Can the Russian women win in Rotterdam?

This morning, I wanted to reflect on the present, and the near future. Only 9 days to go till the World Championships in Rotterdam (well, podium training begins in 9 days). Can the Russian women win? What is the significance of this competition to them? Is it possible to predict the outcome of a competition? Does it matter who takes the medals?

What is ‘winning’, anyway? We all know that medals will be distributed in team, all-around, and event finals, and that huge emotional significance is attached to world titles. And not just for the competitors - I personally will cry buckets if Russia win any kind of gold. But let’s be pragmatic. Rotterdam is only a step on the way to the London 2012 Olympics, and all the athletes there must tread a precarious psychological pathway between living in the now, and preparing for the future, en route to probably the biggest experience of their lives (which some of them may not make). Rotterdam is merely a battle, not the whole war. And for the Russians, one senses that a greater war exists even than the Olympics: that of shaping the sport.

In Rotterdam, the team competition seems to me to be the biggest ‘fish’ that the Russians might want to try to catch. But I consider this to be an extremely difficult feat, as the competition format of 6-3-3 does not suit their approach to the sport.

Some would say that this comes down to psychological vulnerability and, sure, we have seen brilliant Russian teams fail somewhat in the heat of competition, most notably the 2000 Russian Olympic team. This must have been a massive blow to the self-belief of those gymnasts and I believe it infected the whole of the Russian system, contributing to the sharp decline we saw in the years between Sydney and Beijing.

Beyond this, however, I do not believe that there is anything that makes Russian gymnasts more intrinsically vulnerable psychologically than any others. We all remember the impression of invincibility that the Soviet women had, and compare Russian teams with them, but forget that Soviet success was forged on the basis of strength in depth, with gymnasts drawn from 15 nations. And critically, the team competition format in those days of 6-6-5 allowed for a balancing out of individual disasters. Remember Shushunova and Omelianchik’s failures on bars in 1985 and Yurchenko’s fall from the bars in the all around final in the same year?

Yet these gymnasts’ names live on as legends of the sport. Why? Because their gymnastics somehow captured the imagination; they were innovative and took risk: their gymnastics was imbued with balletic charm and expression. Even when they didn’t win the gold medal, they managed to hold the moral and creative leadership of the sport. 6-6-5 was a good format because it supported teams in developing their skills base and in trying out new, risky elements. It meant the sport could progress and change rapidly. As opposed to 6-3-3 which tests nothing more than stolid reliability. And as the Code at least partly dictates the kind of performances we see on the competition podium (Barker-Ruchti, 2009 provides an interesting framework based on the work of Foucault), gymnastics has become, mostly, stolid and reliable.

Which brings me to the main point of this piece – at last!, I hear you say. The Russians, with their liking for risk, are fundamentally at odds with a competition format that favours reliability. It is in their bones to embrace risk. Risk is what the sport needs to make it red-blooded once more, and risk is the only way that any country should merit leadership of the sport, rather than enjoying the fleeting moment of a gold medal. What Russia must do at this competition is show gymnastics that will remind us that Risk, Innovation and Virtuosity are central to their vision of gymnastics.

This will take significant courage, and I believe that a team that includes Afanasyeva, Mustafina, Nabieva and Dementieva has a better than average chance of success. Look at the manner of their performance (especially Afanasyeva), and the astonishing risky new elements they are introducing to the sport (Mustafina, Nabieva and Dementieva). Now, they have to show us their self-belief, and make gymnastics audiences fall silent once more. They do not need the gold medal to achieve this.

If the gold medallists in Rotterdam are anything but Russian, they will probably have a look of fear on their faces – the sound of rapidly overtaking footsteps will most probably be echoing around the stadium.

Reference

Barker-Ruchti, N (2009) 'Ballerinas and Pixies: A Genealogy of the Changing Female Gymnastics Body' International Journal of the History of Sport Vol 26 No 1, pp 45-62