My Olympic Hero - how will I name my hero in a sport full of heroes, in a Games full of heroes - in a world full of heroes?

My Olympic Hero

 

How will I name my hero in a sport full of heroes, in a Games full of heroes – in a world full of heroes?

 

The whole pretext of the 2020 Olympic Games is unique.  Globally, the Covid pandemic made the Olympics a fearful, questionable, celebration of global survival, a memorial of so many lost.    The Tokyo Games asked as many questions as it provided answers.  Could we afford the luxury of an in person gathering to celebrate athletic achievement and to act out world harmony?   At our first ever digital Olympics, how would the sport, the competition in the field, act out?   

 

Our sport – artistic gymnastics – began the Games with an enormous dark cloud overhanging.  Sport in general has become too big for its boots.  Political, social and commercial issues far outweigh the wellbeing of athletes.  The IOC, FIG, national federations, coaching and medical consortia have forgotten and abandoned their responsibility for athlete welfare.  Sport has become commodified and its amateur roots have been lost.  A massive power imbalance now exists globally.  The clearest evidence of this is the physical and emotional abuse suffered by the American gymnasts while under the care of the USA Gymnastics Federation, USAG.  This has turned into a global sporting catastrophe as we question the whole basis of elite sport and its win-at-all-costs mentality.  The villains of this piece are the administrators, publicists, coaches, doctors, journalists, dignitaries and fans who have quietly allowed unkind practices, and lowered their eyes when abuse was in plain view.  The heroes of this piece are, as always, the athletes who behaved themselves with such dignity as they lived through their nightmares, told their stories, then faced their fellow competitors with such warmth and generosity back on the competition floor, or wherever they lead their lives today. 

 

The words ‘hero’ and ‘Tokyo Olympics’ can’t be spoken without mentioning Simone Biles.  Of course, Simone is the real hero of these Games for the honesty and transparency of her withdrawal, for the natural joy she showed in supporting her fellow athletes from all over the world, and simply for showing us that world record breaking athletes are only human, after all.  Simone shows us the true spirit of the Olympics (international peace and friendship) and I think her influence was seen on the competition floor as gymnasts shared joy in their sporting achievements, whether they won a medal or not. 

 

We, the gymternet, deserve mention as we move into another phase and become established as part of the sport.  One of the characteristics of these Games has been the diversity (style, nationality and/or ethnicity, ability) of the competitors.  We have all been able to celebrate the achievements of our favourites; my personal high point was to see Rebecca Andrade medal in the AA and win the vault final after so many years in the shadows.   Gold medallists in the women’s sport came from Russia, USA, Brazil, Belgium and China, in the men’s sport from Russia, Japan, Israel, Great Britain, China, South Korea.  This year we all seem to have been able to find something to celebrate – is it that we are so grateful to have some sense of community again after so long in isolation? 

One thing I didn’t like so much was the number of times gymnasts broke down in tears after their routines.  I don’t like the thought that the stress and pressure of the Olympics led to so much pent-up emotion.  Tears of joy are one thing.  Competing at an Olympics is surely the high point of any athlete’s sporting career.  But tears of despair on the Olympic floor seem to me to be inexpressibly sad, especially from ones so young.  Perhaps I am just not being realistic here; but I wish there were a way that sports competition could be rendered more positive for the majority of competitors who don’t medal, or maybe don’t even make a final, or finish last.  You won a place to compete at the Olympics, you finished in fourth place in a final, you completed your routines, you turned up and you trained really well, these are all things to celebrate.  Every athlete at every competition is a winner.

 

So, finally, who is my Russian Olympic hero, the one whose contribution I want to elevate and celebrate and make a noise about?  Russia found itself in an enviable position this year: it won both team finals.  The last time this happened was in 2008 when China won double gold on home ground; before that, the Unified Team in 1992 (but there was only one Russian woman and one Russian man on each of these teams).  This year, the Russian men won the team gold for the first time in 25 years (1996 was their first ever team gold, when the gymnasts arguably had benefitted from the legacy effect of training with the Soviet Union).  The Russian women won gold as a team for the first time ever in my lifetime. 

 

These victories represent huge psychological breakthrough moments for the teams, and in both cases gradual changes in the coaching teams have made a difference.  Valery Alfosov is now the national coach for the men, Olga Bulgakova for the women, and in addition to their personal coaches at home the gymnasts are supported by large and continually evolving teams of specialists and medical staff at the national training centre.  While Andrei and Valentina Rodionenko still remain in place (and no doubt had a huge influence on the way the coaching teams have developed), it is plain that fresh approaches have made the difference.  Self-belief and prioritising the team, more than individual chances, are at the heart of Russian gymnastics for now.  I am expecting that Andrei and Valentina will both receive huge recognition and reward from the Russian Government over the coming year as they gradually back into Honorary roles and, hopefully, a long and healthy retirement.  Andrei has held the reins since 2006, at a time of great change in the sport internationally and locally, and has established a good team morale where gymnast welfare and health have been a priority.  He has mentored a new generation of young coaches with fresh energy to transform into a modern, innovative and powerful team what could have become an aging and ailing system.  At the same time as sports participation levels in Russia have plummeted, there has been development and investment across the regional gymnastics powerhouses of the largest land mass in the world.  Russia could not even compete at this Olympics in its own right as it became a pariah-state following the findings of mass, state-sponsored doping in certain other sports disciplines.  Gymnastics has kept a clean slate through all the years of Rodionenko’s leadership and now looks ready to keep fighting. 

 

So there is significant reason for Russia to celebrate in gymnastics, and I’m going to have two heroes of Russian gymnastics this year, one for MAG and the other for WAG.  For MAG my choice is David Belyavski.  You all know the story of the men’s team gold: how Artur Dalaloyan showed immense courage to compete with a barely-healed Achilles tendon in order to help his team to gold; how Nikita Nagorny showed his best for the team and roared like a lion when his final score gave Russia the win.  Truth is, they are all heroes, but Belyavski is my hero: for always turning up and competing at his best, and often beyond his best; for being the light, quiet gymnast of enormous style and perfection, the lithe cheetah in a team of fierce and fearsome tigers.  For being a captain, a gentleman, a cool and calculating leader of loud, aggressive youngsters full of ambition.  For providing foresight and a strategy on the competition floor, and lighting the fire of motivation when panic could easily have set in.  For not complaining one little bit when his place in the AA was taken away by a younger, injured team member; for saying ‘sometimes it’s just not your day’ when he left his individual finals without a medal.  For giving his gold medal to his little girl, Alyssia.  Belyavski is my hero, because he’s an Olympian, through and through, and the team matters to him more than anything.  Because, at the age of 29, he wants to keep training and competing.  He is a hero for all times, past, present and future.

 

My second hero, for the women, is Viktoria Listunova.  It’s a hard choice, because Angelina Melnikova too deserves recognition for her long-term contribution and the amazing work she put in as team captain.  Slava Urazova, my ‘Boguinskaia’ of this team, was the best lead off gymnast Russia have had in many years, and deserves significant acclaim for her steady, well performed and expressive gymnastics, so unique in this age of the sport.  But Listunova is my choice of hero, she is the one who has stolen my heart.  Listunova because she is the youngest one, and the one in the end who gave her all when her team needed her.  Listunova because she stepped up onto the beam at the most pressured moment of the team final and gave the Russians their best score on the apparatus, when other Russians would have surrendered.  Listunova, because she performed the most forgotten, but most memorable, floor exercise of the team competition to put Melnikova into the right place to win the gold for the team.  Listunova, because she didn’t complain about missing the AA final at all, even when her performances made her a favourite for the gold medal.  Listunova because her potential for medals on bars, beam and floor all make her unique.  Listunova because she dances on floor when others so often only pose; for her hands and arms, so expressive and mobile.  For her little face, so strong and determined.  For all the medals she will, hopefully, fight for in the future.

 

And for Russia, who remain my favourite team, in my favourite sport, for all time …