Withering examination of elite sport a rarity
Athlete rights groups have been waiting for an opportunity to air their concerns about New Zealand’s high-performance sport environments in a forum outside of the sporting system. This week, they finally got their chance, at a hearing before the Employmen
In the world of highperformance sport, disputes more often than not play out behind closed doors. National sporting bodies tend to favour confidential mediation to resolve conflicts – sometimes resulting in secret payouts, while the Sport NZ-funded complaints service binds its participants to confidentiality.
Even Sports Tribunal hearings, where anything from selection disputes to anti-doping violations are litigated, is a closed-door forum. When written decisions are released to the public, they are scrubbed of any colour or superfluous detail, with the dispute summarised in a few terse paragraphs.
So when, just minutes into giving evidence before the Employment Relations Authority, Olympic rowing great Mahe Drysdale unleashed a withering examination of New Zealand’s high-performance sports system, it felt like something revolutionary was occurring.
‘‘Right now, it’s very much [High Performance Sport NZ] dictating and directing. When feedback is provided, there’s no obligation for them to listen . . . we want to engage with them in a process that has some teeth behind it,’’ Drysdale told authority member Rowan Anderson.
‘‘Unless there is obligation and teeth involved in those discussions, our 20-odd years of experience tells us [HPSNZ] will listen and hear us, but ultimately nothing will change.’’
Drysdale is the frontman for a landmark employment case against HPSNZ brought by The Athletes’ Cooperative – a newly formed union of 60 elite rowers and cyclists, who are seeking to negotiate a collective employment agreement with the government funding agency.
HPSNZ contends it cannot enter into collective bargaining as it does not directly contract athletes, and to do so would interfere with the sovereign rights of the national sporting organisations to govern its own participants.
The double Olympic champion told the authority he has retired from top-level sport, but is spearheading the case because there remains a fear among some of the group’s membership of the consequences of speaking out.
‘‘Right now, I’ve got nothing to lose. I’m out of the sport.’’
The substance of Drysdale’s comments is nothing new. The same sentiments have been expressed in a string of reviews into troubled elite sporting environments over the past six years.
Those reviews have all been carried out under the confines of carefully constructed terms of reference set by either Sport NZ or the national sporting bodies whose programmes had been brought under the microscope.
It’s why athlete representative groups have been waiting some time for an opportunity to air their concerns in a forum outside of the sporting system.
The first big public showdown between The Athletes v The Government was all very polite.
In his opening spiel, Andrew Scott-Howman, the Wellingtonbased employment lawyer representing The Athletes’ Cooperative, said he was relaxed about what order the hearing would proceed in. On the other side of the table, Kylie Dunn, acting for High Performance Sport NZ, was also very relaxed.
Both indicated they were unlikely to have any questions for the other party, limiting the chance of any verbal jousting.
The only tense moment came at the end of evidence given by HPSNZ director of high performance Steve Tew, when Drysdale seized the opportunity to challenge Tew’s description of the process around setting up another athlete representative group, this one spearheaded by the government agency.
Tew told the authority the newly-created Athlete Leaders Network, funded by HPSNZ but ‘‘organisationally separate’’, was the result of widespread consultation with athletes. Tew added of the 60-odd national sporting organisations in New Zealand, around 40 of them had signed up to be part of the Athlete Leaders Network, with each sport nominating two representatives to serve on the group.
Drysdale baulked.
‘‘You said there was athlete engagement in setting the Athlete Leaders Network up . . . it is my understanding that the members of the ALN were not elected by their sports, rather shoulder-tapped by the NZOC,’’ he later questioned.
‘‘I don’t know if shouldertapping is quite the right word,’’ Tew said.
‘‘They were shoulder-tapped,’’ Drysdale responded.
The government agency did not seek to challenge any of the evidence from Drysdale, or the submissions of 22 other athletes, who outlined their experiences in top-level sport.
That’s because, as Dunn said in her closing submission, the case essentially boils down to a ‘‘very narrow legal issue’’.
‘‘What this is about is whether HPSNZ can be forced to bargain with a group of people it doesn’t employ,’’ Dunn said in her closing submission.
‘‘[The Athletes Cooperative] say they want to be employees, they either need HPSNZ to agree that they are employees, or a determination by the authority that they are recognised as employees under section 6 of the act.’’
Dunn then questioned what legal precedent a declaration would set, suggesting any union could bring a claim against HPSNZ.
A lawyer representing Cycling NZ and Rowing NZ was also present as an interested party – the implications for the national sporting bodies are another key issue in this case.
In his closing submission, Scott-Howman, who was still very relaxed, said the athletes’ current status under HPSNZ’s funding model does not prohibit them from forming a trade union, and seeking to establish an employment relationship for the future.
‘‘We don’t regard HPSNZ as the enemy, we acknowledge they have done significant work in this area [of athlete welfare].
‘‘We want to work with them, it is just the forum we want to work in is the difference.’’
‘‘Unless there is obligation and teeth involved in those discussions, our 20-odd years of experience tells us [High Performance Sport NZ] will listen and hear us, but ultimately nothing will change.’’
Mahe Drysdale