Clinging on to my starry-eyed version of London 2012: Why we need to sort out sport’s toxic culture for future generations
Wenlock & Mandeville- 2012 Mascots
I have a plush toy that has sat on my desk for over a decade now. The mini Wenlock, the 2012 Olympic mascot, is everything that the London legacy is to me. That toy serves as a compelling reminder of the innocence of the young girl who bought it, and it is the reason I am so horrified by recent comments surrounding the bleak consequences of the Games. “Inspire a Generation” was plastered everywhere in 2012, and at 9 years old, that was a really exciting concept. I knew nothing of what one coach has since described this as “peripheral crap”. So that’s what Wenlock is for me - he perpetuates the simplicity of competing purely for the love of it. Honestly, what I’d give to be that naïve again...
Ask me when I fell in love with sport, and I’ll talk to you all day about the London 2012 Olympics. Ask me about my childhood hero, and I’ll tell you a great story about how Jessica Ennis-Hill was the most extraordinary human I’d ever seen. Ask me what keeps me coming back every day to chase my own personal wins, and I’ll do my best to describe to you the extremes of human emotion I felt vicariously as I watched Super Saturday unfold. 10 years later, I’m still so emotionally attached to the magic of London 2012 that I might be tempted to refuse to hear a bad word said about it. However, I do resist those temptations; the concerns raised around the darker side of the London legacy are deeply worrying. They are a million miles from what my 9 year-old self with a toy mascot in my hand could possibly have imagined, yet today they are an everyday discussion.
Naturally, 10 years on from London 2012, there is much talk of what the legacy has really turned out to be. It’s easy for the media to focus on issues such as obesity levels, the use of facilities, jobs, housing, financial problems or investment to create opportunities. However, look a bit deeper and you’ll find stories aplenty from the very top of elite sport about how the spirit of the sport took a turn for the worse. Even as a young athlete nowhere near that level of competition, I have no trouble believing what I’m reading. From staff walking away because they felt athletes’ wellbeing was being neglected, to athletes anonymously describing how they were encouraged to take drugs by team doctors, it is all sadly far too plausible. Plus, since 2012, there have been bullying investigations in several sports, where these kinds of stories have been proven true.
We’ve just witnessed a spectacular Commonwealth Games in Birmingham, and again we are talking about legacy. Sport England have been clear that they want the Games to result in more active communities, and address inequalities through doing so - perhaps a nod to the failings of London 2012. But what about addressing the medals-at-all-costs culture that continues to flood sport? Watching the Commonwealth Games, I see myself in the inspired 9 year-olds with their Perry the Bull mascot toys that may well sit on their desks for the decade to come. - Are governing bodies just going to let these young people grow up to discover that the sport they fell in love with at Birmingham 2022 is plagued with issues of athlete mistreatment, or will we ever listen to the people who are saying right now that major mistakes have been made?
When precisely sport became infested with a culture that often puts performance above literally everything else, I don’t think we can ever be sure. It has been a process, but there are pivotal points, and I think the harsh reality is that London 2012 was one of those points. Personally, I’ve grown up witnessing a disturbing drive to create teenage superstars, all the while neglecting the health and wellbeing - both physical and mental - of the athletes. The amount of young people I’ve competed alongside over the years who were tipped for the top, and are now completely disengaged, is something I find quite genuinely upsetting.
Jess in 2012 meeting London Olympics Triathlon Champion Alistair Brownlee
To be absolutely clear, I am not bashing competitive sport and I certainly am not bashing the Olympic movement; I truly believe it is one of the most powerful things in the world and that, in the majority of cases, young people are better off involved in it than not. But when we are hearing some of the best athletes in the country (and some anonymously) saying something has gone wrong, and young people are able to resonate with the elite’s stories, then we have a real and growing problem that has clearly filtered all the way down from the very top. However, those of us who were pulled into competitive sport by London 2012, those of us who consider ourselves part of the ‘inspired generation’ - we are the people who can turn this around. I highly doubt I’m the only one who can pinpoint the moments where I began to realise there was more to taking a sport seriously than simply working my butt off at something I love, and I highly doubt I am the only one who wants to see change. In fact, I know I am not the only one who believes we can make it better. For all that we are sometimes labeled “woke” or “the snowflake generation”, most of us are actually just very aware of the disappointing differences between our childhood dreams and reality.
Yes, part of growing up is that we learn we do not live in a perfect world, but I’m a big believer that we let go of far too much of our childhood irrationality. No, we will never have a perfect world, but I know for sure we are missing an unjustified amount of the perceivably untainted spirit gifted to our generation by London 2012. Sadly, not everyone has experienced the London legacy in the way that many athletes my age have. Still, for that very reason, perhaps we can be the ones who bring that magic to the forefront again. I have full faith in our ability to read the difficult stories about London 2012 and take notice; we have the sense to see that no matter big or small these worrying accounts are in number, they all indicate the presence of threat to both the purity we all fell in love with 10 years ago, and the purity that today’s children are falling in love with from the Birmingham Commonwealth Games.
“We are the inspired generation, and we should envision our own legacy through the starry eyes of our 2012-selves”
I recently heard a psychologist observe that we tend to ask children what they want to be when they grow up, when perhaps we should instead ask them who they want to be. I didn’t want to win Ennis’s gold medal so much as I wanted to emulate her strength and determination, and today’s kids don’t necessarily want Eilish McColgan’s sprint finish so much as they aspire to have her level of devotion and resilience. A well-rounded young person and their strength of character will go a hell of a lot further in any endeavor they grow up to choose than a burnt-out athlete who’s joy has been flushed away by a dysfunctional culture’s skewed definition of success. The powers that be ought to think about that.
We cannot ignore the issues raised by the athletes who have concerns about the London legacy; we are the very people who can ensure their words lead to real and lasting change. We do not want to put the burden on the kids experiencing Birmingham 2022 , leaving them to have these same conversations 10 years from now- we have to change our ways now I know better than to be blinded by my own heartfelt gratitude for how the 2012 Olympics changed my life, but I will also make no apology for it. The kind of results-at-all-costs culture that many elite athletes say has emerged has indeed fed down into youth sport, and far too many of us have felt it first-hand. But somewhere in each of us who were fortunate enough to,at the time, see nothing but the brilliance of London 2012 lies a memory of impeccable passion and the remnants of pure inspiration; that is the power of sport. We are the inspired generation, and we should envision our own legacy through the starry eyes of our 2012-selves.
