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Run from race walking One way to trim the fat from a bloated Olympic docket
SYDNEY, Australia -- The International Olympic Committee is frequently taken to task for adding new sports to its already overcrowded schedule. (Did we really need to make an Olympic sport out of trampoline?) The fault, however, is not that new sports are added, since the Games should stay relevant to the interests of society at large. The fault lies in that more sports aren't thrown out on their respective ears. It didn't used to be that way. Cricket, croquet and the once beloved "equestrian high jump" were evicted after the 1900 Games. The "plain high dive," which allowed no twists or somersaults, used to be an Olympic sport. So was live pigeon shooting. Now they won't even release live pigeons as part of the Opening Ceremonies, fearful of traumatizing the little beasts. Golf left after after 1904, the same year the fearful "plunge for distance," a diving event, met its Olympic demise. After 1920 the still popular tug-of-war was given the heave-ho daddy-o, and in 1932 "rope climbing" and the curiously named "club swinging" were discarded. The last sport to get the axe? Polo in 1936. Small wonder the Olympics is now so bloated it can't get up from its own stuffed couch.
One sport in, one sport out, just like the T-shirt drawer. That ought to be the new policy for the Games. And I have just the place to start cleaning house. Race walking. The last good thing to come out of race-walking was Walk, Don't Run, the 1966 Cary Grant-Samantha Eggar-Jim Hutton movie. Since then it's been all downhill. TV hates it. Spectators won't pay to watch it. And no one who isn't in the Olympics practices it, since that ridiculous shamble leads to the utter ruination of your hips. It's so contrived. Why race walking? It isn't fast. It isn't graceful. It isn't even natural. It's a Fourth of July picnic event. Why not an Olympic three-legged race? How about a race that demands walking on your hands? How about race-praying, in which competitors would walk 20 kilometers on their knees? Thursday may have been race walking's nadir, and that's saying something. In the last kilometer of the women's 20K walk, all three leaders were disqualified. Not for drugs, happily, but for not "walking" legally. In race walking part of the foot must be in contact with the ground at all times. Competitors cannot become airborne. At least they cannot become airborne more than twice, since they're allowed two warnings. Upon the third warning, they're ejected from the race. And that's what happened in Sydney. First 1999 world champion Hongyu Liu of China,who was leading the race as she approached Olympic Stadium, received her third red flag for, um, not walking. You can't really say she was running. But she was definitely airborne, which made me wonder about that 1999 world title. Is that tainted or what? Like she never was airborne there, and suddenly she started kind of bouncing at the Olympics? I don't think so. The new leader was Italy's Elisabetta Perrone . She held that position for about 50 yards when she, too, was red-flagged for the third time. Gone. She couldn't believe it. She kept at it, unwilling to give up her lead. Finally officials convinced her of the horrible truth. If you're in the air, it's not fair. The new leader was Australia's own Jane Saville. She had entered the stadium, 19.8 kilometers behind her. The crowd would have gone wild if anyone gave a damn about race walking, because, as one spectator remarked, "Bloody hell, they'd cheer a monkey if it was wearing green and gold." The finish line was in sight, when -- oh no! -- the third red flag for Saville. Evicted from the race. No question, replays showed she was in the air. Another cheat exposed. But the agony! The poor lass burst into tears, sobbing and braying like a mule, as China's Liping Wang waddled home first. When Saville finally recovered her composure, an enterprising TV reporter stuck a microphone in her tear-stained face and, after the perfunctory questions about how she felt, how disappointed she was, etc., he made a surprising inquiry. "What do you want?" he asked. I don't know what he was looking for. An official review of her disqualification? A glass of water? A hug? I'm certain, however, her answer surprised him. "I'd like a gun. So I can shoot myself," Saville replied. Save a bullet for the sport, Jane. Let's bring back the tug-of-war. Sports Illustrated senior writer E.M. Swift is in Sydney covering the Games
for the magazine and CNNSI.com. Check back to read Swift's behind-the-scenes
reports from Down
Under.
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