Popcorn and superstars
The battle in the minds of our sporting heroes
Poor mental health may not itself be contagious, but talking about it suddenly is. For just over a year the world’s greatest sportsmen and women have lived a surreal, bubbled existence for our televised pandemic pleasure. Naomi Osaka, Simone Biles, Ben Stokes - each time we’ve reached from our sofas for more popcorn, another star has succumbed to the pressures of an existence that once seemed gilded, but now caged.
It is unarguable that our sporting heroes have a right to healthy minds. But the flood of ‘analysis’ of Biles’ struggle with ‘the twisties’, and presumptions of what it must be like to have been Stokes through the Covid crisis, suggest that scrutiny of the stars stepping back from their professions may become even more intense than that which triggered their very public admissions of vulnerability.
Modern media has allowed athletes to connect directly with us through our screens, diminishing the influence of the governing bodies that organise sport and have effectively owned it. While stars have been quick to seize control of their personal narratives online – usually curated for them by their agents – it is possible that the explosive growth of social media has simply transferred the feeling of ownership from the organisers of sport to us, the fans. Is it now even more stressful to dance to our cacophony of demands to be entertained and our desires for vicarious success?
There is clearly some distinction between pressure through a long period of preparation to perform on the biggest stage, and pressure to perform repeatedly at the highest level. If an athlete can’t cope with the former then others will be waiting to seize their crown. If asked to peak too often, an entire sport is jeopardised by a sea of mediocre competition featuring tired bodies and minds. Cricket, golf, tennis, to name but three guilty parties.
As fans, our part in any compact with our heroes should be to understand just what it takes for them to reach a peak and to view their triumphs and near misses accordingly. And to resist the dangled pay-per-view temptation to binge on mediocre events.
Britain’s below-par medal haul in the Olympic rowing regatta in Tokyo has laid bare the challenge of balancing mental health against the pursuit of success. One bronze medallist rower hit out at the uncompromising style of former head coach Jürgen Gröbler, whose surprise departure last year has been cited by some previous Olympians as a key factor in GB’s decline from its previous pre-eminence.
Sir Steve Redgrave’s reported retort: “If we want a soft approach, we will have to expect softer results.”
And of course Redgrave’s right. There’s a fine line though between coaches working with athletes in the shared, intense pursuit of excellence, having a common understanding and acceptance of what is required, and a coach pushing beyond what is explicitly and implicitly agreed between them. The very best coach-athlete pairs have that agreement and live by it.
One Olympic medallist recounted to me the time her coach very publicly criticised her weight in the dining room at a warm-weather training camp. Rather than resenting his intervention, she considered it the right thing to do at the time to jolt her. A crude and dangerous tactic maybe, but reflective of a coach who really understood this athlete – including the limits of her mental resilience – and the fine margins of the sport that they were operating together in.
Three vignettes from behind the scenes of Tokyo 2020. I congratulated one very successful performance director who replied, “so stressful”; one just-as-chipper CEO of a multi-medal winning sport who confirmed, “as you know these things take a lot of work”; and another chief executive who is concerned that no-one is looking out for the mental health of the people behind the athletes.
It is no wonder that after every Games there is a huge churn of performance directors, coaches, sports scientists, medics and other support staff, many needing a long break before looking for their their next Olympic gig. It’s not just the athletes who suffer for our enjoyment.
Pounds per hundred
Purely in the interests of research for Sport inc. you’ll understand, I’m soon to spend a day at the Lords Test and an afternoon/evening at The Hundred on either side of a weekend. One promises at least 540 balls of cricket (weather permitting) and the other up to 400 across men’s and women’s matches. My emailed tickets have just arrived. The Test ticket cost £155, or 29p a ball, The Hundred £12, or 3p a ball. Can the former really be ten times as entertaining on a per ball basis? I’ll report back on the ECB’s gamble on the future of cricket.