scenes of what broadcasting the Olympics has meant. And it was fascinating; the spectacle behind the spectacle. Dave Gordon, Head of Major Events at BBC Sport since 2001, gave a rare insight into all the work that made following the Olympics possible.

To begin with, it was astonishing to learn the amount of preparation that went into broadcasting London 2012. Soon after it was announced that London would bid to host the Games, the BBC began to plan what it would cover, and how. It was decided that coverage would extend beyond sporting events to include cultural ones. In a sort of game of mirrors, the Games became a catalyst to showcase BBC products and they, in turn, became occasions to focus attention onto the forthcoming Games.

Drama was enlisted to entertain viewers and inform them on Olympic and Paralympic-related issues. So, although it was Channel four that had won the rights to broadcast the Paralympics, the BBC commissioned and aired The Best of Men, a one-episode dramatisation of the origins of the modern Paralympics in the work of Dr Gutmann, at Stoke Mandeville hospital. It was Dr Guttmann’s introduction of sport into the rehabilitation programme of wounded soldiers that led directly to ‘the most successful Paralympics’ in London, this year. Similarly, Bert and Dickie – which dramatised the accomplishments of the two rowers Bert Bushnell and Dickie Burnell – was an opportunity for the public to learn more about rowing as well as the 1948 ‘austerity Olympics’. One of the most successful pre-Games events, the torch-relay – which truly gripped the Nation – made it into BBC One’s best-known soap opera: Eastenders.

But when the real show began, the BBC spared no efforts. All of its channels were enlisted, at one point or another, to fulfil the promise that every minute of every sport would be, for the first time ever, broadcast. That meant, among other things, finding commentators knowledgeable enough to assist the viewing public in following and actually understanding sports which are relative obscure.

Digital technology did not – of course – begin with the Olympics, but it was certainly used to enhance the experience. The same applies to High Definition viewing as well as Super HI-Vision (SHV). SHV has sixteen times as many pixels as High Definition; this makes a picture with 7680 pixels across by 4320 pixels down. SHV was developed by NHK, the Japanese national broadcaster. Although NHK had used the technology before, London 2012 has been the biggest operation so far. Apparently, it gave an amazing viewing experience and its use during the Olympics is likely to determine how it will develop in the future.

Learning what broadcasting the Games entailed was fascinating. To all those present, it was clear that it required a monumental effort on the part of very many people. Unlike the athletes’ their names may never be known by the general public. Their achievements, however, will be part of the legacy of London 2012 and are likely to inspire a generation too, maybe not to run on a track but just to sit behind a TV camera. And that’s legacy just the same.

Perceptions about disability sport are bound to change in the wake of the Paralympics of 2012, and I say this with confidence because I’ve already observed how my own ideas about it have been transformed. It happened almost imperceptibly, but it definitely happened! One moment I was watching the Paralympics with an awareness that this was different to the Olympic Games, and the next minute (after having jumped to my feet and started roaring) my only experience was that this was a sporting competition and that I wanted my guy to win. Breakthrough! In the final analysis, in the heat of the moment, the Paralympics is a competition, just like any other.

If this sounds deliberately disingenuous, it really isn’t, because this breakthrough represented a real change in perception that was startling to me in retrospect, even though it was purely instinctive and natural. It certainly made me think about the mental barriers that we almost unconsciously erect around things and how they inevitably colour the way we behave.

The press seems to have undergone this metamorphosis too, putting emphasis on the winning of medals and GB’s standing in the tables rather then the more – shall we say - ‘emotional’ side of the Paralympics: the triumph over adversity aspect. The subtext is “we were all reluctant to let the Olympics go; thank heaven for the Paralympics, it’s just as good”. Different people; same competition essentially.

With these and similar ideas in mind, some people are now calling for the Olympic & Paralympic Games to be amalgamated, so that able and non-able bodied athletes can compete together – not against each other, but with the two sets of events taking place within the same time frame, in one big Games, which would embrace every different type of human form and endeavour.

Would the logistics be impossible to cope with? A few problems spring to mind: the Olympic venues had to be changed in some respects to adjust to the physical requirements of the Paralympians; the latter also required a more flexible timetable (for similar reasons). But are these insuperable issues? The positive side of the equation? The chance of real integration between these elite athletes, and a learning experience for all concerned.

Lots of Library colleagues have been sampling the Paralympic events, and have come back with similar ideas. Why separate it out? The volunteers are just as welcoming; the venues just as exciting; the sporting events ditto. Pictures also continue to flood in, revealing spectators' continuing sense of wonder. here are a couple:

© Bettis

 

 

 

Simone Bacchini writes:

If you’re expecting a balanced, unbiased article on the Paralympic spectacle I’m afraid you will be disappointed. To my surprise, the level of excitement I’ve been experiencing has been rather startling. Partly, it may be due to a semi-conscious desire not to let go of the party atmosphere, the general sense of excitement that took hold of Great Britain, and especially London, during the Olympics. I may be generalising, but I think the Games made us fell good about ourselves and – like all good parties – they gave us a break, albeit a temporary one, from the daily worries of our challenging times. But like all parties, the Olympics too ended. Except that they didn’t, really; the Paralympics got it started again. 

Undoubtedly, for the host city and the host country, both the Olympics and the Paralympics have a special value. They are occasions to showcase the Nation; to project a preferred image, both to outsiders and, crucially, to itself. In the case of the Paralympics, an extra layer of meaning is added and it has to do with the way we – as a society – view disability. Of course one can’t be naïve; a few days of highly visible elite sportsmanship will not translate instantly into the removal of all barriers, some of them physical, some cultural and psychological, that still affect the live of disabled people. For every Oscar Pistorious (isn’t he great?), there are probably hundreds of people who find it difficult to go the office because of architectural barriers and transport systems that are not fit for purpose. According to data published in the Office for National Statistics Labour Force Survey (http://tiny.cc/7oiwjw), in 2009 there were 1.3million disabled people available for work in the UK. Of those, only half were in employment, compared with 80 per cent of non disabled people. There are certainly complex reasons behind this but certainly part of the problem has to do with perceptions of disability, which in turn has to do with still insufficient visibility of disability itself and of people with disabilities. And this is where the Paralympics and the attention given to them can and does help.  

The first International Stoke Mandeville Games for the Paralysed, held in Rome from 18^th to 25^th September 1960 received little attention. I wasn’t able to find a single article in The Times for the period concerned (but I’m still searching!). During the Games the largest Italian daily, Corriere della Sera, only published three articles on the event which, after all, was being held in the Country’s Capital. According to The Times (31/08/2012), 20 years ago the Barcelona Paralympics had only one British TV programme devoted to them. It is therefore impressive that this time Channel 4 was willing to pay £9million to outbid the BBC for the rights to broadcast the Paralympics, promising around 500 hours of coverage over the 11 days of the event. So far the bet appears to have paid off. The viewing figures are stunning: peak viewing of 11.2 million and an average of 7.6 million viewers for the stunning opening ceremony. And let’s not forget the 2.4 million tickets sold. In contrast, according to The Times, NBC - the US broadcasters – will only show its viewers a 90-minute programme with highlights on September 16. This in spite of the fact that the US has 340 athletes in the Games, and the UD disabled population is estimated at around 38 million. In other countries, the situation is likely to be worse. Clearly, there’s still work to be done. 

But does this all matter? And don’t paralympians want our attention to be focused on their sporting performances, rather than on whichever disability they may happen to have? Are we – the able-bodied viewing public – patronising when we watch the Paralympics with added interest and Paralympians’ performances with added admiration? I may be wrong on this, but I don’t think we are. In my view, paralympians – just like any disable person – are who they are not in spite of their disabilities but because of them. Impairments are facts of life; just like skin colour and sexual orientation: they just exist. The Paralympics, among other things, can help society become more aware and accepting of this fact. In addition, they are fun to watch and an opportunity to be excited by the athletes’ physical prowess and sheer determination. On top of this, they can help change attitudes. So in this case – but alas not in the Paralympics or the Olympics – everyone’s a winner!

Simone Bacchini writes:

The organiser of London 2012, Lord Coe, has demanded more compulsory sport in school ‘to capitalize on the enthusiasm generated by the Olympics’, as the London’s Independent (http://tiny.cc/hd1niw) reports. As I wrote in a previous post, the words ‘compulsory’ and ‘sport’ in the same sentence still have nightmarish reverberations for me. However, I’m willing to reconsider. Especially if Professor Peter Donnelly’s invitation to allow people to be bad at sports is taken on board. 

Peter Donnelly is a professor in the faculty of kinesiology and physical education at the University of Toronto. He was only one of the numerous speakers who presented papers at the recently-held world sociology of sport congress (ISSA), at Glasgow Caledonian University, 16^th – 18^th July 2012. The title of this year’s event was: “Sport: Challenging Boundaries”. And indeed, that’s exactly what it did.  

Over four days, young researchers and experienced academics from numerous countries presented their work. In parallel sessions, topics such as the evolution and future of mega-events, the inclusion/exclusion of gay and lesbian in sports, corruption and clientelism in Argentine football, and the increasingly vague meaning of words such as ‘sustainability’ in Olympic bid documents were addressed and discussed.  

I don’t have the space to give even a brief summary of all the papers that were presented. Hopefully, some of them will find their way onto the pages of the International Review for the Sociology of Sport, as well as other media. Among the most attended papers were those dealing with various aspects of the Olympics. Various interpretations of the notion of ‘legacy’ were explored; questions were asked as to what exactly can be considered a legacy, and whether it can be measured.  

Perhaps unsurprisingly, a lot of attention and criticism was devoted to the IOC and the often perplexing lengths governments are willing to go to in order to win an Olympic bid. In fairness, neither the Games nor the IOC were depicted as entirely negative or malevolent. But it was refreshing to see the ‘sociological imagination’ applied to examine some extravagant claims and to question commonly-held assumptions, such as the ability of the Olympic to ‘inspire a generation’ and to create harmony and smooth out conflict often ascribed to sport.  

Another theme that was explored was the extent to which sport is and can be truly inclusive. Some fascinating papers explored the links between patriarchy and the world of sport. To a large extent, sport remains a favourite arena for the displaying and the reproduction of dominant ideas of masculinity and heteronormativity. However, as Jonah Bury, of the University of Bristol, pointed out with reference to English association football, the way in which footballers are expected to ‘come out’, i.e. through the media, can be problematic in itself. Yet, it is true that overt gay participation in main sporting events is still minimal and is a source of ‘invisibility’. This can be also said of the presence of women in the world of sport, in which sport reporting was included. According to one speaker, in spite of the undeniable advances that have taken place, it is still predominantly males – for example – that act as experts in the world of sport reporting.  

It is not possible, here, to do justice to the scope of research that was presented in Glasgow. What was clear, however, was the fact the field of sport sociology has reached maturity. There are innumerable areas of investigation to be discovered and re-discovered and their relevance extends far beyond the realm of the individual sport or sports concerned. Hopefully, this blog, the Sport and Society website and, ultimately, the resources of the British Library will assist present and future researchers. It is certainly my hope that they will.

One morning, just over seven years ago, I received the most welcome cup of tea in my life.  It had started as a normal journey to the Library - a 24 bus from Pimlico, and then hoping onto a 30 at the top of Tottenham Court Road - but that morning, 7 July 2005, the morning after London had been awarded the 2012 Olympic Games, the bus route got messed up, and I ended up walking towards the Library through Bloomsbury.  You know the rest of the story.  Because of the bombings, the final bit of the route to work was blocked off, there was an exploded bus at the end of the road, smoke on the ground, and people in tears, running.  Friends House opened its doors, gave people a chance to call family and work, and offered a cup of tea.  As I said, it's the most welcome one I've received.

I bought a bicycle the next day, something I had been meaning to do, but was precipitated by that week's transport problems.  Seven years and three bikes later, I was cycling around the Olympic Stadium, dressed rather improbably as a dove and bobbing up and down to flap some illuminated wings.  Oh, and retro-quiffed Arctic Monkeys were playing a cover version of The Beatles' Come Together.

There's a path that can be picked out between these two surreal moments (one horrific, one rather glorious), something highlighted during the opening ceremony by the Abide With Me section.  It's a story strikingly illuminated by an interview with a medic, Andrew Hartle, who treated some of the victims of the 7/7 bombings, and volunteered to be part of the Olympics medical team. For Hartle, the Opening Ceremony proved to be a turning point.  As he told The Telegraph,

I did it because there was part of me that wanted to be involved in this and make it good, to make up for 7/7... It was really important to me that the Olympics worked, that London could demonstrate that it was about something other than 7/7. That we could deliver something brilliant, to be proud of. We don’t do pride very often, and I think we should.

Watching the opening ceremony, 'There was a sense of calm and real excitement. A sense of closure. The Olympics were here. They were cathartic. The anxiety had gone. London was not about 7/7 for me any more.'

In this, and a thousand other ways, the London Games tied together personal and the public, the individual and the national.  The Ceremony, it seems, also acted as a fulcrum, shifting the national (or at least the London) mood from one of indifference or cynicismto something else, something that has been worked over by commentators from across the political spectrum.  The confidence, humour and perhaps unexpected success contrasted greatly with the summer riots of the preceding year, as Dizzee Rascal noted in Time Out, while also drawing attention to the continuing deprivation experienced by many living near the Stratford stadium.  The task for the social sciences, it seems to me, is offering the tools to record and investigate these processes and tensions at a deeper level than that offered in the pages of the press and opinion pieces.

Another potential PhD topic would be (if it's not too late), the anthropology of the volunteers that underpinned much of the Games' success.  What motivated them?  What did they get out of it?  How did it change, if at all, the way communities saw themselves?  To what extent did it stop people 'bowling alone'?

As a Dove Bike, my responses will be biased.  For what it's worth, I spotted a call for cyclists 'with upper body strength' on the Lfgss.com forum. (It was also posted on British Cycling.)  Ignoring that muscular requirement, and taking the view that if the Olympics were going to happen one might as well make the most of it, I signed up and attended an audition at 3 Mills early in March.  A hundred or so cyclists, many in team kit, where there. We were asked to ride around, bob up and down, and cross through each other, all in front of video cameras.  Like any groups, it soon took on it's own character, with plenty of humour, sarcastic asides, suggestions from the volunteers, and a growing sense of curiousity and interest in what the opening ceremony might be.  How naff would it be to just have a bunch of bikes cycling round in circles?

I received a callback in late May, with some of the rehearsals already underway. These took place in a certain amount of secrecy at Dagenham, inside a big top tent, and on one of two staked out stadium, or 'field of play', as we soon came to know it.  The commitment required soon became apparent: most weekends, some evenings, and a lot of time waiting around in the cold and rain.  Many people were travelling a long way, some were also volunteering as Gamesmakers, and, among the cyclists, were trying to fit their usual training in.  But once Danny Boyle showed us the 'pre-visuals' - a remarkably accurate computer animation - we were sold.  Not only would we get to ride our bikes in the stadium, getting a sneak peek inside the greatest show on earth, but we'd be doves, just before the lighting of the cauldron (avoiding the risk of setting alight any real feathered friends). 

We weren't the only bikes involved.  Many acquintances and friends from across London had also signed up and were being rehearsed for the 'Bike AM' section, which would precede the doves and celebrate the UK's cycling culture.  Bob Haro, who had worked in the BMX scenes in E.T., was helping to set up an extraordinary BMX and flatlander section, and others were pulling large metal 'fire bikes', with gas cannisters in their baskets.  In between all these would weave a 'peloton' dressed in the Olympic colours. 

The BMXers hung around looking cool, the firebikers perfected their towing, the peloton practised their pace lines.  And we got used to flapping our wings.  In July we moved to the Stadium, getting used to the 'M25' which ran around it, timing our lines going up the hill in front of the Tor, and, once we had perfected, our routine, practising all the things that go to make up such a large show - the lighting, the process of getting there (from over a mile away at Eton Manor, where our flock was cooped up for hours with hundreds of other performers), the TV sight lines.  We also got our wings bit by bit.  First the jerkin, then the frame, then the lights.  Finally the feathers and tail.  We also got used to riding around on very ropey hybrid bikes.

It was surprisingly emotional, perhaps for some of the reasons outlined above, as well as the need for secrecy (something that wasn't stressed, but we all took onboard), but also when we sat at the start of one of the rehearsals, and noticed that there were no other bikes: Danny Boyle came up to explain that the show had to be cut to ensure that everyone could get home on time. He refused to let go any of the volunteers, but only cut the paid performers (the BMXers, the peloton, and the firebikes were paid for insurance reasons).  Only our section remained.  So, on the night, we rode in part for the peloton and the other bikers.  And, just before opening night, a section of clips was released from the dress rehearsals.  It included, it seems without being authorised, clips of us cycling around.  After months of telling no-one what we were up to, many found it surprising.  Our self-generated Google Group and that evening's rehearsal was for a while in quite a flap.  But one comment by one of the doves got us back on track: 'Let's make the athletes, Danny, Ben, Bob, Paul, Sara, Solomon and all the stage management/costume/make-up/technical people etc, plus our families and friends VERY proud. Let us welcome the athletes and the flame for the Olympics in London and make sure everyone in the whole world forgets to breath for those few seconds because of their sheer amazement. LET'S GO AND DO IT! Bring it on!'

Then, it was Opening Night. The atmosphere was different, slightly tense, slightly serious, until we saw the Industrial Revolution segment play out (we had brought in a projector and laptop and used the wifi to watch a stream of the show as we waited around) and the performers came back to Eton Manor, elated, and high-fiving us as they went.  Our call came, and we marched two-by-two to collect our bikes and wings from underneath the stadium. Coming towards us were thousands of other performers, all 'coo cooing' and cheering, having the time of their lives.  On the left were the athletes making their long way into the stadium.  We tuned our earpieces into the floor manager's channel, got our wings, and lined up outside.  Six Billion pieces of paper, representing every man, woman and child on earth were dropped into the stadium and fluttered down towards us, like a snowstorm; Bowie came on over the radio, Team GB marched on, and then the Arctic Monkeys began to play.  We turned on our lights, began to flap, and waited for the signal.  Then, we rolled off, at 9 mph to do our circuit.

For me, it was just like the many other rehearsals.  The music was so loud in my earpiece, I couldn't hear the crowd.  I just kept focussed on the wheel in front, and did my best to bring up the rear (I was the last dove) and keep in position.  Everything was blue, white and black. Then, as we stopped, flapped in time, I could look around.  Thousands of athletes were grinning, taking photographs.  And our aerial performer was flying up towards the Tor end of the stadium (his beak painted yellow, rather than orange, on our suggestion, in honour of Bradley Wiggins, whom I suspect Boyle had wanted on the bike).  Our call came, we cycled through the 'vom' (vomitorium, architecture fans).  A nice moment: the walls were lined with the crew - costume, sound, lighting, TV - all clapping and cheering.  Somehow we - all of us - had pulled it off.

[M.J.S.]

 

 

What a marvellous experience London 2012 is being! Not only have the Games themselves – the athletes and the fans – been wonderful, but so far none of our worst fears have come true: traffic dislocation – the Tube is working fine; gridlock – it never happened. Everyone I know is glued to the TV or else actually attending events, ticketed and un-ticketed. I’m off to see the open water swimming in Hyde Park on Thursday and I’ve got my flag packed and everything.

Several of my colleagues have participated in the opening ceremony and I have prevailed upon one of them – Matthew Shaw of the Americas Section – to tell us about his experiences as one of the cycling doves. Here’s an earlier post of his on the Americas web page, just to give you a taster. http://bit.ly/M34D2O Matthew had a few pictures taken of himself, one of which revealed that the designers had taken the trouble to paint a beak on his face (didn’t spot that at the time). Hilarious – and quirky; in fact just what I hoped the London Games would bring to the Olympic experience. See the doves in training on the BBC website http://bbc.in/Mpe3Wo

Lots of other colleagues have trooped off to the Olympic Park to see the opening ceremony and events like the athletics and the swimming. All have come back enthusing about the organisation of the events, the beauty of the Olympic Park flower gardens and the helpfulness of the volunteers. They have also deluged me with pictures some of which (like this one) will be adorning this blog.

©Bettis

So the much talked about feel good factor really is tangible. On the Thursday before the Games started, the Olympic torch made its way to King’s Cross, close to the Library, and seeing it arrive, heralded by a stirring of excited voices in the watching crowd and a ripple of expectation which seemed to flow down the street and made you catch your breath, was an amazing feeling; even the most cynical observer must have been moved by it. It definitely felt as if the huge crowd of onlookers was sharing something out of the ordinary, as if the emotion and the feeling of connectedness were flowing from some sort of collective consciousness (sorry to go all Jungian on you but that’s the only way I can describe it).

Much has been said, by the athletes themselves, and by other commentators, at home and abroad, about British sport fans and their huge contribution to athletic performance and to the sense of occasion. One of my most deeply felt joys (yes I know I don’t get out much) was seeing Millwall win a match at the old Den which they looked almost certain, at one point, to lose, and again there was this sense of connectedness, this feeling that the emotion of a crowd had changed things. It’s quite an amazing thing to be caught up in.

There have been quite a few studies undertaken about this phenomenon and about the phenomenon of fandom generally, though most of the research has focussed on football crowds from a variety of perspectives good and bad. This Olympics has been distinguished by the enthusiasm of these benign crowds, these people with a desire to share in the experience and to benefit from it in subtle and not so subtle ways. People want to drink at this fountain of well-being.

References 

Daniel L Wann [et al]
Sport fans: the psychology and social impact of spectators
New York; London: Routledge, 2001
London reference collections shelfmark: YC 2003.a.15081

Stephen Mumford
Watching sport: aesthetics, ethics and emotion
London: Routledge, 2012
London reference collections shelfmark: SPIS 796.01

Simone Bacchini writes:

The wait is over; the XXX Olympiad is finally here. So I’m going to disobey instructions and – hoping my boss can forgive the temporary mutiny – I will write about the wonderful ISSA2012 conference I attended in Glasgow next time. As a Londoner, as a contributor to the Sport and Society website, and as one of your bloggers, I just could not let this day go without somehow marking it. 

I have been working in the social sciences team, here at the British Library, for just over a year. A lot of this time has been devoted, through developing the website and other activities, to assisting researches and interested members of the public in exploring sport through the lens of the social sciences. Undoubtedly, the Summer Olympics and Paralympics has been a fantastic catalyst for this. 

I’m well aware that – when it comes to the Games – hyperbole has been with us from the very start. An inflation of positive adjectives has characterised media coverage and official discourse about it. But I have to admit that – deep breath – this is a “once in a lifetime” opportunity to witness a rather unique event. If you live in Britain, and especially London, you happen to be right in the middle of it. And yes, it’s impressive. 

Of course I don’t mean to say that one should accept all the propaganda (caution: I’m using the term in its strict etymological sense!) that inevitably accompanies an event such as this. It is only right that we don’t abandon our critical faculties. Social scientists, researchers, and members of the public must continue to scrutinise the grand claims made by the IOC and the Government, about things such as the “legacy” of the Games. Here at the British Library, we hope to enable people to do just that. 

However, healthy scepticism and a certain excitement, even enthusiasm, can coexist. If not to the entire world, London has become host to a large part of it. People who will be physically here, as well as those who will follow the next few weeks’ events through the media. 

Walking though St Pancras International train station this morning, on my way to work, I found myself unusually cheerful. There were coloured banners, people speaking numerous languages (in itself not unusual for London; quite the contrary), Olympic volunteers in their shiny new uniforms and – in the tradition of English eccentricity – members of the public wearing outrageously over the top, carnivalesque costumes they had obviously made themselves. 

So perhaps that’s what it is. The Olympics –quite aside from the sport – is also a carnival. In spite of all the hyper regulations touching upon commerce, traffic, branding, and so on, this is – or can be – a liberating moment. Temporary, with limitations, but still liberating. And perhaps that’s why – if we’re honest – most of us like it, at least a bit. 

Could it be that Mikhail Bakhtin could maybe tell us more about London 2012 than Lord Coe, Jacques Rogge, or David Cameron? Oh dear, I feel a PhD thesis coming…. And for that, the British Library’s reading rooms might be more appropriate than the Olympic Park!

It wouldn’t be exaggerating at all to say that excitement is mounting exponentially here, in anticipation of the rapidly approaching Olympic Games. This morning saw the press launch of the Olympex exhibition at the British Library which shows a fascinating collection of postage stamps, postcards and other memorabilia relating to the London Games of 1908, 1948 and 2012.

Visitors can see a 2012 torch and torch-bearer’s uniform, numerous wonderful images and films from the vast collections of the IOC, listen to the recorded voices of British Olympians, and play with an amazing electronic version of the exhibition, the software for which has been developed by the Library itself. Outside on the piazza a booth where people can buy Olympic stamps and send cards is rapidly taking shape, and there’s a definite buzz, here and in St Pancras station, where numerous non-accredited press representatives wearing large badges and heading purposefully towards Russell Square can be spotted round every corner.

The celebrations almost seem to be taking on a life of their own, touching every aspect of London’s life. The athletic events seem like only one tiny part of it, and quite far away. However, the Library is now an official Olympic space, and we have the flag outside to prove it (solemnly raised at 1pm today).

The voices of the Olympians at Olympex are of particular interest to us because – unlike the Olympex exhibits themselves which belong to private collections - they are drawn from the British Library’s own oral history archive. This resource, which is of enormous - and increasing - interest to researchers, covers a wide range of subjects from Jewish history and politics to the history of medicine and industry, and it also includes a number of recordings of sports people. These have been collected over the past twenty years and comprise interviews with track, field and road athletes as well as tennis players, fencers, canoeists and swimmers. Also included are unique interviews with those involved in the coaching of sport as well as those who witnessed historic sporting events such as the Berlin Olympics of 1936.

The Olympians’ accounts are fascinating: Dorothy Tyler, who won an Olympic silver medal in the high jump in 1948 speaks of her experiences then, and also in Berlin in 1936, when there were chaperones to ensure that moral decency was observed. Bill Roberts, who also went to Berlin to compete, sensed a threatening atmosphere at these Games and speaks eloquently of the antipathy of the British team to the Nazi regime. What comes across in all of these accounts is how relatively unsophisticated the whole process was in those days: training for the Games was not centrally organised, and the athletes themselves bore many of the costs of competing. Dorothy Tyler explains that in 1948, at a time of austerity, competitors were housed wherever space could be found, often in army or air force barracks – clearly, the Olympics of the immediate post war period led a remarkably hand-to-mouth existence. Hearing these things reminds us just how explosive - in terms of its organisation and bureaucracy - the development of the Olympic idea has been since those much simpler days.

The good news is that these interviews, and many others, have now been put online on the Library’s website for everyone to hear.

http://sounds.bl.uk/Oral-history/Sport