Let’s hear it for the losers

THE organisers of the 2012 Olympics have been keen to share some of the extraordinary statistics that relate to the Games. At the heart of the Games, over the next 16 days, 10,500 athletes from around the world will compete for a share of 362.4 kilograms of metalware. In a fair world, that would be about 3.5 grams each, but, of course, that is not how sport works. Instead, fewer than 900 athletes will receive medals (taking into account winners of multiple events), meaning that 90 per cent will return home empty-handed. Shortly afterwards, 4200 Paralympians will compete for 1500 medals. The proportion differs, but the division of winners and losers is the same.

This does not mean, however, that the unmedalled athletes will leave unrewarded. Many will be disappointed, of course, especially if they perform less well than they have in the past. But the knowledge that they are in the top handful in their sport ought to be a consolation, as well as the experience of competing in front of such large and, we are confident, sympathetic crowds. Spectators and competitors are, naturally enough, caught up in the fantasy of outperforming others, touching the end of the pool first or throwing an object further than others. Nobody dreams of being eighth (although see below). But the Olympians who fail to make it to the podium are, arguably, more important than the gilded few. The gold-medal winners, promoters of shampoo, razor, and watch, have a function, in that they feed the fantasy that drags the public out of its lethargy and enables it to feel pride by association, usually national. The gulf is growing, however, between the élite athlete and the commoner, so that, for most, cycling, running, throwing, diving, and generally living at such a peak remains a fantasy.

This is where the losers come in. It is, of course, an unfair term, since those outside the medals are as dedicated, sacrificial, and heroic as their peers. Triers would be a better name, since, whereas the successful are marked by their prizes, these are known only for their effort. But it is seeing that effort that inspires others to stop dreaming and take part. These are the athletes who can be seen in community sports clubs, working alongside ordinary mortals, not off in some international training complex. These are the ones who struggle on less than £14,000 a year of Lottery funding, since UK Sport, which organises athletics, is officially dedicated to medal-chasing ("a policy direction of delivering medal success"), and channels most of its funds to those on the podium (£27,700 p.a.) or in the top eight (£20,800).

If the organisation, the publicity machine, and the sponsors, dazzled by the glister of success, have just one metallic measure of success, the public can have another, more human one, honouring those athletes who have most in common with them, and who strive without the consolation of medals.