The Scotsman

Of this sporting life

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27. In a piece called “How to be a real person”, Simmonds – who hit the headlines earlier this year after tweeting about an exchange with a woman in a swimming pool in the capital who had told her that she was so good she should consider joining a club team – writes of the struggles of moving from a regimented and focused daily life into the real world.

“Lots of athletes get into trouble when they leave elite sport, and it’s not too difficult to understand why. After being identified as ‘Lizzie the swimmer’ for so long, I’ve just morphed into ‘Lizzie the normal person’,” she wrote.

“If, like me, an athlete has often defined themselves by their successes in sport, then it can be difficult to surrender their hardwon identity in the search for a new one.”

She has a point. We see them, standing there on the podium, medals around their necks and assume that they have it made. Yet managing to merely financiall­y survive in competitiv­e sport is a feat in itself – for many without lucrative endorsemen­t and sponsorshi­p deals, there is little room for financial planning for the future. Athlete Jesse Owens, who scooped four golds at the 1936 Olympics, famously defended his decision to move into racehorse training for the money after retiring from running, saying: “I had four gold medals, but you can’t eat four gold medals.”

In addition, the psychologi­cal impact of carving out a life doing the thing that you love – and the only job you have known – then finding it has come to an end cannot be easy and sport as an industry is beginning to realise that. Sport Scotland employs dedicated “performanc­e lifestyle advisers” to help athletes through transition­s, while Abertay University in Dundee two years ago appointed the world’s first ever professor of duty of care in sport.

There are, of course, those who can keep on competing. Golfers, particular­ly, have access to a lucrative Masters tour, through which many can earn a decent amount of cash up to retirement age. But for long jumpers or javelin throwers, the spectator dollar is not likely to be as forthcomin­g.

Some retired athletes manage to move on to teaching, training or reporting. They are elite athletes, with decades of experience in a very specific field. Yet, even for those who are able to remain within the sector in some way, life is never quite the same.

While coaching – or joining sports-related organisati­ons, or becoming commentato­rs or pundits – might mean a chance to keep on wearing the trainers, kicking the ball, wearing the skates or at least talking the talk, it is simply not the same as actually taking part. Which is why many former athletes move into something else entirely.

Back in the days when rugby was non-profession­al – this only changed fully in 1995 – players would have kept “normal” jobs the whole time, which they could easily step back into after their sporting career came to an end. Many were dentists, lawyers or, like Scottish rugbyplaye­rjohnjeffr­ey, farmers.

In other sports, George Foreman is probably almost better known now for his cooking grill than his boxing success, while British hockey player Crista Cullen, who came out of retirement to take part in the Rio games in 2016 after winning gold in London 2012, now works in conservati­on in Kenya.

My sympathy is with Simmonds as she transforms into a “normal person”. It can’t be easy.

 ??  ?? Soccer Aid match, has retired from sprinting and signed for an Australian football team
Soccer Aid match, has retired from sprinting and signed for an Australian football team

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