They say it takes a village to raise an athlete, and they’re absolutely right. For every swimmer, shooter, gymnast and judoka there’s a dozen coaches, physios, technicians and relatives.
But that’s only part of the village. Because for every swimmer, shooter, gymnast and judoka there’s also a dozen teachers, childminders, neighbours and bus drivers. There’s the lollipop person who helped you reach school, the street sweeper who whistled through the morning, and the shopkeeper who sold you penny sweets.
These are the people you don’t recall when you become an elite athlete. You don’t realise they’re watching from home – telling their children about your crossover – when you reach your first major tournament.
I didn’t realise that until I won Olympic gold in 2012. And then I saw the selfies: reams of familiar faces by a gold post box in Leek, Staffordshire – my hometown. Katherine Grainger and I rowed faster than our competitors one afternoon, and it did something for the village that raised me.
Watkins and Grainger
Public investment fuels athletes
As far as I know I’m Leek’s only Olympian; it’s a lonely title I’m proud to hold. But Leek wouldn’t have an Olympian at all – nor I the life and career that I do – without public investment.
It was public investment that took me from permanent residence on dry land to gold on Dorney Lake. It was public investment that allowed me to train and compete while paying my bills. And it was public investment that lets me see children’s faces light up when they hold a medal at places like the now-thriving North Staffordshire Rowing Club.
In short, it was public investment that allowed me to give back.
That’s long been the story for Britain’s Olympians, Paralympians and other elite-level athletes; the cycle of inspiring their communities goes back generations. As a child myself, an unforgettable visit from Sharron Davies and Kriss Akabusi made elite sport seem real and attainable.
For my part, I once met a girl who never considered being an athlete until she attended an activity session I ran. Recently we crossed paths, and I found out she’s forged a career representing the country.
That girl – now an adult, of course – will be hugely grateful for the investment in her journey. Every elite athlete is. But she faces strains we didn’t consider much in 2012: a second job, the hunt for ever more elusive sponsors, and financial sacrifice from friends and family.
That’s because, like so much in this country, sport is feeling the squeeze. Athlete incomes have all but frozen in recent years, so that many are relying on relations to fill the gaps. UK Sport, the funding body, is making heartbreaking decisions to cut its own workforce with the aim of protecting sport’s frontline as much as possible.
Quitting sport?
The retort, I suppose, is clear: so what if athletes aren’t funded as much as they were? They must be doing okay, right?
Not so. A BBC study of 143 female athletes showed more than a third have considered giving up sport because of the cost of living crisis. Internal research from my own organisation, the British Elite Athletes Association, shows similar trends.
If this is our future, the country’s talent pool will shrink until only those with more privileged circumstances can take part.
That means fewer communities invigorated by real, commendable role models. Fewer children inspired to take up sport, to stay active and healthy in mind and body. That, of course, means greater strain on the system elsewhere.
This summer, an inspirational generation will return from Paris and immediately pay back the investment in their careers. Already UK Sport’s ‘ChangeMaker’ initiative has signed up swathes of athletes to help them maximise their social impact once home.
That’s because when you invest public money you receive a public service: for every athlete powered by the British public through tax and the National Lottery, we earn the stories, speeches and stars to weave threads across hundreds of communities. We earn the identity of being a sporting nation.
Both UK Sport and our new government have noble aims for this sector. UK Sport is working, in its words, to “power a broader range of champions”. It’s an ambition I wholeheartedly support, and I can see their genuine intent to do so, but they will be prevented from fulfilling their strategy without the right backing.
That makes this a rare turning point for the new government. Lisa Nandy, the Secretary of State for Culture, Media and Sport, recently said: “Our elite athletes prove what can be achieved for anyone, anywhere when we nurture our wealth of talent.”
She’s absolutely right – but only for so long. The sheen of my post box can’t last forever: we need new generations to inspire our country.
Anna Watkins MBE is a London 2012 champion and CEO of the British Elite Athletes Association.