The real weight of Olympic gold

The Olympics were no doubt emotional for weightlifter Lin Qingfeng’s parents, as they had not seen their son during his six and a half years of training. His laborer father and cleaner mother recognized him on TV only when he was introduced while mounting the podium to receive his gold medal.

The sporting jamboree will have been even tougher on the parents of diver Wu Minxia. Her father, who works as a plumber and is the sole breadwinner of family, decided to withhold news of the deaths of both her maternal grandparents and of her mother’s struggle against breast cancer until after she won her gold medal.

Now in the national jubilations over another Olympic gold bonanza, each champion stands to earn a handsome amount of prize money, endorsements and, possibly gifts like an apartment or a house.

As the Olympics are precious opportunities for upward social mobility for athletes, their parents have done whatever it took to ensure their children got the chance to make the most of the opportunity.

But I believe the Olympic stars owe a debt of gratitude to their fellow countrymen more than anybody else, including their parents. This is because for decades Chinese people have been financing the juguo or whole-nation sports program that trains talented athletes to win as many medals as possible at the Olympic Games.

Without the juguo system, many Chinese gold medalists, who have parents with high school or lower education, would not have achieved their greatness and their families might still be struggling in the lower strata of society.

Despite the Olympic ideal of not to have conquered but to have fought well, nowadays the Games are not really for amateurs. The competitions have become so sophisticated and costly that they are beyond ordinary people’s reach.

The total costs of the juguo program can only be imagined, if you count in all State-run sports courses across the country, which provide free training to hundreds of thousands of children and teenagers each year.

At the top level, the costs of grooming the new Olympic swimming star, Sun Yang, reportedly neared 10 million yuan ($1.57 million) over the past two years, as he cut his teeth in the pools at home and abroad, surrounded by a team of world-class coaches and assistants.

Such a system always courts controversy. The most frequent complaints target a grueling training regimen that deprives athletes of a social life and learning opportunities, and a concentration of public resources that benefits only the elite.

But the Western alternative that lines up Olympic athletes picked from high schools, colleges and clubs, with financial support form their families and commercial endorsements, also generates its share of resentment.

More than half of the British medal winners in Beijing went to private schools. In London, the number of British athletes with private-school connections cast a shadow on the government’s yearslong initiatives to encourage stateschool students to join elite sports.

And the Olympic dreams of their children can leave middle-class families in the United States penniless. The mother of gymnast Gabby Douglas has filed for bankruptcy, and swimming star Ryan Lochte’s parents are facing foreclosure of their home. There could be many others mired in Olympics-induced financial woes, because most athletes live in obscurity.

The juguo system is in all likelihood here to stay, albeit with some changes, such as greater private participation and a more humane face to the management. So Chinese Olympic stars, don’t forget to thank taxpayers first, when you succeed. The writer is editor-at-large of China Daily. E-mail: dr.baiping@gmail.com