Where did anyone get the idea that the Olympic & Paralympic Games were all about sport? In fact - as is clear from the long parade of incidents and issues that have cropped up since the announcement of the awarding of the event to London in 2005 - the Games have, characteristically, been all about controversy. No one can agree about anything – from the design of the logo, to the course of the marathon, and the choice of the rock bands for the Olympic concerts.

 So the opening ceremony will inevitably polarise views. It already has (before we even know what it’s going to consist of) judging by the comments on the BBC website about the choice of bands for one of the concerts which will be taking place at the same time. I’m really curious about the opening ceremony and have been trying to piece together various clues about what it might be like, so I pricked up my ears when I heard that bands would be involved in some way. Could it be that the whole thing will have a federated feel to it, like the Proms in the Park, with the focus shifting periodically from the stadium itself to the areas where other crowds are gathered? (to be quite honest, I can’t stand that sort of thing; others will love it)

 According to LOCOG, some 15000 performers will be taking part in the opening and closing ceremonies but that’s pretty much all we know about what has been planned apart from ambiguous references to schoolchildren and people with performing skills. I think we can rule out thousands of perfectly arranged and rigidly timed drummers (it’s been done) but the details are a closely guarded secret and our best guesses must be pretty broad ones. Mine are: the UK’s history of musical theatre will play a huge part, as will its dramatic and literary heritage. I just hope it’s not too focussed on superannuated rock and rollers. I have to admit this, I rather like Morris dancers, so while maypoles might not charm some people, I’ll be perfectly happy if they make an appearance! But can you imagine the headlines the following day? Controversy again…

 What is perhaps not generally known is that the Olympic charter specifies that certain elements of the occasion, such as the receiving of the Head of State, the taking of the Olympic oath and the lighting of the flame must always take place, so there are some fundamental elements to work on from the organisers’ points of view, and plenty of room for creativity, particularly with regard to the lighting of the cauldron. In times past the final torch bearer has achieved some remarkable athletic and dramatic feats in the process of doing this: in Beijing the gymnast Li Ning appeared to run in the air along the top of the stadium to light the flame, and at Sydney, runner Cathy Freeman lit a lake of fire which itself travelled up to the cauldron.

 Even events that seem straightforward enough can cause problems though. At the  1908 Olympics, the parade of athletes was marred by several rows. The American team refused to dip its flag to King Edward VII, and some of the Finnish team refused to march under the Russian flag; events which set the scene for further controversies which were not resolved by the time the Games were over. Hopefully those teething problems have all been sorted out over the years. Generally we all know what to expect now – or do we?

 

 

Usain Bolt has recently said in a BBC interview that he is hopeful of running the 100 metres at the London Olympics this summer in 9.4 seconds http://bbc.in/IN8PGn

Such a run would smash the current world record, and this exciting prospect set me to wondering what limits there actually are to human speed, and just how far we can push them (when I say we I mean men like Bolt, of course!).

In 1912 the American Don Lippincott established an official world record for the 100 metres of 10.6 seconds; 100 years later, Bolt has moved the record on to 9.58 (and if you look at the Youtube video of him achieving this time in Berlin, it’s pretty clear that he’s characteristically not running his absolute fastest at the end, so 9.4 certainly looks possible. http://bit.ly/bSQdp

The physiology of speed is science rather than social science territory, but the whole question of what we can ultimately achieve is endlessly fascinating, mainly because there’s a tantalising element of psychology mixed up in it. In other words, what we can do is often strongly linked to our expectations, which are infinite.

In the early days of women’s running all sorts of dire predictions about endurance racing gained currency, with the result that most of the women who ran the 800 metres in 1928 collapsed at the end, overcome by their inculcated ideas about what was physically possible. Watching Kenyan runner Mary Keitany storm home in the London marathon in 2.18.37 showed that those days really are over, and the women’s 100 metre record now stands at 10.49, which would easily have won the men’s event in 1912. Advanced training methods, better nutrition and expectations have had their inevitable effects.

There has been quite a lot of research done on the limits of human speed, and physiologists are more prepared to pronounce on this aspect of athletics than that of endurance running, the limits of which seem to be rapidly disappearing into the distance along with its practitioners themselves. Speed is obviously a different matter: world records in the 100 metres go down by hundredths of seconds and improvements have been slowing down over time, suggesting that the limit to human speed is relatively close. A perfect start, lack of wind resistance, peak form, a good attitude and tough competition also have to combine to create the world record, and this combination isn’t always present.

A number of scientists, such as John Einmahl, Sander Smeets, Peter Weyand and John Hutchinson, have been looking at the question, and think that performance enhancing developments - not drugs, but legal enhancements like improved shoes and track surfaces - might be the key factors now in pushing back the barriers. However, these might fall foul of regulations similar to those which now prohibit swimming competitors from wearing special swimsuits. This again raises the issue of which technological advances should be approved and which not. So, more headaches for the IOC.

References

J R Hutchinson

‘Biomechanical modelling and sensitivity analysis of bipedal running ability. 1. Extant taxa’ in Journal of morphology. Vol 262, no 1: 2004, 421-440

Lending collections shelfmark: 5021.000000.

J H Einmahl; J H Smeets

‘Ultimate 100-m world records through extreme value theory’ in Statistica Neerlandica. Vol 65, no 1, 2011, 32-42

Lending collections shelfmark: 8447.390000.

P G Weyand et al.

‘The biological limits to running speed are imposed from the ground up’ in Journal of applied physiology. Vol 108, no 4, 2010, 950-961

Lending collections shelfmark: 4946.000000.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Simone Bacchini writes: 

Sport may be good for you but food advertising during the Olympics may not. As the opening of the Games is now less than a hundred days away, another threat has appeared on the horizon. Forget terrorism, tube strikes, and the spectre of a flu-pandemic; all these we can cope with. The latest menace to be identified is far more insidious, and much more difficult to steer clear of: food. To be precise, it’s food advertising by way of sponsorships during the Olympics and Paralympics that has been singled out as a danger. Not to the Country’s security but to Olympic spectators’ waistlines, especially children’s. 

The BBC (http://bbc.in/I5WSd8) reports that campaigners from the Academy of Medical Royal Colleges (AoMRC) are calling for Olympic sponsors such as Coca-Cola, McDonald’s, and Cadbury to limit the visibility of their advertising which, they argue, sends out subliminal messages and encourages unhealthy eating and drinking habits, especially in children. 

I do not doubt that the AoMRC’s ‘War On Obesity’ is well-intentioned. Unquestionably, many diseases that plague our affluent society are linked to unhealthy eating habits, which are especially difficult to combat if acquired early in life. So I’m not surprised about this latest warning. What I find interesting is – once again – the way in which it is framed. What the AoMRC seem to object to the most is the apparent contradiction that emerges from the juxtaposition of lofty Olympic ideals with less desirable messages from Olympic sponsors. 

But is it realistic to ask the Olympics organisers to either refuse or limit the visibility of certain sponsors? I doubt it. The Games are not only a mega-event; they’re also a ‘mega-stage’. It is not only athletes that gain maximum exposure by taking part, it is also the sponsors. And the bigger the event gets, the bigger the need for sponsors and their cash. It may not be all about money, but it’s certainly a lot to do with it. “The greatest show on earth” doesn’t pay for itself, in spite of the ever increasing revenue from things such as broadcasting rights. 

“Money always talks louder than principles in sport”, writes Richard Godwin in London’s Evening Standard (http://bit.ly/I8doJH). In his view, whether some of the major sponsors of London 2012 are “ethical” is highly debatable, to say the least. One may disagree with him, but it is undeniable that in the world of modern sports the distance between the official rhetoric and reality is far greater than the distance marathon runners need to cover. 

Is it only o question of size? Perhaps modern sport suffers from gigantism; having grown to be so big, it needs to be fed and one can’t be too picky about where the ‘food’ is coming from. And yet, as the AoMRC reminds us, nutrition matters. Should sport perhaps go on a diet?

 

References

 

J.A Davis, The Olympic Games Effect. Singapore: Wiley, 2012.

London reference collections shelfmark:

SPIS 796.0698 DAV 12

 

V. Packard, The Hidden Persuaders. London: Penguin, 1981.

London reference collections shelfmark:

X.529.42240

 Sunday 1^st April and I am up at 5.30 (engineering works on the railway get in the way of a more civilised start) getting ready for the Wholefoods Breakfast Run in Kingston which I’m competing in with my BL colleague, Sally.

 The last visit to this event was distinguished by my tripping over near the start, twisting my ankle and then doing the full 16 miles (twice round the course - though I’m only doing one circuit on this occasion) by attempting to run on one leg only, so I know the bit of the kerb I’m going to be avoiding this time round. It’s a fine day and men and women of all shapes and sizes are gathering at the start. I’m a bit cold so instead of running in my flash running gear, I’m wearing some baggy grey tracksuit bottoms that have seen better days. It’s a bit infra dig but after years of running I’ve got over doing the fashionable thing. Everyone else looks hot though: elaborate pony tails, snazzy socks and fake tan are in evidence. And that’s only the men. The other thing is, it looks as if I’m the oldest person here by far. So what’s all that about? It’s a longish way but it’s a flat course, and it feels pretty easy, so with a bit of training anyone could do it, even an oldie – or ‘masters’ as we’re called in the States.

 I’m not aiming to beat any records so I can do a bit of nature spotting as I go round, and sure enough I notice some dive-bombing parakeets arguing in the treetops, two cormorants on a barge with some swans staring intently into the water, and as we approach Hampton Court it becomes clear that the trees in that vicinity are all festooned with great balls of mistletoe. All very interesting. Now and then a runner going at some incredible speed zips past on the outside. These are the people aiming to win, to do a PB.  Some are going round twice and already lapping the 8.2 milers.

 So why isn’t everyone doing this, and more particularly people of a certain age? The early shoppers in Kingston look slightly bemused as we go past and after we finish it feels so great to sit in Patisserie Valerie drinking tea and eating a hot cross bun that I feel rather sorry for those who won’t get to feel this sense of – well I did it. It’s not that we’re in any way athletic stars, but we’ve all gone through the pain barrier, soldiered on when it got a bit tough and felt sheer happiness when it got easier. We were all practising mindfulness – the new buzzword for the chronically anxious – felt the breeze blowing past, heard all the sounds of nature with an almost supernatural clarity and listened to our bodies, however abusive they were being.

 Pierre de Coubertin saw the Olympic Games as a chance for the young to exert themselves in useful and fulfilling ways. The idea of lifelong exercise wasn’t part of the early 20^th century equation, and in some ways that isn’t the Olympic Games emphasis now. In fact it is frequently stated that the aim is to get young people fired up with enthusiasm, and the athletes themselves are youthful and in the prime of life; why wouldn’t they appeal to people their age? It has to be said that the Games themselves – in their current incarnation - are really for the young.

 So what’s appealing about sport for the oldster? Just watching it isn’t the same thing at all. Taking part is the key. And perhaps it’s purely a cultural rather than a physical thing. In Christopher McDougall’s book about the Tarahumara tribe, people carry on ‘taking part’ as they age. Running, sometimes competing, is what life is all about in this neck of the woods, and people of all ages find it perfectly natural.

 There’s often something daunting and other-worldly about the performances turned in by the Olympians, who are so obviously different from the rest of us. To attain those heights would be impossible without that essential element of physical genius which is gifted to very few. So perhaps we need some less impressive sporting role models to provide us with a meaningful legacy for 2012: old ones, young ones, fast and slow ones: all sorts.

 Reference

 

Christopher McDougall

 Born to run: the hidden tribe; the ultra-runners and the greatest race never seen

London: Profile, 2009

 London reference collections shelfmark: YK.2010.a.16168

Simone Bacchini writes:

I have been in my current post and writing for this blog for just over a year now. It’s been busy but extremely interesting at the same time. In one of my earlier contributions to this blog, I wrote about my friends’ surprise - and indeed my own - at being asked to write about sport and the Olympics. If there is such thing as a sports gene, surely I must have been some place else when it was distributed (dozing off, most likely). Or so I thought. 

I’m not sure if my recent purchase of gym membership, and actually going, might be considered a materialisation of one of the promised legacies of London hosting the 2012 Games: more people becoming more physically active. And anyway, if you were to witness my pitiful performance on the treadmill or my trying to lift ludicrously small weights, you’d probably wish I hadn’t. What I am certain of, however, is the personal and professional ‘legacy’ of flexing my curatorial muscle to lift out of obscurity some of the many resources that the British Library can offer to people researching sport and its links with society. 

Over the past months, sometimes unaided but very often with the assistance of more experienced colleagues, I’ve come across a wealth of information and material on sport and the Olympics, the breadth of which is simply astounding. 

From black and white pictures of beefy men wearing leotards and Roman sandals to recorded interviews with ageing British athletes, telling of their training in their spare time to compete at the London 1948 Games. I have been fortunate enough to correspond with historians of football in Argentina and scholars of sport and disability in North America. Perusing the Library’s vast philatelic collection, I’ve been amazed by the ability of tiny bits of paper to help shed light on the significance of sporting events for national communities. Soon I’ll meet, you won’t believe this, the curator of our mediaeval manuscripts collection to find out how some of their materials could be of use to our Sport and Society website (I told you wouldn’t believe this – just wait and see). And how could I forget the time I was interviewed by a young schoolboy on the shape, size, and design of the medals for the 1908 Games? That was hard work. 

Whatever one thinks of London hosting the Olympics, and opinion is by no means unanimous, one thing is certain: it is a unique event that – for good or bad – will be discussed and analysed for years to come. Long after all the Olympians, Paralympians, dignitaries, and visitors have left, a wealth of material will be left behind for the researchers of the future. Hopefully, by using it they’ll be able to tell us more about not only the Games but also about us, as a nation. 

As a curator, my hope is that the material that will have been collected and presented on these virtual pages will be of help. It may not be an astonishing legacy, but it will be good enough for me. And the good news is you too can contribute to it. You can submit material or help us discover items we didn’t know we had or use known ones in novel ways. So, if you tire of the gym, track or swimming pool, pop into the Library.

It’s now well known that the Berlin Olympics of 1936 were the first at which a torch relay was introduced, and - as is clear from the official report of that Games - a lot of thought was put into the arrangements, with very careful planning in order to anticipate any problems; so that when some of the torches proved unexpectedly faulty in Yugoslavia and the torch bearers had to be whisked on their way by car before the flame went out, procedures were already in place to allow for the change in the schedule. The organisers in 1936 seem to have experienced something of a superstitious frisson at the prospect of the flame going out, so in addition to the torch itself, a car was driven alongside the runners containing another flame (with the same provenance of course) in a ‘ships lantern’. They don’t seem to have had to use it however.

The same amount of thought, if not more, has gone into the staging of all the torch relays since then, and London 2012 seems to be no exception. Apparently 95 per cent of the population will be no further than 10 miles away from the relay, which represents an impressive logistical achievement, bearing in mind that the relay has to take in all the principal tourist sights as well. An interview with Sebastian Coe on the BBC website gives this fact lots of emphasis; it is interesting, though, that Lord Coe doesn’t seem unduly concerned about the prospect of the flame going out. Apparently they’ve tested the torch in 35 mile an hour winds, and it seems to be doing the business. 

 Further details about the Olympic torch, and the torch bearers, have been recently released by LOCOG and I was somewhat surprised to learn that the greater part of the nominations for individuals to carry the flame have been given to the corporate sponsors, with only the magic number of 2012 nominations being made available for public vote. The sponsors themselves have made it clear that they will be using the same criteria as LOCOG when it comes to allocating their places, and that they will be awarding the honours to those who are considered to have deserved them. However, there is bound to be controversy about the sheer number of sponsor nominations -  amounting to nearly 6000 - and a lot of scrutiny will inevitably be applied to those who are chosen. In the media so far we have mainly been shown heart-warming pictures of very young and much older torch bearers, the iconic images being those of Dominic MacGowan (11) and Diana Gould (99).

 I blush to admit that I hadn’t known until recently that it isn’t one Olympic torch we’re talking about, but lots of them. It’s the flame that goes the whole way, being passed en route from one torch to the other. That means that at least 8000 will have to be manufactured, and seemingly the torch bearers will be allowed to buy the one they carry. In 1936, the official report tells us that “a special commemoration diploma was designed for the participants in the Olympic torch relay run” and that sounds to me like a good idea, and not so expensive an option souvenir-wise.

 The BBC has set up web pages dedicated to the torch relay for those interested in its many ramifications.

 http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-12004490

 

 

What is sometimes known as the ‘cult’ of amateurism has a long history in sport and sport research. Its implications and meaning can be seen as both benign and pernicious. Pierre de Coubertin saw the idea of amateur competition from the idealistic perspective of the Olympic Games revival, with its emphasis on healthy and amicable international rivalry undertaken for the love of sport itself. Other theorists see it in a darker light as betokening class exclusion and hypocrisy. And of course – as with most controversies - there is plenty of evidence for both these points of view.

The rapid approach of London 2012 is being reflected all around us, especially in TV advertising, with British athletes appearing for their commercial sponsors, and presumably being paid to do so, actions which would have rendered them ineligible to compete in the Games not so long ago. Ultimately, though, the amateur idea could not be sustained by an IOC which sought to maximise its own wealth and power through lucrative sponsorship deals. So the ‘cult’ has been unceremoniously dumped - at least in the Olympic arena.

The corporate and commercial nature of the Olympic Games is now firmly established and totally unequivocal. This has to be good for the elite athletes, who can freely market their skills and be amply rewarded for them. But how has this changed the way we regard the Olympic Games, and is there any room in the future for the ‘higher’ ideals that motivated people like de Coubertin? Would he subscribe to the ethos of the current Games or would he set about creating new ones, untainted by considerations of monetary reward?

The cult of amateurism in sport has had a bad press in academic circles because it has notoriously functioned – or at least historically - as an instrument of social exclusion; but in its original, literal form denoting a ‘lover’ of sport it still thrives among thousands of people who take part in sporting competition for its own sake. Will we see amongst these genuine amateurs a movement towards an Olympics-style competition which operates strictly on an amateur basis? Such a movement would feed into the ideas of some commentators that the Olympic Games have become impossibly large and corporate, and that they ought to be ‘de-mythologised’. For host nations too, in the present world recession, the demands and expectations which inevitably accompany the holding of an Olympics may have become too inflated and unrealistic to sustain. The unspoken idea that each Games have to be better than the last creates daunting challenges and effectively prevents less developed countries from acting as hosts. Do we really want the Olympics to be the sole province of the wealthier countries?

There is no gainsaying the fact that the Olympic Games as a spectacle are an enormous crowd pleaser. The drama and the excitement of watching elite athletes at their best could not easily be equalled in any other way. As sports fans, would we look forward so eagerly to a competition between less gifted athletes, in an atmosphere of strict practicality and a whole lot less razzmatazz? Perhaps we need to ask ourselves these questions honestly.

References

Eisenberg C , ‘Playing the market game: cash prizes, symbolic awards and the professional ideal in British amateur sport’ in Sport in history: journal of the British Society of Sports History 2011, vol 31(2) p197-217

DS shelfmark: 8419.623500

Amateurism in British sport: it matters not who won or lost? edited by Dilwyn Porter, Stephen Wagg. London: Routledge, 2008

London reference collections shelfmark: SPIS306.4830941

DS shelfmark: m08/11877

D.J Taylor, On the Corinthian spirit: the decline of amateurism in sport. London: Yellow Jersey, 2006

London reference collections shelfmark: YC.2010.a.6751

DS shelfmark: m06/27381

Allison, Lincoln Amateurism in sport: an analysis and a defence. London: F Cass, 2001

London reference collections shelfmark: YK.2001.a.12930

DS shelfmark: m01/33931

 

Simone Bacchini writes:

On 27 February 2012, I attended a one day conference on social sciences and the Olympic Games. Before you give your blogger too much credit for his effort to bring you new stories, I must confess that it didn’t take much effort, being held—as it was—only a few metres away from my office, in the British Library’s Conference centre. It was a joint event hosted by the British Sociological Association (BSA) Sociology of Sport & Recreation Studies Groups. 

The programme (http://bit.ly/zv7EuB) was particularly interesting, covering four areas: the Olympics, Space and the City; International and Transnational Development; Politics and Security; and The Olympic Games and Civil Society. 

Whereas all the speakers in the first three sections were academics, the two people, a man and a woman, who spoke in the last one, were not. They were members of the public; representatives—one might argue—of “the Big Society”. What the spoke about was the legacy of London 2012. Nothing new here, you might think; we’ve been hearing about it for quite some time and – surely- we’ll hear much more about it in the weeks, months, and possibly years to come. Or maybe we won’t. 

Yes, because the “legacy” those two people talked about was not the cosy, warm, reassuring concept that the term is associated with, especially in language about the Olympics. Whereas what I would call “the official legacy” is definitely reassuring and has unambiguous positive connotations, the “other” legacy doesn’t; quite the opposite. 

Conference delegates heard about evictions from homes in the Clays Lane Housing Estate and compulsory purchase orders. We heard about the destruction of the Manor Gardens Allotments to make space for the Olympic Park and the distress this caused to people who had been growing flowers and vegetables there for years. Some gardeners – we were told – had even dispersed their dead relatives’ ashes over those small corners of urban soil. 

Both speakers were adamant that they did not want to be seen and portrayed as victims. And there was nothing in what they said that made me think they were ideologically opposed to London – or any other city, for that matter – hosting the Games. These were not ‘spoilsports’ – a tag which sometimes too hastily attached to those who voice concern about large events. They were, quite simply, ordinary Londoners. 

It was instructive to hear their experiences. I was particularly impressed by a comment made by the woman from the allotments. She said that after starting campaigning about the issue, she receive a phone call from an academic who wanted to hear more. She was pleasantly surprised to hear that the issues she was facing were not unique. What was happening to her had happened in other parts of the world, to other people, and had been the object of academic research. So there it was, a revelation: academic research, social research can truly affect people positively. But is this an “impact” that can really be measured by Government bodies? 

I’m glad I was present at the conference. I believe that it is important – and one of the duties of social research – that all voices are heard. Call them dissenting voices, or simply different voices, it doesn’t matter. For listening to them will not result in no more Olympics; on the contrary: it will give us better ones.