David Owen

In the current messy and vituperative debate on the quality of governance, and therefore decision-making, at the World Anti-Doping Agency (WADA), one thing I think is clear: the athletes’ case for a bigger say would be far harder to resist if they offered to pay their way.

If Beckie Scott, or another athlete leader, were able to say, ‘Give us one-third of the seats on WADA’s Executive Committee and Foundation Board, and in return we will provide one-third of the agency’s annual budget’, I find it hard to see how, sooner or later, they would not get their way.

It would look small-minded in the extreme if the International Olympic Committee (IOC) then threatened to pull its financial support in protest at the dilution of its power; and while I realise this is not quite the same as saying that it would not do so, I fancy that, in the end, good sense would prevail.

So why don’t the athletes do this?

You might think the reason was money; you might, indeed, be outraged at my suggestion that our hard-pressed Olympic heroines and heroes should be expected to fork out in pursuit of a better anti-doping regime.

But consider this: WADA’s income in 2017 amounted to a fraction under $32 million (£24.4 million/€27.7 million).

It is going to start rising faster than in the recent past in coming years.

Nonetheless, it will be some time before it hits even $50 million (£38.4 million/€43.7 million).

So one can assess the required athlete contribution at somewhere around $15 million (£11.5 million/€13 million) a year.

An anti-doping summit held at the White House this week triggered further debate ©Twitter
An anti-doping summit held at the White House this week triggered further debate ©Twitter

Now, according to figures compiled by Deloitte, wage costs in 2016-17 in the five richest European football leagues totalled €8.5 billion ($9.8 billion/£7.5 billion).

Asking these privileged athletes to contribute one per cent of their football salaries, ie ignoring image rights, to support the struggle for cleaner sport should yield, in other words, some €85 million ($98 million/£75 million) - more than six times the required sum.

Now think about how much would be raised if all professional athletes outside this tiny footballing elite also put 1 per cent of their sports salaries into the pot; (it is hard to imagine any of them would not see it as a worthwhile investment, isn’t it?)

You appreciate why I do not think the obstacle is financial.

It is rather organisational.

Is there an existing body capable of arranging the collection of such a pot of athlete money and, by way of an encore, of electing, or otherwise choosing, a slate of WADA Executive Committee and Foundation Board members in whom their fellow athletes could have full confidence?

If there is, now might not be a bad time for it to poke its head above the parapet.

Athletes are going to have to organise – and organise on a global scale – if they are to stand much of a chance of reshaping sport more to their liking in the face of other powerful interest groups.

Don’t cry for TB, Argentina

And we thought Los Angeles had left it late before properly getting into the last Olympic race.

Wednesday (October 31) brought one of the more genuinely surprising sports stories of 2018, in the shape of the Argentine Olympic Committee (AOC)’s announcement that it was analysing the feasibility of a joint Buenos Aires/Ushuaia candidacy “for the celebration of the 2026 Winter Olympics at the End of the World”.

While initial thoughts might have centred around someone consuming one Malbec too many in the euphoric wake of a well-executed Youth Olympic Games, on further reflection the timing of this unexpected initiative appears quite clever.

It is unlikely to amount to anything unless none of the three present candidates - Calgary, Stockholm and Milan/Cortina d’Ampezzo - survive.

But it still seems all too possible that all might fall by the wayside.

This may be what Gerardo Werthein, the AOC President and staunch ally of his IOC counterpart Thomas Bach, had in mind when using the phrase “in the case the opportunity surges”.

If that were to happen, then, prior to Wednesday, many of us would have expected the IOC to turn, cap in hand, to Salt Lake City, in spite of the commercial headaches such a move would presage, with both the 2026 FIFA World Cup and the 2028 Summer Olympics being earmarked for the same - admittedly vast - advertising and sponsorship market.

Now that might not be necessary, though it is hard to see how an Argentinian Winter Games project could be compatible with Agenda 2020.

COA President Gerardo Werthein said Buenos Aires and Ushuaia could jointly bid for the 2026 Winter Olympics if the opportunity arises ©Getty Images
COA President Gerardo Werthein said Buenos Aires and Ushuaia could jointly bid for the 2026 Winter Olympics if the opportunity arises ©Getty Images

From Argentina’s perspective, meanwhile, if it were the only Games in town, so to speak, it ought to be able to drive a much harder bargain with the IOC and winter sports federations than if it were up against other bidders.

And Werthein, come what may, can expect the IOC President’s gratitude for trying to help extricate him from a potentially tight spot.

Another win-win-win, then?

I had spent an hour listening to Bach the day before the Argentina announcement at the 2018 Smart Cities & Sport Summit in Lausanne, and I must say he had struck me as noticeably despondent about the latest twists and turns of this strange 2026 race.

He appended climate change to the list of scapegoats for the Winter Games’ current woes, observing that “where there is climate change…people are saying that it makes no sense anymore to invest in winter sports as there will be no return on investment”.

And he adopted an almost philosophical tack in bewailing the fashion for referendums, relaying a comment recently made to him that, “in a referendum you get an answer to all the questions but the one you are asking”.

It’s funny, I sometimes feel the same way about press conferences.

Mike from Latvia steals the show

Notwithstanding the presence of both Bach and moi on the list of speakers, I have little fear of contradiction when I say that the undoubted star of the summit was one Mike from Latvia.

“Mike” is in this case short for “microphone”, and it stole the show by being tossed around from questioner to questioner, like a square-ish basketball, hence lightening the mood and avoiding the tedious business of waiting while an orthodox microphone is ferried laboriously from the gentleman with a pink bow-tie in row Z to the lady with green shoes in row A.

On making further enquiries, I discovered that the product, known as a Catchbox, was developed by three students at Aalto University in Finland.

Nowadays, they are manufactured at a factory in Riga and the company has 30 employees.

You can get a better idea by visiting Catchbox.com.

Bach also appeared to be impressed: “interesting mike”, he said when he saw it in action. 

I hope this means that a Catchbox emblazoned with the Olympic rings will be deployed at the next IOC Session; it would help to enliven these increasingly turgid occasions no end.