Gaming the games

It is easy to define cheating, but tricky to use only one, unchanging definition in sports.

During the 2012 Olympic Games in London people were shocked when four women’s badminton teams purposely tried to lose a final match in the round robin pool stage of the Olympic tournament to gain a more favorable draw in the knockout rounds eventually leading to the gold medal match.  

The teams were disqualified, the players were shamed, the coaches were investigated, and officials from china, South Korea, and Indonesia—the nations of the offending teams—were quick to issue apologies and try to restore their standing in the word of Olympic sports.

But despite the condemnations and apologies, the practice of “gaming the game” has a long history in sports, and is naïve for IOC and Badminton World Federation (BWF) officials to think otherwise. They know that this occurs regularly in tournaments organized in this way where teams often have an incentive to lose in order to eventually win a medal or prize money.  

Whenever the stakes for winning a medal or money are high most professional coaches and athletes will use strategies to achieve their ultimate goal, even if the strategies violate game rules, or involve under-performing or strategically losing in the short run to be successful in the long run. In fact, when they don’t do this, many fans and commentators accuse them of being naïve or incompetent.  

Most of us who follow sports know that strategic rule violations and strategic “tanking” (not trying to do one’s best or win a game, match, or contest) occur regularly. For the most part, we see it as “part of the game.” Examples include the following:

·       Strategic rule violations: Basketball players are taught to commit “good fouls” and “hard fouls,” and NFL teams deliberately take penalties by letting the 30-second play clock run out so they can gain better field goal position or waste time at the end of a close game.

·       Strategic under-performance: Baseball pitchers intentionally walk a batter instead of using their skills to face the batter directly, basketball teams try to run out the clock by holding the ball rather than trying their best to score, top swimmers slack off during qualifying heats to save their energy for the ultimate medal race, and playoff-bound NFL teams use second and third team players instead of their best players in late season games that they can lose without affecting their place in the playoffs.

·       Strategic losing: Tennis players tank matches to be eliminated early from low status tournaments to save their bodies and let injuries heal before upcoming high status tournaments, and NBA teams don’t try to win late-season games so they can be placed in a team lottery for the number one draft pick.

Of course, there’s a difference between violating rules in an effort to win and not trying to win or purposely losing. But this difference becomes fuzzy when the outcome of an end-of-season NFL game has no bearing on winning subsequent playoff games and the Super Bowl. Similarly, losing or tying a match in a group pool badminton match to gain an advantage in the draw for the knock out rounds in the Olympics can be part of an overall strategy  to win a medal.

So what is cheating and what isn’t? When are violating rules, under-performing, and losing—or at least not trying to win—a form of cheating and when are they part of an accepted strategy for obtaining an ultimate win?  These were the issues raised by the badminton teams during the 2012 Olympic Games.  

To put this in perspective for people in the United States, imagine that Misty May and Kerri Walsh, the best beach volleyball team in the world, strategically lost a match that would not affect their quest for a medal but would prevent them from meeting and possibly eliminating another skilled US team that also had a chance to win a medal. Imagine further that this strategy put both teams in position to win gold and silver medals by allowing them to play each other in the gold medal match. Imagine even further that the US beach volleyball coach told them to use this strategy and their sponsor—also the sponsor for the other US team—told them that this strategy was a win-win for everyone involved. 

With all this at stake, let’s imagine that May and Walsh cleverly tank their match and eventually meet the other US team in the finals, guaranteeing them the gold and silver medals. Additionally, this double win increased the fund raising power of the USOC and the volleyball federation, and increased visibility for their sponsor that gave endorsement contract extensions to the four women and additional money to promote beach volleyball among young people in the United States.

This may sound like a far-fetched scenario, but it is very similar to the scenario facing the Chinese team in the badminton scandal. Given this similarity, here are questions from a U.S. perspective:  What would be the response of fans in the U.S. where Olympic medals are used as part of a global scorecard for nations? Would they condemn May and Walsh as cheaters or praise them as wise tournament bracket managers? How would media commentators represent May and Walsh to their audience—as cheaters or “team players”?

Here are questions from perspectives outside the U.S.: If the Olympics were in Rio, Brazil and many Brazilians of moderate means had sacrificed to buy ticket to see the best in the world play during the day of the tanked match, would they see May and Walsh as cheaters and demand refunds for their tickets? How would Sky TV commentators represent May and Walsh to their European audience—as ugly or loyal Americans? And  how would the IOC and other officials Rio Olympics respond?

These questions raise issues about who draws the line between cheating and acceptable strategy in various situations and how they make their decision. For example, if there were no spectators or only nonpaying spectators who knew the players, there would be no issue and certainly no moral condemnations of the players. In fact, in this situation, the team benefiting from a loss might just forfeit the math so the rest of the competition schedule could continue.

But the cheater versus acceptable strategy line shifts in the case of commercial sports where sponsors seek revenues, promoters seek legitimacy, and paying spectators seek excitement. This is why Sebastian Coe, the chief organizer of the London 2012 Olympic Games said in response to the badminton scandal, “It’s depressing. Who wants to sit through something like that?” Of course, what he meant was that “we set high ticket prices (about $115 for the badminton session) with the promise that spectators would see athletes conform to the spirit of the Olympic Games. Coe is familiar with the reality facing athletes for whom winning medals is usually a life changing achievement, but he chose to view the situation from the perspective of the spectators. However, neither he nor other officials refunded money to those who bought tickets to the tanked matches.

The athletes who make it to the Olympics are well aware of “spirit of the Olympic Games,” but many of them have heard it so many times from people who profit from saying it that they see it more as a marketing slogan than a non-negotiable, all-encompassing principle. They also know about the overwhelming commercialization of the Olympics, the power and influence of corporate sponsors and media companies, the billions of dollars that change hands in connection with the games, and the life changing stakes associated with winning medals. And this makes it beyond naïve for IOC and BWF officials to think that the abstract notion of “Olympic Spirit” will be the sole guide for athletes in the Olympics. So why did they organize the badminton competition in a way that gives teams an incentive to tank matches in a quest for medals?

Of course, the spectators who consume the Olympics and believe myths about the “essential purity and goodness of sports” are likely to condemn competitors that fail to reaffirm their beliefs. It is easier for them to condemn individual athletes and coaches than it is to revise long held beliefs that sport somehow transcends  the realities of everyday life.      

Welcome to the Olympic celebration!

The NBC talking heads tell us repeatedly that the Olympic games are a celebration of dedication and sacrifice, with homage paid to martyr-like mothers whose support make success possible. But mainstream media narratives notwithstanding, the games are a celebration of wealth, technology, self-absorbed athletes, and monopoly capitalism—something that people from wealthy, high tech, medal winning corporate capitalist states now see as normal.

     
Those tuning into the spectacle won’t be told that 80 of the 204 nations participating in London have never won a medal, and another 51 claim less than 5 medals in Olympic history. Some nations have not won a medal for at least 40 years. But many wealthy nations have enjoyed much success with the U.S. winning 2,549 medals and various configurations of Russia/USSR and Germany winning 1755 and 1,698, respectively, since the modern games began in 1896.

China and India with over 35 percent of the world’s population have won 429 and 20 medals respectively, with all of China’s medals being won since 1984 when wealth began to accumulate for some people. Furthermore, the generally poor nations that have won medals often are represented by athletes who have trained in the U.S., Canada, or Western Europe or benefited from resources delivered to their region by talent scouts and athletic training missionaries from wealthy nations here there are resources to travel the world and spot medal winning potential amidst poverty and then help to train them.

Even in wealthy countries, a disproportionate share of medals is won by athletes from well-off families. We’ve heard more than a few times that women made up half of Britain’s 2012 Olympic team but little is said about half of the team attending exclusive private schools and training in sports that require resources that are out of reach for 90-percent of living human beings. If data on the socio-economic status of Olympian’s families could be collected in other wealthy nations, we would see similar patterns.

Exceptions to this celebration of wealth are Cuba and the former Soviet Union where central state planners used public money to produce an impressive number of medal winners. Other exceptions are the individual athletes with wealthy corporate sponsors. For example, U.S. hurdler Lolo Jones has the face and physique to attract corporations seeking to capitalize on the media attention she receives. But even Red Bull, her major sponsor, hedges its investment in Jones by arranging for 22 scientists and technicians to work with her over the past seven years. These performance specialists monitor her every move with 40 motion-capture cameras, an Optojump system that replicates how her feet hit the track surface on every stride she takes during 110 meters of hurdling. The Phantom Flex high speed camera moves astride of Jones and records 1500 frames a second as she runs. The resulting analyses of these data and input from other specialists shape her daily training.

Because athletes in a growing number of events are maxing out the potential of the human body, they now see technology that will give them an edge. That technology is delivered and managed by physiologists, biomechanists, medical experts, biochemists, strength coaches, nutritionists, psychologists, recovery experts, and statistical analysts who work with coaches as they turn science and technology into a training necessity for winners. Access to this technology and the people who can use it costs more than most villages in developing nations produce every quadrennium.

Elite athletes today focus 24/7 on training to maintain their access to these experts and the technology that sponsors provide. This leaves them no time for normal developmental experiences. But we hear glowing narratives connecting this endless self-absorbed training with character and leadership development, discipline, and overall success in life. What we don’t hear how many of their friends and family members no longer enjoy their company, how many of their athlete peers are left in the wake of this training regime, and how training for highly specialized athletic performances leaves many of them unprepared to cope with post-sport challenges.

For spectators who pay outlandish prices to enter the areas in and around the Olympic Village and the athletes staying there, McDonalds, Coca-Cola, and the IOC make sure that free enterprise is nowhere in sight. Logo spies roam London’s commercial zones to see if any form of the word “Olympic” is being used in shop windows. Tech detectives monitor millions of blogs, tweets, and social media sites to identify ambush marketing. The message: it is illegal to benefit financially from the Olympic spectacle and its unpaid athletes unless you pay millions upfront to do so.  

Docu-dramas in the media coverage of the games won’t include up-close and personal stories about the people fined $200 for entering street lanes reserved for Olympic officials and the executives and guests of sponsoring corporations, or about small businesses that suffer and sometimes fail due to the disruption caused by the games.

For the 17 days and thousands of hours of television coverage, people watching the games at home will marvel at the bodies and performances of the athletes. Most conclude that there’s no sense leaving the couch to do sports at level that is embarrassing after watching Olympic athletes. As spectators experience their highs from sugar-filled soft drinks and carbo- and fat-laden fast foods, they will hear about WADA making certain that the athletes are competing clean. The media companies spending billions on rights fees cannot afford to have spectators think otherwise.

So enjoy the games and the media generated fictions created about them. It would be a shame to use that giant flat screen TV and pay those budget-breaking monthly provider fees just to watch reality shows and play video games.  

Flag Football, Anyone?

As football in the United States has come under increasing scrutiny in connection with brain damage caused by shockingly high rates concussions and repeated sub-concussive head trauma, league official at all levels have either tried to defuse concerns or they have changed rules to reduce head contact that can cause brain damage among players, especially young players.

Apologists for football who cannot imagine life without regular doses of violent contact between males of all ages have defensively argued that accidents and injuries are a part of life and that young people can be injured while riding bikes or crossing the street.

Of course, hard hits to the head are not an inevitable part of riding bikes and adults have taken great care to see that children are safeguarded as they walk home from school. Parents religiously teach their children to cross streets so they will never be hit by a car. But when it comes to tackle football and the growing evidence that it involves regular head hits that can cause brain damage, these same adults and parents say that there is a need to reduce hits to the head and chances of brain damage.

Apparently, the elimination of dangerous head hits and the preservation of heavy contact football is valued enough to accept a reduction rather than an elimination of brain injuries. Violent contact, the apologists argue, is inherent in “the game” and valued by some players and most spectators.

But remember, we’re talking about brain damage here, not torn ACLs, stitches on a chin, or broken arms.

Parents who remember this are now beginning to ask why they should encourage or even allow their children to engage in an activity that involves regular hits to the head, sometimes with concussive force.

Think about it: if we see a parent regularly hitting a child’s head with enough force to occasionally cause a concussion, wouldn’t we intervene or call social services? In most states we are obliged to do the latter and a child protection worker or police officer would intervene. But if parents permit their children to play heavy contact football and attend games during which regular hits to the head are endured, they are seen as praiseworthy.

So if the officials running youth football programs change a few rules to reduce head hits rather create a game that eliminates them except as relatively rare accidents, does this meet our expectations for responsible action?

Would we approve of a child protection worker who told parents that regularly hit their 12-year old son on the head that they should hit the boy less often or only on weekends?

Or to use a less dramatic example, would we praise parents who allowed and even encouraged their children to play a bike riding game in which potentially concussive head trauma was inevitable?

Of course, few parents would approve of this game and even fewer would praise their kids and pay for the equipment needed to play it five times a week and another time on the weekend when they would watch and cheer for them.

Are parents really willing to suspend reason and the safety of their children’s brains simply to maintain the revered place of heavy contact football in U.S. culture?

We shall see.

In the meantime, is there anyone for replacing heavy contact youth football with incidental contact flag football?

This piece was provoked by a June 13th New York Times headline that read, “Trying to reduce head injuries, youth football limits practices.”