Modern Pentathlon loses a limb
29th November 2008
The Olympic movement is in disarray after the IOC’s sub-committee for Failing, Unpopular and Just Plain Stupid Sports has decided to reduce the Modern Pentathlon from five events to four.
“The Modern Pentathlon is the silliest event in the Olympics,” asserted IOC spokesperson, Eva Botticelli. “It is not modern so we thought, what the hell, it might as well not be a pentathlon either.”
The Modern Pentathlon is certainly not modern. The brainchild of Baron Pierre de Coubertin, the founder of the modern Olympics, the event was first held about the time the Titanic went down. De Coubertin designed it to embody the ideals of the Olympic movement by gathering into a single event all the qualities of a “modern” soldier. Competitors must shoot an air pistol, fence, swim for 200 metres, ride a horse that is unknown to them over a showjumping course and run 3,000 metres.
Let’s break this down to see just how silly it is. Air pistols? How many armed servicemen or women go into the field of battle with an air pistol? Air pistols are the property of 12 year old boys who shoot at cans and the family hamster.
Fencing and swimming regularly descend into acrimony and were the cause of New Zealand’s Most Embarrassing Olympic Moment when, in 1948, our sole ModPen competitor, Rusty Robertson, formed the mistaken view that he had to construct 200 metres of fencing. Rusty had uncoiled 3 chain of barbed wire across the Olympic stadium before astonished officials dragged him away.
“A horse that is unknown to them” has strained the credibility of the Modern Pentathlon since its inception. Organisers have gone to ludicrous lengths to keep competitors and horses apart, even billeting them in separate countries on occasions. The 1968 winner, Russian Iva Revolstky, was stripped of his medal when photographs revealed him drinking in a bar with his horse the night before the competition.
The IOC’s latest decision is to merge the shooting and running events (I am not making this up) to “restore the credibility of the Modern Pentathlon and give it more audience appeal.” This is NOT A GOOD IDEA. It beggars belief that a sport already confined to a handful of competitors would place its remaining participants in such jeopardy. It will lead to scenes not witnessed since Gunsmoke.
The curious reasoning behind the decision is revealed in the ModPen Federation’s newsletter, Shoot Bang Fire! The newsletter reveals the intense pressure placed upon IOC officials by so-called ‘demonstration’ sports seeking places in the Olympic pantheon. Chief among these is line dancing and the newsletter reveals a history of bad blood between these two disciplines.
“The Modern Pentathlon must never give up its Olympic place to line dancing,” urges one contributor.
“Line dancing’s inclusion would forever besmirch the ideals of Pierre de Coubertin,” exclaims another outraged pentathlete.
The Line Dancers’ Collective has responded by surrounding the IOC’s headquarters in Brussels. Riot police called to the scene are reported to be joining the dancers in their protest.
In a further twist it has been revealed that de Coubertin intended the five events of the Modern Pentathlon to represent the five circles of the Olympic logo. With just a four-event pentathlon the IOC now faces having to drop one of the circles.
“Our view is that Oceania will be dropped,” says Botticelli. “After all, it is just a piece of ocean with Australia in the corner. We can shift Australia into the Asian circle and those other silly little countries will disappear under rising sea levels anyway.”
IOC officials, embarrassed at the prospect of a four-legged pentathlon, have suggested a compromise. Eva Botticelli continues: “we are investigating the inclusion of line dancing as the 5th event in the Modern Pentathlon. We believe this is a satisfactory compromise that will revitalize the sport and more accurately reflect the qualities of the modern soldier.”
Discussions continue.
Friday, November 28, 2008
2011 election campaign has begun
15th November 2008
Comparisons in the media between the New Zealand and American elections have been unflattering to us. Our election, they say, was dull. It lacked personalities, momentum and any glimmer of history-in-the-making. If it’s true that the campaign never reached great heights this is simply because we hadn’t sunk to the depths of America under Bush. Our outgoing government was not an administration of ideologically driven numbskulls. And although we rewrote recent history by electing a male Prime Minister this is nothing compared to Obama’s epoch-making victory.
But if the campaign was dull the events of the past week have made up for it. Overnight our political landscape is transformed and like show-ponies on Cup Day all parties are scrambling to cover ground.
National, isolated for years by an MMP system that threw up few allies on the right, is suddenly everybody’s best mate. Quick-fire deals with ACT, United Future and the Maori Party have left Labour out in the chook shed with just the Greens and Progressives for company.
Why has John Key stitched up deals with so many partners? After all, he doesn’t need the votes of all these small parties and he knows there will be a cost to running a government that includes both Rodney Hide and Pita Sharples. National’s deal-making this week is really the first shot in the 2011 election campaign. They know that the next election is unlikely to be so kind to them and that they have three years to convince the electorate there is a natural grouping of interests in the centre right. This is why the deal with the Maori Party is particularly important. When the electoral mood swings back to the left ACT will dwindle but a centrist Maori Party will be an ally worth having.
And under Helen Clark’s tutelage National has learned a lesson or two about managing MMP. Labour’s decision in 2005 to run a minority government, criticised by National at the time and sneered at by right-wing columnists since, turns out to have been a good idea. It gives the minor partners in government at least the appearance of power while retaining the independence to keep their supporters on side.
This is important because, however risky MMP is for National and Labour, it can be lethal for small parties. ACT has a full hand of cards this week but it would have vanished completely in 2005 if National hadn’t thrown Rodney a lifeline in Epsom.
NZ First’s sudden death at the polls sends shivers through all the small parties. This was a party that once had 17 MPs, whose leader was Minister of Foreign Affairs, whose leader was Winston, for goodness sake. But without a safe electoral seat or 5% of the party vote it is nothing.
That one safe electoral seat can make or break an MMP government, which may be a weakness, depending on whose side you’re on. Only the Greens, through excellent branding, have managed to stay in parliament throughout MMP without an electorate seat. Others – Peter Dunne and Jim Anderton – cling to their seats like tiny life rafts.
NZ First’s best hope of getting back into Parliament is that sometime in the next three years a sitting MP has a falling out with his or her party and casts around for another vessel to sail back in on. Their 2011 election campaign should start now by ditching Winston, shoring up their networks and keeping an eye out for a potential sugar-daddy.
As for Labour, their behaviour this week has been most unbecoming for a party in defeat. The Clark and Cullen vanishing act has allowed them to move from wake to wedding with Hamletic swiftness. They seem almost buoyant in opposition and, with 43 MPs and an experienced leadership team, things could have been worse. As Treasury forecasts bleaken perhaps this wasn’t a bad election to lose. Suddenly 2011 doesn’t seem so far away.
The campaign has just begun.
15th November 2008
Comparisons in the media between the New Zealand and American elections have been unflattering to us. Our election, they say, was dull. It lacked personalities, momentum and any glimmer of history-in-the-making. If it’s true that the campaign never reached great heights this is simply because we hadn’t sunk to the depths of America under Bush. Our outgoing government was not an administration of ideologically driven numbskulls. And although we rewrote recent history by electing a male Prime Minister this is nothing compared to Obama’s epoch-making victory.
But if the campaign was dull the events of the past week have made up for it. Overnight our political landscape is transformed and like show-ponies on Cup Day all parties are scrambling to cover ground.
National, isolated for years by an MMP system that threw up few allies on the right, is suddenly everybody’s best mate. Quick-fire deals with ACT, United Future and the Maori Party have left Labour out in the chook shed with just the Greens and Progressives for company.
Why has John Key stitched up deals with so many partners? After all, he doesn’t need the votes of all these small parties and he knows there will be a cost to running a government that includes both Rodney Hide and Pita Sharples. National’s deal-making this week is really the first shot in the 2011 election campaign. They know that the next election is unlikely to be so kind to them and that they have three years to convince the electorate there is a natural grouping of interests in the centre right. This is why the deal with the Maori Party is particularly important. When the electoral mood swings back to the left ACT will dwindle but a centrist Maori Party will be an ally worth having.
And under Helen Clark’s tutelage National has learned a lesson or two about managing MMP. Labour’s decision in 2005 to run a minority government, criticised by National at the time and sneered at by right-wing columnists since, turns out to have been a good idea. It gives the minor partners in government at least the appearance of power while retaining the independence to keep their supporters on side.
This is important because, however risky MMP is for National and Labour, it can be lethal for small parties. ACT has a full hand of cards this week but it would have vanished completely in 2005 if National hadn’t thrown Rodney a lifeline in Epsom.
NZ First’s sudden death at the polls sends shivers through all the small parties. This was a party that once had 17 MPs, whose leader was Minister of Foreign Affairs, whose leader was Winston, for goodness sake. But without a safe electoral seat or 5% of the party vote it is nothing.
That one safe electoral seat can make or break an MMP government, which may be a weakness, depending on whose side you’re on. Only the Greens, through excellent branding, have managed to stay in parliament throughout MMP without an electorate seat. Others – Peter Dunne and Jim Anderton – cling to their seats like tiny life rafts.
NZ First’s best hope of getting back into Parliament is that sometime in the next three years a sitting MP has a falling out with his or her party and casts around for another vessel to sail back in on. Their 2011 election campaign should start now by ditching Winston, shoring up their networks and keeping an eye out for a potential sugar-daddy.
As for Labour, their behaviour this week has been most unbecoming for a party in defeat. The Clark and Cullen vanishing act has allowed them to move from wake to wedding with Hamletic swiftness. They seem almost buoyant in opposition and, with 43 MPs and an experienced leadership team, things could have been worse. As Treasury forecasts bleaken perhaps this wasn’t a bad election to lose. Suddenly 2011 doesn’t seem so far away.
The campaign has just begun.
RSA faces an uncertain future
1st November 2008
Hidden among the colossal news stories of the week is a snippet about the closure of the Lower Hutt RSA. Falling membership and financial strain have brought the club to its knees and, short of a miracle, it will fold. Gone. Kaput. The report says many other RSA clubs face a similar end.
At the Lower Hutt RSA the failure to attract new members is blamed on misunderstanding about the organisation. “People think we’re a bunch of old soldiers sitting around talking about the war, but I haven’t heard a war story in here for weeks,” said one member. But there can be no misunderstanding. Few organisations are more aptly named: the RSA is the Returned Services Association – a bunch of old soldiers. Perhaps the war stories have dwindled but its rationale remains the support of servicemen and women who have returned. Returned from what? From the battlefield; from what used to be called the ‘theatre of war.’
In which case the disappearance of RSA clubs should be something to celebrate, signifying as it does that we no longer participate in the large-scale acts of carnage that blighted or destroyed the lives of our young men and women in the past.
Did the founders of the RSA intend it to last forever? Were they so cynical? There is no doubt that the RSA is an icon of the ‘rugby, racing and beer’ generations, of weathered faces in smoke-filled rooms, of stern camaraderie and sober countenance. Some RSA clubs strive to break free of those images, to re-invent themselves for a new generation.
Lower Hutt’s neighbouring club, Porirua, recently ditched the military service requirement for members, throwing its doors open to the public. This has not gone down well with the old soldiers of Porirua and you have to wonder what the point is of having a Returned Servicemans’ Association open to everybody.
The Porirua plan appears to be the response of an organisation that has lost sight of itself. The economic imperatives driving the decision are the consequences of overly ambitious expansion. RSA clubrooms used to be just that; a room where members met, socialised and arranged small acts of charity. Over time many clubs expanded to include restaurants, bars and gaming parlours. They borrowed money to build bigger premises and it is the financial burden of these that now undermines the viability of the organisation as much as dwindling membership.
The Porirua RSA and others like it want to increase membership mainly to sustain their restaurants and bars, in which case they become no different than a hotel or working men’s club. Do the new members of the Porirua RSA participate in the other traditional roles of the club? Are they encouraged to march on ANZAC Day? Are they entitled to the benefits received by returned servicemen and women? Do they uphold the values of the club? Or is it just another watering hole?
This is one of those tiny stories that are compelling because they reveal a much bigger picture.
As a nation we are at a point of growth where, lizard-like, we are shaking off an old skin. Many of the structures that have served us well in the past will not be needed in the future. The RSA is just one of many organisations that struggle at this time. Churches, service clubs and voluntary groups all confront their relevance in the new society. Many respond by rebranding themselves: the WDFF becomes Rural Women, churches embrace rock music and Girl Guides transform into action figures.
Ultimately the continuance of organisations like the RSA depends not on branding but on a genuine need for their services. Painful though it may be to some, the RSA may disappear, or its name continue as a meaningless acronym on a chain of neighbourhood eateries. Like the Temperance Unions of the early 20th century it may eventually fall victim not to progress but simply to evolution.
1st November 2008
Hidden among the colossal news stories of the week is a snippet about the closure of the Lower Hutt RSA. Falling membership and financial strain have brought the club to its knees and, short of a miracle, it will fold. Gone. Kaput. The report says many other RSA clubs face a similar end.
At the Lower Hutt RSA the failure to attract new members is blamed on misunderstanding about the organisation. “People think we’re a bunch of old soldiers sitting around talking about the war, but I haven’t heard a war story in here for weeks,” said one member. But there can be no misunderstanding. Few organisations are more aptly named: the RSA is the Returned Services Association – a bunch of old soldiers. Perhaps the war stories have dwindled but its rationale remains the support of servicemen and women who have returned. Returned from what? From the battlefield; from what used to be called the ‘theatre of war.’
In which case the disappearance of RSA clubs should be something to celebrate, signifying as it does that we no longer participate in the large-scale acts of carnage that blighted or destroyed the lives of our young men and women in the past.
Did the founders of the RSA intend it to last forever? Were they so cynical? There is no doubt that the RSA is an icon of the ‘rugby, racing and beer’ generations, of weathered faces in smoke-filled rooms, of stern camaraderie and sober countenance. Some RSA clubs strive to break free of those images, to re-invent themselves for a new generation.
Lower Hutt’s neighbouring club, Porirua, recently ditched the military service requirement for members, throwing its doors open to the public. This has not gone down well with the old soldiers of Porirua and you have to wonder what the point is of having a Returned Servicemans’ Association open to everybody.
The Porirua plan appears to be the response of an organisation that has lost sight of itself. The economic imperatives driving the decision are the consequences of overly ambitious expansion. RSA clubrooms used to be just that; a room where members met, socialised and arranged small acts of charity. Over time many clubs expanded to include restaurants, bars and gaming parlours. They borrowed money to build bigger premises and it is the financial burden of these that now undermines the viability of the organisation as much as dwindling membership.
The Porirua RSA and others like it want to increase membership mainly to sustain their restaurants and bars, in which case they become no different than a hotel or working men’s club. Do the new members of the Porirua RSA participate in the other traditional roles of the club? Are they encouraged to march on ANZAC Day? Are they entitled to the benefits received by returned servicemen and women? Do they uphold the values of the club? Or is it just another watering hole?
This is one of those tiny stories that are compelling because they reveal a much bigger picture.
As a nation we are at a point of growth where, lizard-like, we are shaking off an old skin. Many of the structures that have served us well in the past will not be needed in the future. The RSA is just one of many organisations that struggle at this time. Churches, service clubs and voluntary groups all confront their relevance in the new society. Many respond by rebranding themselves: the WDFF becomes Rural Women, churches embrace rock music and Girl Guides transform into action figures.
Ultimately the continuance of organisations like the RSA depends not on branding but on a genuine need for their services. Painful though it may be to some, the RSA may disappear, or its name continue as a meaningless acronym on a chain of neighbourhood eateries. Like the Temperance Unions of the early 20th century it may eventually fall victim not to progress but simply to evolution.
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