Please Excuse Me While I Vent.
I said I was only going to write when I had something to say and I’ve been building up to this one for a while. It’s been rumbling on in the back of my mind since before I retired, and just grows more vocal with every new story on this theme - the Osaka story yesterday (or, more accurately, the response to it) was a bit of a tipping point.
Because I am sick fed up of seeing athletes treated like sh*t by the people who make money off our backs. And while I’m sure nobody cares what some has-been rifle shooter (who wasn’t even that good to begin with) has to say, I need to say this for me. If I don’t, the anger and frustration will just continue to build up inside me and fester. And honestly? I don’t need that kind of negativity in my life.
Fair warning though… this might be the first of many posts on this topic…
If you haven’t seen the news about Naomi Osaka, Cliff’s Notes: she refused to participate in press conferences during the French Open in order to protect her mental health, was fined by the organisers for doing so, threatened with expulsion and has subsequently pulled out so as not to distract from event itself…
If you were to apply this situation to a normal workplace, the competition organisers and/or international federations would have a legal responsibility to make reasonable adjustments to Osaka’s working environment in order to protect her mental health. At the heart of it, there is an aspect of her job (playing tennis) that impacts negatively on her mental health (doing press conferences) and an employer would have to make allowances for that. And yes, the model of professional sport is not one of employer/employee - conveniently relieving both organisers and federations of those legal responsibilities to the athletes they profit from - but there is still a moral responsibility that is being neglected here. Organisers and federations have a duty of care to their athletes. Publicly criticising and fining an athlete for wanting to protect her mental health, then threatening her with expulsion from the competition and generally treating her so poorly she subsequently elects to withdraw, is so far removed from supporting her wellbeing that I have to question if the organisers actually understand the meaning of the word.
I also think there’s another aspect - and stakeholder - in this story that should not be overlooked, and that is the press itself. Now, I actually think that journalism is a pretty laudable career. Anything that is vital to the functioning of democracy is something that should be celebrated, and a free press is just that. The majority of journalists I have met and worked with are good, kind people who are genuinely excited to celebrate your successes with you and equally compassionate enough to commiserate your losses - and I believe that experience is probably fairly representative of the industry as a whole.
But, as the saying goes, with great power comes great responsibility and, like any industry, there are aspects of the media which are significantly less pleasant. One only needs to read some of the headlines about Osaka to see how ugly it can turn. I actually hesitate to call him a journalist, but seeing Piers Morgan describe Osaka as a ‘petulant madam’, while not surprising - he does have form when it comes to abusing women of colour about their mental health - made me want to start throwing things. God knows how it made Osaka feel, assuming she even read it. And when there is potential for things to get that vicious, that vile, just because she politely declined to speak to them, is it any wonder athletes don’t want to subject themselves to those situations?
My personal opinion? Immediate post-competition press is a cruel practice. I’ve only experienced it through the mixed zones at the Olympics and Commonwealth Games - essentially a one way system in place for exiting the field of play which involves running the gauntlet of press from all over the world - and it has, for the most part, been an uneventful experience. But after I bombed in the Women’s Prone at the Commonwealth Games in Gold Coast 2018, I walked through the mixed zone while having a panic attack. I have never been so grateful to compete in such a low-profile sport as I was in that moment. There was no press, no cameras, no one watching as I staggered through, gasping for air. I shudder to think how that whole situation would have played out if I’d been in another sport, or a more high-profile athlete. Can you imagine the coverage if it had been Jess Ennis-Hill? Becky Adlington? Chris Hoy? More to the point, can you imagine how you’d feel to have a moment of vulnerability like that plastered all over the front pages of the red-tops the next day?
And you don’t get a choice in the matter. Sure, you don’t actually have to speak to anyone, but you still have to walk through the mixed zone - it even gets priority over doping control. There’s no time, no space, nowhere you can go to compose yourself before facing the world’s media. The press-conference model at least offers some protection in that regard, but athletes are still liable to be bombarded with questions demanding to know why they played badly. As if they’re not already torturing themselves over every tiny mistake. As if they won’t keep going over it again and again for days, weeks, months - maybe even years - to come. And for what? To satisfy some morbid curiosity or try to provoke some headline-grabbing reaction?
I get that press and media is a business, and ultimately reporting on sport is about making money, but this practice of putting athletes on the spot immediately after competing, at times kicking them when they’re down, is - quite frankly - inhumane. And yes, as I’ve said, I know these instances are in the minority. But they are damaging enough that I’m amazed it’s taken this long for someone to say no.
Ultimately it comes down to this: athletes are the key players in performance sport. Without them, you have nothing. There’s no competition to organise, nothing to govern, nothing to report on. And while organisers, federations and the press are all stakeholders whose voices need to be heard, none of their needs rank higher in priority than athlete welfare. It’s not a pick-and-choose kind of thing. How often do we see organisations pay lip-service to it then cast it aside as soon as it’s inconvenient? The IOC are certainly doing that with regard to their COVID protocols and athlete waivers… but that’s a different post. Athlete welfare has to be at the heart of every decision that’s made, and part of that welfare is making sure athlete voices are heard. Always. Every time they speak, organisations have to listen. I’m not saying athletes have to get their way every time, and often compromises need to be reached, but they still have to be heard. Otherwise they are made to feel undervalued, overlooked and powerless - all of which can lead directly to mental health problems, and exacerbate existing ones.
I’ve kept quiet about this for a long time, but I am speaking from experience here. A decision was made by my governing body that negatively impacted on me, and when I voiced my concerns I was ignored. My worries, my fears, my feelings were not heard. I felt helpless and powerless, and ultimately being put in that position broke me. I’m still suffering the after affects of that decision - or rather, how that decision was handled and how I was made to feel - to this day, and it happened over four years ago now.
The performance sport environment is a pressure cooker and some of the things athletes put themselves through amount to self-harm. Some of those athletes are well compensated for their efforts, which can make it hard to feel any sympathy for them. But not even the over-inflated salaries of some footballers can make up for the abuse they receive, and nobody should be made to suffer for their sport.
The thing that makes me really mad is not just that Naomi Osaka wasn’t heard. She was punished and belittled and demeaned, and it makes me sick. The world is a horrible place right now and you have to question how elite sport fits into making it right. But one of the enduring appeals of sport is its potential to unite and inspire people - and I think we could all do with a little of that right now. Unfortunately that’s not going to happen if organisers, federations and the less savoury elements of the media insist on treating athletes like they’ve treated Naomi Osaka…