Between the Olympian and the audience, between her or his no-hope-for-medal attempts and our ridiculous fantasies, there will, as always, fall a shadow

Within a few hours of reading this piece, you will watch the opening ceremony of London 2012 trigger a wave of expectations around the globe. In the days to come, millions will remain glued to TV to witness sportspersons define anew the Olympic motto of faster, higher, stronger. You will watch with bated breath the spectacle of athletes stretch the limit of human endurance and achievement beyond what you had imagined. Triumphs will be celebrated, a breaking of the existing record trumpeted, and you will keep an eye on the medal tally of countries in the hope yours too could bag a few.
Yet, once again, you will be sorely disappointed. The human quest for Olympic medals is as insatiable as it is for wealth — the more you have it, the more you want it; the less you have, the more absurd are your fantasies. Having won a gold and two bronze medals in Beijing, sports aficionados in India already have their hopes soaring for a spectacular performance in London. The fury of a nation disappointed has no parallel. Nepal’s Tilak Ram Tharu and Pakistan’s Liaqat Ali have been given a wild card entry in the 100 m race, arguably the showpiece of the Olympics, but for all the hope invested in them you can be sure they won’t reach the final for deciding the world’s fastest man. Olympic events are not as unpredictable as a cricket match, where tailenders can score a 50 as they have indeed done many times.
Between the Olympian and the audience, between his or her aspirations and our expectations, between her or his no-hope-for-medal attempts and our ridiculous fantasies, there will, as always, fall a shadow. It is a shadow arising from our ignorance of the nature of competition in the international sports arena, from taking a seat before TV during the Olympics and ignoring the national sports competition, from living in a globalised world in which the international standards become our benchmark to judge, often condemn, our athletes.
The Olympian, unlike you, has a clear picture of what is to unfold over the next fortnight. Let us face the bitter truth: despite the Olympics being considered global in its sweep, it is a contest confined to a handful of countries and a few stragglers. The bulk of the 10,500 sportspersons participating in Olympics 2012 knew even a year before that they would return from London empty-handed. These no-hopers, unlike you, will not be disappointed. Their hearts, later in their lives, will swell with pride at the memory of London 2012, and they will likely print visiting cards announcing, ‘Olympian’.
Are you surprised? Well then, you need to fathom the Olympic system and the psychology of the sportsperson. Take the 100 meters. For London 2012, there were two qualifying standards — A and B — for the race. A country could enter three athletes in case all three met the A Standard (10.18 seconds for men) or one in case its athletes met the B Standard (10.24 seconds). In fixing a quota, the system ensured the 100 meters race will not feature athletes from just a few countries, each boasting many athletes capable of running faster than the qualifying time. This does not dilute the competition in any way. For a better understanding, take Liaqat Ali, whose best is 10.1 seconds, albeit measured manually and likely wide off the mark. At a conservative estimate, there will be 60 sprinters who have consistently run faster than him. He does not stand a sliver of chance to win a medal. By comparison, India’s Tintu Luka fares better in her event of 800 meters, having only 25 women who have consistently reported a better timing than her. Yet even a relatively weaker field will not fetch Luka a medal in London 2012.
The unique aspect of most non-team Olympic sports, in contrast to other pursuits in life, is that we can grade the competitors, sift the excellent from the mediocre, on the basis of certain objective criteria. It is the speed at which they run, the weight they can lift, the distance to which they can throw, and the height to which they can jump. These do not and cannot change remarkably over a short span of time; there is no barrier man cannot hope to breach, yet every individual has his or her own limits, and these are known to their competitors. Even in team games, say, hockey, a country placed 10th in the field of 12 could spring a surprise or two, but most certainly will not return with a gold medal.
The psychology of the sportsperson perplexes you. What is his/her mental condition even though they know they will not go beyond the heats? Does this knowledge diminish their enthusiasm and affect them physically? Or do they live in a cuckoo land, willing to believe in impossible dreams? No doubt, sports are about competition, evaluation and creation of a hierarchy of time, weight, and distance. Yet a sports competition operates at two levels — you run against others, and you run against yourself, your past, what you had thought you were capable of. A competition, like London 2012, will hope to push the limits of human endurance, as we know it. The non-hoper, the non-contender for a medal, will strive to better his performance. It is a consequence of the inexplicable, mysterious energy bubbling to find expression, however futile it might seem to the audience.
Perhaps this explains why a surfeit of national records is broken in international games even though the record-breaker finds he has been knocked out in the heats. Perhaps a stiffer competition spurs the individual to scale the acme of his or her capacities, redefining their own understanding of higher, swifter, and stronger. Into the zone they slip, oblivious to the remarks of the ignorant and the cynic, and digging deep into themselves for surpassing themselves. Perhaps it is a matter of immense satisfaction for them to be found worthy to rub shoulders against, say, Usain Bolt, much like an unknown writer sharing the stage with a Nobel Prize winner at a literary festival.
Not all sportspersons necessarily have this psychology. For some, particularly of those countries lagging in sports, qualifying for the Olympics is a goal achieved; the ensuing competition a formality they must go through for earning the status of Olympian and acquiring prestige among peers in his or her country. In them cannot be found the desire to surpass themselves. For a good many, predetermined not to win a medal, London 2012 will be an opportunity to travel abroad and party hard and fast. Not for nothing has Durex supplied 150,000 free condoms for the Games in London, that is, 15 condoms each for the 10,500 sportspersons participating there.
As you watch the Olympics from July 27 to August 12, as you feel disheartened at the inability of your country’s athletes to bag medals, compare their performance in London to their past record and that of your national competition before passing a harsh judgement. Forget this line quoted, “Winning isn’t everything; it’s the only thing.” Remember, winning is not everything; winning against yourself is.

The writer is a Delhi-based journalist and can be reached at ashrafajaz3@gmail.com

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