Competition time again...
[Sorry, this turned into quite a long post and there may be some swearing and horse nudity]
I've recently returned from this year's major international competition for our sport, this time it was in Kent and I was away for 7 days. The athlete and coaches' accommodation (and therefore mine too) was here. Yes, Mummy and Daddy do spend £25k p.a. to send their little princesses here (and yes, they really are princesses) but the rooms are dorms and youth hostel-like and some of the doors have no locks for fire safety reasons. I bet some of the girls are really rather shocked at the Spartan-ness when they arrive, but once their own duvet covers and posters are in place the rooms look much more homely.
The staff absolutely fell over themselves to make us feel welcome and help the athletes (even to the extent of providing packets of frozen peas when an athlete with a busted shoulder couldn't find any cold gel packs to ease it!). The food was wonderful and was provided in healthy athlete-sized portions - and we're not talking carrot sticks here. Athletes like their food piled high on the plate and after a 3 course meal would wander over to the pannini maker and construct a toasted sandwich on which the poor little machine could barely close. This explains why so many coaches and ex-athletes struggle with their weight once they give up serious competition - and believe me, the sight of some of those huge Eastern European coaches squeezed into a singlet and skimpy shorts first thing in a morning is definitely enough to put you off your breakfast.
This year's competition was a much more relaxed affair than last year, mainly because the venue also went out of their way to do as much for us as possible. This was their first major competition and they really pulled out all the stops on providing staff, funding and printing all the programmes and publicity, finding hundreds of young volunteers at both the venue and the accommodation. I never made it to the venue (oh dear, what a pity, never mind) so the poison dwarf from last year was kept well away from me. And the beauty of going on the train, rather than driving, is that someone always has to come and get you if they need you and by the time they've thought about the time involved in doing that, they've changed their mind and found someone else!
We had a couple of blips before the competition though. One country sent a team over and didn't pay (accommodation and transport costs for one county can come to over £6k, depending on how many athletes and coaches they send and how long they stay). So they were given a deadline to pay by and when the money wasn't transferred they were barred from the competition. The poor athletes were heartbroken, understandable as they'd travelled half way round the world to be there. We then found out that the country's federation was almost bankrupt and had no intention of paying, but we did manage to get the money out of them to cover the 3 nights that the team stayed with us. Another country sent an athlete that they knew wasn't entered into the competition. He came over at his own expense too. We couldn't add him at that late stage but we gave him free board and lodgings for the duration - his federation may have been a bunch of c**ts to do that to him, but we aren't.
It was surprising how many countries said before the event that they couldn't afford to take part. Many athletes pay their own way and you'd be amazed at how many athletes from 'rich' 'first world' nations don't get sponsorship or government funding. OK, given the nature of our sport, they're either sponsored by the military or they have rich parents - for example, one Olympic athlete from an English-speaking first world nation is funded mainly by his parents; to the tune of $30k a year. Perhaps our UK athletes aren't so badly off after all (but then we do bring home Olympic medals).
I found the team from a large Asian nation which hosted the last Olympics smoking in their room: athletes, healthy bunch aren't they!?! Needless to say the fire drill was an unmitigated disaster - after standing outside for 20 mins we could still see athletes in their rooms. The one the next day was better, mainly because we put 'sweepers' on each floor to check the bedrooms and we'd threatened the athletes that we'd do a drill every morning and evening until they got it right!
Because of the hundreds of volunteers and the forward planning we'd done back at the office before we got down to Kent, those of us at the accommodation had a quiet couple of days once the finals started. I got chance to have lunch in the garden a couple of times overlooking the mausoleum and the local golf club. One day I was watching a chap in an invalid carriage trundle across the green when he was suddenly overtaken by his friend's motorised remote controlled bag of golf clubs - a very surreal sight! The grounds are vast and from my lunch-time vantage point I could see various bits of wildlife. Luckily the rabbits had gone by the time the fox arrived. He'd disappear into a daffodil clump and then suddenly his head would pop up to get his bearings and then he'd be off again.
The job also has its surreal side. I was following a couple of cleaners as we walked down a path by one of the accommodation blocks I'd used to house the boys. It was a warm day and, as we turned the corner, the grass on both sides of the path was lined with male athletes in their knickers shaving off their body hair. It doesn't do to take too much notice but, unfortunately, the bodies on show were of the white spindly type rather than bronzed gods, and the undies were more well-washed Aldi than Calvin Kleins. The funny thing was that the cleaners just went ambling on, chatting away as if it was the most natural thing in the world to find the path lined by half-naked men.
My colleague and I got an afternoon off and decided to spend it in Rochester. We started off in the cathedral and it all went down hill from there really when we nearly got thrown out for giggling. If you want to find out why this unicorn is grinning so much, check out the photos here - cos it may be OK to stick this sort of thing up on the wall of a cathedral, but I sure as hell would be reported if I stuck a picture of it up here! How do they get away with it? The crest must be about 5' x 7' and I don't know much about horse anatomy, but those definitely WEREN'T modelled on a horse. The lion on the crest is similar but partly hidden by the way it's standing. I know the term 'lion rampant' is part of heraldry, but I didn't know that's what was meant. Anyway, if you're ever in Rochester, the sculpture in question is on the South Transept aisle above the doorway, basically 'X' marks the spot on this plan.
We then went to the castle which gives a good view of the Russian Black Widow submarine that was brought over as a tourist attraction. We followed that with a cream tea and a look round the shops.
Last year's competition, although it was successful and gained us an international award for the best hosted event, did garner some flack; and the source of much of that criticism did make it very hard to deal with, especially for our boss. So much so that the mental and motivational fall-out went on until well after Christmas. But this competition was going so much better and it was great to see everyone enjoying it and the boss getting some positive feedback. You can feel the 'but then...' coming, can't you? Only read on if you've not had your dinner yet, or don't want to eat for a while...
The next day some of the teams were leaving and we had to be around to see them off. It was apparent that one team (from a former Soviet republic) had found the local pub and very dodgy nightclub, as we'd had reports of athletes getting in at around 3 a.m., damaging an art deco table, peeing on a car and spreading food up the stairs. It was a bit worrying as the house was open for tours and the grounds were open for the National Gardens Scheme, so the cleaners had to do some quick work. One of the Scandinavian coaches said as he came down for breakfast past various food items on the landing, "I see some nations have just discovered the potato!". We were also concerned as it was the farewell party that night and we decided to have some volunteers 'patrolling' just to keep an eye on things.
We were hoping it was an isolated incident, but then, as I was going out at lunchtime (12.30) to see some people off, I saw 4 athletes carrying a colleague feet first up the stairs to much giggling. The caretaker thought it was just youthful high spirits, but me and the Estate Manager thought they were drunk and I mentioned this to my colleague. She decided to take a look whilst I was checking athletes onto the airport bus. Halfway up the stairs she encountered 3 lads in shades, clearly drunk and thinking they were untouchable, who pushed past her, followed by their female team mate. My colleague stopped the girl and asked was everything OK, to which the embarrassed girl said that yes, everything was fine. My colleague pushed a bit further and asked was her team-mate drunk? The girl repeated that it was fine and everything was under control, to which my colleague replied that we would have to go and check and the girl ran off. So, we now had house and grounds crawling with the blue-rinse brigade and 3 pissed arrogant male athletes somewhere in the grounds and possibly still drinking. This did not make us feel happy, but luckily (as we found out an hour or so later) they'd actually gone straight back to the venue to watch the competition.
Anyway, once I'd seen the airport bus off, we both went upstairs to investigate. A few minutes of thumping on locked doors brought no response so we got the caretaker to unlock them and found an unconscious male athlete covered in vomit (this isn't the bad bit - that comes later). The room was an absolute state: as well as the vomit, one bed looked like it had been peed on; there was food everywhere trampled into the carpet; there were 6 empty litres of spirits (vodka and scotch) and we later found 3 more full litre bottles, plus cans of larger, as well as about another 2 litres in the girl's room; various things were damaged, including the ceiling; they'd broken the locks on the windows and had got out onto the roof; there was kit they'd stolen from another team as well as items stolen from the school and us, etc, etc, etc.
My colleague has first aid and experience doing stewarding/security work, so has dealt with similar incidents and I left it to her to decide whether he needed medical help. After shaking him about a bit and getting no response she decided to call an ambulance whilst I went to 'phone our boss and get him back from the venue. By the time I'd got back into the room the athlete had thrown up on my colleague too (this still isn't the bad bit). Anyway, the ambulance arrived and the crew started to try to check vital signs etc, at which our athlete friend started to show that maybe he wasn't out completely cold. He started flailing around and being very uncooperative - although his co-ordination was so bad that he managed to hit himself about three times whilst trying to hit out at other people! The ambulance men decided to call for police back-up because we were on the attic level, up some very small winding staircases and they didn't think they could get him out if he was going to get violent.
At this point he started trying to open his trousers: a sure sign that he wasn't as pissed as he'd originally led us to believe because, as the ambulance men pointed out, real drunks don't bother with such niceties. That was the point at which I exited the room and left the ambulance crew to it, 'cos I thought that with his co-ordination, if he decided to pee, it was going to go off like a comedy hose-pipe and one of us covered in his body fluids was already enough!
Unfortunately, he didn't pee... He crapped all over the room instead.
At this point our boss arrived. He was, how should I put this? Shocked? Appalled? Sickened? Luckily, he had his camera with him so we started to keep a very detailed photographic record of the events, the state of the room, the damage, the stolen items in situ, etc. Boss called the venue and demanded that the head coach be brought back along with any team members that could be located. The police also arrived and came very close to arresting the athlete for criminal damage.
When the coach arrived (a very nice, gentle, man with absolutely no control over his athletes) he was as horrified as our boss and actually slapped the lad: we had to stifle our desire to applaud! Eventually they managed to get him into the ambulance and off to hospital with his coach - but only after 2 ambulance crews and 2 police cars had attended. What a complete waste of trained professionals, who could have been out helping people who deserved it, rather than some pissed arrogant idiot who thought he could act how he liked because he was 'special'.
Then the rest of the team appeared: still with shades on, still arrogant and suddenly not able to speak the English that they'd been happily speaking all week. The boss tried to get out of them what had happened but they clammed up, so we decided to take them up to the room. What they saw - and smelled - brought about a miraculous change in their behaviour and I wasn't sure if some of them were going to pass out or throw up, fortunately they did neither. We got them to clear everything out of their rooms and pack. They were at least honest about what was theirs and what was stolen and tried to repair some of the damage.
By then the boss had had enough and he put them on the next airport bus (this was at 5pm and their flight was only at 6.30 the next morning!). But just as the bus was about to go their team-mate and coach turned up from the hospital. He threw up on the bus as soon as he got on it and we were all amazed that the bus driver agreed to take him. The girl turned up later and was put straight into a taxi for the airport.
Lets be completely clear: we're not talking about young athletes on the sporting equivalent of their first school trip to France. These are experienced career athletes, with the man in question having competed at the last Olympics. As the most senior athlete in the squad, who has a wife and child back home, he should have been setting an example to his team-mates, rather than using both ends of his body to spread the contents of this digestive system around one of England's premier private schools.
I'm getting slightly more sociopathic as I get older and I can quite honestly say that I'm not sure I would have stopped him climbing out of the window. To be honest I'm not sure that I could - he was a big lad - but both my colleague and my first reaction was that our boss was having such a good competition, everything was so positive after him having a frankly crap year, and then this pissed tw*t goes and does this. We could have killed him. He was really lucky that the only serious slap he got was from his coach.
We also just keep thinking what could have happened:
- It was pure chance that I happened to see them carrying him up the stairs; what if I'd been called off to do something and by then had forgotten to mention it or follow it up?
- What if we'd not seen the rest of the team coming down without him?
- What if we'd not been nosey and just thought, 'Sod it, it's not our problem'.
- His team-mates locked him into an attic room and left the window open. They'd already broken the bars that were there to stop people climbing out of the window and onto the roof. There was a really tiny parapet - barely a foot high - before a plunge of 3 floors onto the courtyard below. If he'd come-to we'd have been lucky if all he'd decided to do was to rip the door off its hinges. The more probable assumption is that he'd have gone out of the window and pretty rapidly become pavement pizza in front of horrified blue-rinsed on-lookers.
- They'd not left him any water. The only liquid in the room was more alcohol - would he have drunk it and got worse?
- The fact that they left him in that state. Although he did start to come-to after about an hour, when we arrived he couldn't turn himself over, and when he did start to wobble about trying to kneel up we had to keep stopping him hitting his head on the furniture.
Although the situation was bad, it could have been so much worse.
The room had to be professionally cleaned and even then, two days later, the carpet had to be replaced.
Anyway, we submitted a full report with photos to his federation and, to our surprise they have banned him from international competitions for a year, disciplined the entire team and coaches, and insisted that he pay the repair and cleaning costs himself (and we've received the money). We then found out that something had happened involving the same athlete at a competition the month before. So we're wondering whether he was on his final warning, or whether they were just waiting for a complaint accompanied by concrete evidence.
Don't ever let anyone tell you that sport is glamorous!
Labels: athletes, competitions, idiots, sport, work
He looked far happier on subsequent runs and the Chron got some cracking shots - click here and search on 'chris evans'. Our photos are in the album over on the right. After the two stars had done their training runs and then their 2 final 'competition' runs, the crew were allowed to have one run each (not in lycra, but they did have crash helmets!). All of them were very quick and one of the lads was really good - there were a couple of half-jokes from us to him about whether he'd like to come to a talent id day. The auditor left early, shaking hands, waving and doing the thumbs up to Mr Evans as if he was his new best friend. Well, I suppose accountants don't get out much.
