No Champs for me this year
I WON’T be at Champs this year. And no, it’s not just because I can’t get one of those coveted tickets. Neither is it because I’m no longer a fan of track and field, nor because I’m still mourning Usain Bolt’s retirement. Although, if he’s reading this, I’m officially begging track and field’s one true king, to come back for one last dance. Jordan did it. Muhammad Ali did it. Heck, even Mike Tyson is coming out of retirement for a second time to fight later this year.
The real reason you won’t see me at stadium this year is that I’ve fallen completely out of love with the event. I attended my first Champs aeons ago when it was still sponsored by Milo and we ran in those plasticky flour bag shorts and sling merinos. Back then, when you ran for your school, you really and truly ran for your school and as a supporter, win, lose or draw, you always felt as if you were a part of the exploits on the track.
CHAMPS ‘91
Then there was that immortal Champs ‘91 when JC and Calabar went to the wire with half a point separating them. The exploits of that season live in infamy. The tearful walk back to JC after we were told we had lost. The suspense and disbelief Monday morning when rumours spread that we had won. The joy and jubilation when it was confirmed, the ecstasy and exuberance as we marched from Liguanea to Red Hills Road, and the agony when the Calabar boys greeted us with rock stones at their gates. Ahh, good times.
High school rivalries aside, what I loved the most about Champs then, was the pride and joy of wearing your school colours to do battle against the tribes of Rabalac and the boys of North Street. Today I’m not so sure what to call it. Yes, the rivalry is still there, as is the spectacle and sheer joy that our young people could put on such a magical show. But I can’t shake the feeling that Champs has got so commercial, so big, so win-at-all-cost, that we have lost something along the way.
Don’t get me wrong. A schoolboy running under 10 seconds is phenomenal stuff regardless of the era. But beneath the roar of the crowds and the dazzling athleticism lies a question that grows louder with each passing year: Has the pursuit of glory on the track begun to outpace the invaluable life lessons sports are meant to teach?
NONSENSE AND MORE NONSENSE
Take, for instance, this nonsense about importing African long-distance runners to help find 15 extra points to win champs. In the old days, coaches would walk the length and breadth of their school campus and classrooms, searching for some hidden gem to unearth. My old classmate O’Neil Smythe comes to mind. Smythe had lived an unremarkable life as a student at JC until Michael Clark spotted his hulking frame hunched over a game of money football by the Geography block stairway one afternoon. ‘Clarkie’ ordered Smythe to training the next day and several records and accolades later, the youngster had written himself into JC’s shot put and discus history. How many Oneil Smythe’s are we overlooking by rushing to the Motherland or the rest of the Caribbean to find talent? And no, I don’t for one minute buy this dim-witted argument that this matter is an international incident and if we don’t accept foreign students, then US colleges will soon start to refuse our athletes. As a matter of fact, I shouldn’t even have dignified that nonsense by putting it in this respectable newspaper. My apologies, dear reader.
The point is that yes, Champs is big business. But like so many things in life, when we put money, ego and self-interest above all else, we often lose our way – badly.
High school sports is an unwitting teacher, imparting wisdom and life lessons without uttering a word. It taught me that in the relentless pursuit of the finish line, true victory lay in the camaraderie, the friendships, the training, the resilience, and the indomitable spirit you develop. Those lessons never leave you. In fact, in my experience, I can often tell which adults have never played a sport in their lives as they often display none of those esteemed qualities.
WIN AT ALL COSTS
But times have changed and the ethos of ‘winning at all cost’ has embedded itself deep into the very fibres of our high school sports fabric, subtly shifting the narrative from character-building to trophy hunting. Where we once emphasised teamwork and personal growth, there now stands an arena where the gleam of medals and the allure of athletic scholarships drown out the cheers of pure, unadulterated sportsmanship. Recruitment for high school track and field has morphed into a high-stakes game, with cars, jobs and now plane tickets from Ghana being the currency of choice.
In many changing rooms and track houses, the whispers in the corridors speak not of the joy in the hearts of our athletes at wearing the purple, blue or green, but of the weight of expectations on their shoulders. The strain is palpable as our young athletes, with dreams glistening in their eyes like sweat upon their brows, are pushed to their limits and beyond, often sacrificing their tomorrow for short-term glory today. Training regimes become more rigorous, bookwork becomes an optional distraction and the pressure to perform becomes more and more crushing as the innocent laughter of youth is drowned out by the cacophony of a crowd baying for victory at any price.
And what of the ones who don’t stand atop the podium? The ones whose best sprint isn’t fast enough, whose highest jump falls just short? What lessons do we impart to them when all eyes are trained on the champions, and second place is the first to be forgotten? The harsh truth is that by glorifying only the victors, we inadvertently teach our youngsters that self-worth is measured in seconds and centimetres, in records broken and accolades won. Not in the measure of how you play the game or train for it.
And that’s why I won’t be at the stadium this week. In our zeal to win Champs and to etch our names into the annals of track and field history, we risk leaving behind the very essence of sports. Are we, in our eagerness to lift that trophy, neglecting the crucial life lessons of sportsmanship, empathy, teamwork, resilience, and the value of effort? Have we forgotten that the track is not just a proving ground for athletes but a classroom for all students of life, even the ones who can’t run, jump, or throw?
At some point, someone must stop and ask, “Are we nurturing athletes at the expense of nurturing people?” Sadly, I think we all know the answer.
Major Basil Jarrett is a communications strategist and CEO of Artemis Consulting, a communications consulting firm specialising in crisis communications and reputation management. Follow him on Twitter, Instagram, Threads @ IamBasilJarrett and linkedin.com/in/basiljarrett. Send feedback to columns@gleanerjm.com