IAAF needs to cast(er) its net wider
Durban POISON
IMAGINE a brain surgeon so good at what he does that people would rather die than take their brains elsewhere to be repaired. Imagine he was in such demand that all the other brain surgeons were forced to pack up their drills and hacksaws and welding torches and become estate agents and drug fiends.
It simply wouldn’t be fair on the competition, would it? The surgeon who was putting them out of business with his massively superior skills would have to be curtailed.
He could, for instance, be instructed by the Health Professions Council to conduct surgery blindfolded.
By handicapping him, the other surgeons would stand a chance of getting work and making a name for themselves, too.
And this is why Caster Semenya needs to be hobbled. If things carry on as they are, it won’t be long before she is the only female athlete in the 800m and 1 500m events.
Why would anyone else keep pitching up if they knew for certain they were going to lose?
So the International Association of Athletics Federations (IAAF) has announced new rules for athletes with hyperandrogenism, commonly known as Constantly Winning Syndrome.
Caster will have to chemically dose herself every day to reduce the testosterone in her body if she hopes to compete in these events.
Do you know who else should take medication to lower their testosterone levels? Men, that’s who. Particularly those on the IAAF committee who can’t live with themselves knowing that a 27-year-old black woman from South Africa could kick their asses with one hand tied behind her back.
In women, hyperandrogenism can cause you to develop acne, hirsutism and a tendency to keep winning the 800m.
In men, excessive testosterone can cause you to develop a tendency to punch people in the face, order missile strikes on Syria, and attempt sex with anything that isn’t fixed to the ground.
Testosterone has a direct influence on libido. If I were married to someone who spent the day winning gold medals and still insisted on ravaging me mercilessly the moment they got home, I wouldn’t complain.
Especially not if they made dinner afterwards.
I would, however, object if they lay on the couch drinking beer and watching sport all evening and then, when they sobered up at 3am, expected me to roll over and take it like a man.
I should point out that in these fictional scenarios, I have no idea what gender I am.
Anyway, it’s not hyperandrogenism that provides an unfair advantage to athletes. It’s the training. If I spent all day in the gym, I could also run 1 500m in under 30 minutes.
If it’s levelling the playing field the IAAF is after, then let’s ban training altogether and throw competitions open to anyone whose body mass index is higher than their IQ. It’s elitist to have only eight people in the 100m.
I want to see 8 000 people turn up at the starting line. No dress code, either. Wear overalls or even nothing at all, if you like. And you can eat and drink while you run. Everyone who breaks the 10-minute barrier gets a medal.
If that’s too extreme, then at least give we non-practising athletes our own competitions. Disabled people have the Paralympics so why can’t we have the Drunkalympics?
Athletes will be breathalysed at the start of each event to ensure they aren’t under the limit. For instance, if you’re participating in the 20m stagger, you’d need to have a blood-alcohol level of at least 0.2%. Coaches will be allowed to provide their athletes with tequila shooters to ensure minimum requirements are met.
Given that most novices are unconscious by 0.15%, athletes will have to train hard if they hope to avoid the embarrassment of passing out before the starter’s gun is fired.
Athletes in the headline event – the 0.4% – are required to simply turn up and make their way onto the track without assistance.
The first person to stay standing for one minute, draw a diagram of a cat and not choke on his or anyone else’s vomit will be declared the winner.
If it’s unfair advantages the IAAF is worried about, then they will have to restrict the high jump to athletes who stand no taller than 1.4m in their socks.
People who have been convicted of violent crimes must be encouraged to participate in the shooting and stabbing events, and swimmers must make way for aquaphobics in the water events.
Dressage and other equestrian events must be accessible to marijuana smugglers from
Lesotho, while wrestling and boxing should be open to married couples only. Golf will be restricted to residents of squatter camps and members of the 28s.
If we’re going to be interfering, why stop at medical conditions like hyperandrogenism? Indeed, why stop at athletics? What about psychiatric conditions that drive people to accumulate more wealth than they can spend in several lifetimes?
Johann Rupert is worth $7billion and you can still find him selling cartons of Rembrandt behind the Spar on a Friday night.
Absa chief executive officer Maria Ramos took home R37million last year. How berserk is that? Then again, she has to work in a bank and is married to a man once feared across the Cape Flats for his mad skills with an Okapi knife so maybe she deserves it. If that were me, though, I’d work for one year and nobody would hear from me ever again.
Oh, look. I’ve just got an e-mail from Dstv. Addressed to me personally. That’s a first. “You probably think we haven’t noticed but we know you’ve stuck with us to get the best in entertainment.”
It’s true. I do spend a lot of time thinking that Dstv hasn’t noticed my loyalty and there are times I cry a bit when the feelings of neglect get too much. Then I brighten up when it occurs to me that they do notice when I stick with them because the moment I don’t, they cut me off.
“As a thank you for the years you’ve spent as a part of our family, we would like to give back with a special offer.”
At this, I wept openly. My own family barely tolerates me and now I find out that all along I have had another family. It doesn’t matter that they never call on my birthday, invite me for Christmas dinner or help pay for my surgeries.
They were there. That’s what matters. As if that’s not enough, they also want to give me something! Will this run of good fortune ever end?
“If the phone doesn’t ring and you’re having problems during the process, SMS ‘Help’ to 42480 and we’ll call you back with the exciting details.”
Oh dear. My phone often doesn’t ring. Often for weeks at a time. At what point will I know that I am having problems with the process?
Quite frankly, family, I am a little uncomfortable sending an SMS for help to an unknown number. I don’t know who might arrive. It could be the police. Or, worse, Jehovah’s Witnesses.
You seem genuinely grateful for my custom and I’m sure you will find a way to let me know about this exciting special offer.
What is it? Can I guess? Is it a new channel of Japanese game shows? A DVD of the mating habits of the common periwinkle? Or perhaps a Dstv keyring at a reduced price?
I can hardly wait.