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.

Olympic fatigue strikes early and hard


I think I’ve peaked too early in my buildup to the Beijing Olympics. Two weeks from the opening and I’m exhausted.

The problem is I don’t know what to make of the Olympics any more. The original concept of a sports event has, like the guy at the bottom of the ruck, been obliterated beneath layers of marketing, drugs, jingoism and politics. Complicating this is the media’s obsession to cast these Olympics as China’s coming-of-age; an initiation ceremony that will somehow determine that country’s status in the global community.

But, true to the Olympic spirit, I am determined to be fortius, altius and speedius – to rise above myself and participate fully in the event.

I do this largely from guilt. Over the past several Olympics I have not pulled my weight. I’ve become increasingly detached from the pride, the hoop-la and the sheer stamina required to be a member of the 4 million-strong support crew to our athletes.

Instead of doing the hard yards I’ve soft-pedalled, tuning in only for the victorious soundbite or videoclip – “coming up to the line and it’s gold for New Zealand!” – and shunning the near-misses, the failures and the steady plodders. The only thing I recall from Athens are the final three minutes of whatshisname and theotherguy winning gold and silver in the triathlon.

I am sorry for this and I will try to redeem myself in the next few weeks. It won’t be easy – as an Olympic fan my match fitness peaked in 1972 (the men’s rowing eight) and 1976 (John Walker). Over the decades the malaise has spread to my interest in all sports. I no longer follow cricket, tennis, motor racing, the horses or even rugby. I’m not so much out of shape as off the planet.

Looking back, my single greatest error as a sports fan was my failure to make the shift from free-to-air television. Over a period of about a decade I shunned the enticements of subscriber TV and satisfied myself with the dwindling offerings on the traditional channels. Eventually my diet was reduced to crumbs and I turned off completely.

A couple of years ago I realised that, quite unintentionally, I had stopped watching television altogether. Like old friends we had sort of drifted apart and it became too much of an effort to get back together. My television sits in the corner of the lounge draped with a colourful scarf. It is now so out of date it ranks as ‘legacy’ equipment because it needs a special adaptor to connect a DVD player.

My relationships with other media follow a similar, though perhaps less final, trend. I do a bit of newspaper browsing and occasionally ping the sports headlines on National Radio. I use the internet constantly in my work but almost never for recreation or news.

On the rare occasions when I confront sporting events in the media, especially radio and television, it all seems too clamorous. The grace, the finesse, the dignity of the athlete vanish beneath self-indulgent broadcasting, mind-numbing advertisements and truly blithering commentaries.

You can see what I’m up against if I want to pull my weight as an Olympic supporter.

But I’m making a start. To regain the TV habit I’ve rented a few videos of ploughing competitions from the library. I can manage about 8 minutes of this - more with carbohydrate loading. This weekend I’m stepping up to a highlights package from the 1986 Ashes and I plan to spend a bit of time with my ear to the neighbour’s front door during the rugby test.

I figure some high altitude training will do me good so I’ve booked a couple of evenings watching Sky at a friend’s bach at Castle Hill.

With my limited build-up I will inevitably resort to doping like everybody else. My preferred option would be a live-feed internet implant. That should reduce my broad band and give me a passing chance of surviving the opening ceremony. I’ll see you there.