In the Swim

Swimming is in our blood.

 When I was a child I was up at the crack of dawn, walking to the local ‘Olympic’ pool to ‘do laps’.

Soap bars came with badges of Australian Swimming Olympians that we gathered as if they were brigh blue bower bird treasures.

 Our heads were filled with the exploits and accomplishmernts of Murray Rose, Lorraine Crapp, Dawn Frazer  and the ‘Konrad Kids’.

At the Melbourne Olympics  Australian swimmers won 14 gold medals – 12 more than their nearest rival the USA who managed a paltry two. 

The Konrad Kids cycled to the Bankstown pool;did two hours training; cycled home for breakfast; went to school;  went back to the pool in the afternoon and shone at the 1958 Empire Games. A bit ironic for Latvian immigrants.

We were all out there at dawn ploughing the water, inspired by the possibility that like our heroes, we too could be champions.

That was before The Institute of Sport, sports psychologists, scientifically designed training regimes, super swim suits, performance enhancing substances, sponsorship, and ‘swim meets’.

I never was a champion. I do have certificates for my accomplishments as a an adult Swimming Club member and for wins at Aussie Master’s  carnivals – not a lot, but enough to feel good about myself as a swimmer.

But I was smart enough to know from an early age that I was nowhere near a world beater and better not to shout my megre acomplishments from the roof top.  I was a small minnow in a large pool, so to speak.

There has been a lot of chat this week about the failure of the Australian swimming team at the recent London Olympics.  Ten medals in total with only one  gold. Arguably our worst performance ever.

As a nation we have been beating ourselves up with questions such as:

·       Do we expect too much?

·       Are we too focused on winning?

·       Isn’t Silver or Bronze good enough?

·       Were the athletes underprepared?

·       Were the selections right?

·       Did they have suitable guidance?

·       Did Social media detract from their performance?

Turns out, if you read the Pippa Grange authored Bluestone Report* just released, that the problems lie in leadership, shared vision, ethics, accountability, and discipline.

Standards, discipline and accountabilities for the swim team at the London Olympics were too loose,  she says. 

As a teacher I have learnt a number of things:

•     High expectations are critical for young people to achieve at all levels.  If you set the bar too low, they will aspire only to that level.

The Bluestone Report says:

a number of swimmers felt that being an Olympian was abundant success enough; they

had no further expectation than being there and competing. Making the team earlier in the year was the win; the rest was a bonus, an experience to savor rather than a job to complete.

My old Ancient History teacher used to say: Aim for the stars or you will never get over the trees.

• Young people need to be coached and scripted for new experiences. It seems that with near half the swimming team being first time Olympians there was an obvious need for  guidance about what to expect from the environment and considered plans for how they could each respond to unfamiliar scenarios

.

One respondent to the report said:

It was the biggest moment in my life as a performer, and I felt uneasy and unsure how to be.

The report adds:

Many participants talked about the Olympics being like no other competition on earth and the difference is something you need to hear about, prepare for and anticipate.

• In their formative years all young people need to know what the rules are, where the lines are and what happens if you step over them. They won’t always obey, and they will make mistakes, but it is their coaches and mentors role to articulate the expectations, monitor and support  how those expectations are being enacted, and feedback to the young person the effects of their actions.  

The Bluestone Report says:

There were enough culturally toxic incidents across enough team members that breached agreements (such as getting drunk, misuse of prescription drugs, breeching curfews, deceit, bullying) to warrant a strong, collective leadership response that included coaches, staff and the swimmers. No such collective action was taken

There are winners and losers in competition- that’s its nature- by definition.  We pour money into elite sports people who the experts, and their past performance, tells us will bring forth winners.  We expect them to perform extraordinarily, else, why no direct our resources across the whole population to make as all equal in the pool. I’m just reading Margaret Atwood and genetically modifying us all with big Thorpie feet and calling the new species Thorpeople might be the solution.

I agree with the Bluestone report that  there is a need to manage the media and it’s commentary of expectation both in the formal traditional forms and it’s more casual social presences, but when our hopes are raised by the athletes themselves talking up their capability, who else are we to believe?  Are these young people so out of touch with their abilities in comparison to other swimmers in the world, or have they  (and us) been led to believe they are much better than they really are?  To quote a cliché: You have to walk the talk.

 

As for the bonding session in Manchester, over the Olympic years we’ve had numerous incidents of questionable behaviour (both good and bad) by young Olympians. But I think the press conference missed the point which is surely about on the spot guidance, direction, support and discipline for a group of young people who were being backed by us all to represent our country. Instead we got a public confession where the words had been obviously schooled and scripted . The swimmers demonstrated they were very conscious of what they were and were not to say. They were on song.  A pity that same guidance hadn't been given pre London.

Swimming Australia has indicated its preparedness to implement the recommendations from Bluestone and also those of the Independent Review of Swimming.  They make sense, and so long as they don’t get bogged down in process and PR rather than changed practice we might again see young people aspire to bring home gold for Australia, and more importantly modelling a type of celebrity that champions health and fitness rather than high priced handbags.

*https://assets.imgstg.com/assets/console/document/documents/Swimming%20Australia%20Culture%20Review1.pdf

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Art work of the Week

Where are my goggles? Pencil drawing on paper 260x180 mm

What, Soap?

When my daughter turned thirty I received a phone call. 

You never told me I could expect grey hairs for my Birthday, she cried down the line.

 When she turned 40 the phone call was to tell me she had just found her first grey eyelash.

Bennie has announced this week that he will retire as age prevents him from performing his duties  effectively and we will soon be watching for smoke from the Vatican.

There are a lot of things about aging that nobody tells you.

We are a family that suffers from cramp and seem to need excessive amounts of salt in our diet. Good living purists and health freaks with whom I sometimes dine are appalled by the amount of white stuff that gets sprinkled across my dinner. 

Of late I’ve discovered that the cramps are far more frequently. 

I have imagined that I might have impending thrombosis, a cancer of some sort, some obscure tropical or African disease acquired in my travels and that both my legs would soon be in need of  amputation. I imagined what life would be like without my legs and whether I would be a good paraplegic and a potential Special Olympics contender. For a moment I envisaged myself as the South African  Blade Runner, but ’m glad that thought only lasted a second given his arrest in the last few days. 

In an effort at self diagnosis I have consulted Dr Google and learn that 70% of adults over 50 suffer nocturnal cramps. That figure was a surprise. 

And, it turns out my complaint can be treated with the simplest of remedies. I can have a spoon handy and place it on the offending cramp when it occurs; or I can sleep with a bar of soap under the sheets at the end of the bed. 

Since I don’t live in Ireland where playing with spoons is a mark of a good pub musician, the image of a mad woman continually tapping herself with an item of cutlery – particularly when required in public places - was just a bit beyond my eccentricities. 

So I have opted for the soap.

Instructions call for wrapping the soap in elastic bands and pinning it to the bedclothes so it doesn’t move. I’ve just stuck it under the bottom sheet and hoped for the best.  Mind you, I am worried that should I, by some sheer stroke of luck, or madness, happen upon an attractive and willing playmate, he will wonder what I am doing with an apparent urinal deodoriser in my bedclothes. Hopefully I will get enough notice of the impending event that I can whip away the soap bar before our passions overcome us and we are writhing around in ecstatic bliss.

…oops, where was I?

That’s right – the cramps.

So far the soap is working. 

I’ve been reading recently about the placebo effect and truth be told that may be what I am experiencing. Nevertheless, I am not now writhing about like I am having a fit when I awake or sitting bolt upright from slumber crying out in pain and frightening the neighbours. 

So whatever it is that is working, it’s working..

I’ve got options though should the remedy fail:

·       If the cramps return I am advised to throw out the soap and replace it with a new bar

·       I can decorate a spoon so that it looks like a fly swat and flip away at the cramps as they arise

·       Or, I can go back to reading Tom Stoppard who has already taught me that nothing is insoluble given a large enough plastic bag. 

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Art Work of the Week

 Some would call knitting Tea Cosies a habit that comes with aging.

Cool Running created after a conversation with the honey lady at the Tuggeranong Markets

Lessons from Singapore

I’ve just returned from a week in Singapore – a week of sightseeing, Tiger beer, huge walks, blister torture, hawker stalls, Dempsey Hill restaurants, art galleries, exhibition openings  and the dazzle of Orchard Road.

On my visit this time I have learnt a number of new things about Singapore

• ·         6.9 Million is the optimum population limit for the city.

A white paper released during the last weeks has sparked public interest and debate about what this all means for PR’s (Permanent Residents) and whether the import of foreign workers takes away jobs from locals; expansion of the MRT (the rail service), its impact on existing wildlife corridors and why an extra carriage or two added to trains to give additional capacity is an impossibility; golf course closures – whose will be gone by 2030 – the magic target date; up-skilling local workers and enticing older people back in to the workforce. It all sounds so familiar.

The law and foreign affairs minister has ‘urged young people to think hard about the need for economic growth, to create enough good jobs for a rising number of future graduates, and generate the tax revenue needed to support a growing number of elderly people. The Straits Times Feb 4

• ·         You can clean anything with a whisk broom

The city is pristine – no unauthorised weeds, leaves or litter grow, fall, drift or accumulate. There is no real sign of polishing windows and wiping down handprints, but everything sparkles. Occasionally there is a man with a whisk broom who seems to shoot out of the shrubbery like a robo-vacuum cleaner sweeping up offending debris with a typical Asian whisk broom. My guess is that these folk are hidden everywhere on the alert for recalcitrant litter.  Or, to ascribe to my travel mate’s theory, a whole hive of worker bees emerge between 3and 5am and spring clean the city before anyone notices.

• ·         English

The Singaporeans are fluent users of English, but often with a certain archaic quaintness. Boats ‘ply’ their way up the river,  issues ‘spur serious debate’, troublemakers are reported as ‘rogues’ and ‘ring leaders’; and you can still hear the occasional ‘La’ sneak into a conversation.

Charges that one might have laid against one for offensive or illegal conduct include: Outrage of modesty and Insult of modesty.

• ·         Home spun wisdom turns up in unexpected places.

On a boat trip around Singapore you can learn from a young Singaporean deck hand that ‘its not easy to be easy. It’s not difficult to be difficult’

• ·         We are all part of Caesar’s last breath

According to Physics we can assume that the molecules which Caesar exhaled in his last breath have diffused evenly to the whole atmosphere and by Mathematical calculation can determine that  every person breathes in a molecule of that last breath. You can check it out by Googling the topic, but it’s better discussed overlooking the southernmost point of Singapore with a cold Tiger beer in hand. A trip to Sentosa Island is not all glitz and manicured beachfront.

• ·         Everyone is hard wired

Step on to the MRT and 9/10 people are connected to some sort of device: watching movies, playing games, smsing, everything quiet except for the occasional hushed conversation, the announcement of upcoming stations and the perpetual warning to beware of the platform gap. I am reminded of the Educational thinker who on being told by a teacher that students were not engaged replied: Look at them in the playground. They are totally engaged!

• ·         Tips for travel to and from Pulau Ubin

Pulau Urbin is a small island off the Malaysian Coast and is accessed by bumboat which has no scheduled timetable and departs only when there are 12 passengers waiting to board. Upon arrival one is met with a range of signs that advise travellers about their safety including tips to keep monkeys out of your home. I now know that if I do not feed them they will not bother me. I will remember to apply this tip when I get home.

Do not return from Pulau Ubin carrying a knife. When you are scanned by the sentry at the entry point you will be arrested, charged, fined and imprisoned for 8 years. Unless you are one of a group of holy men in white skirts and exposed torso marked with white paint on your face and back. Then you can walk right on through without scanning as you can obviously be trusted.

• ·         Why there is minimal crime

If you are caught making graffiti you will be fined $30 00, caned and imprisoned for 2 years.

If you take flammable liquids on a train you will be fined $5000, smoking gets you a $1000 fine and $500 for eating or drinking on the service. You are absolutely forbidden to take durians on the train – the penalty is not spelt out so I wonder if that is because it is too terrible to articulate.

If you take home a diamond ring that has been accidentally left behind by a traveller at your security station at the airport you will be jailed for two years as you have bought the public service in to disrepute.

If you are on a bus you are prohibited from assaulting the captain.

• ·         The lunar New Year is a big deal

Red and gold decorations were appearing everywhere during my stay in preparation for last night’s New Year celebration. I have learnt that at the celebrations the Prime Minister would play with firecrackers, as only he is allowed – words of our taxi driver.

I also now know that the giving of red packets with crisp unfolded bank notes is essential for good luck, as is a new deep V cleavage obtainable from a local cosmetic surgery outlet.

• ·         The cost of living is over the top

A basic new car will cost in excess of $100 000 and probably closer to $200 000. Apartment sale prices of $11million + were not misprints. $7000 per month is not  excessive for a decent apartment.

But if you do manage to purchase a car ensure that you have a pumpkin, mandarine or cumquat adorning the dashboard so that good luck settles upon you.

• ·         You can fix an overheated motor with a leaf blower, and the world ends at Changi

After a morning’s trek through the rainforest of Pulau Ubin we returned to the mainland and decided to walk from Changi Village along the beach front hoping to arrive at Changi airport. We soon learnt that it is almost impossible to do so unless one has trained with marathon walking for many months and has the water and supplies to last the trip. Two+ hours on, and two+ hours back we should have taken the advice of a local who we asked for directions in the first place. But we saw the amazing coastline and did come across some local workers who were doing restoration footpath work with a machine, that like us, was overheated. They had a leaf blower out cooling it down. We should have stood in line as it obviously worked for the machine. 

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This Week's Art Work

...OK, So, it's some photos taken at the Gardens by the Sea.