Tales from the fringes of sport and society…
Annika Schleu was dreaming of Olympic gold when she sat astride the beast that would break her heart. As per the rules of modern pentathlon, she’d had just 20 minutes with her randomly allocated horse before attempting to guide him around a deserted show jumping course.
It was the 2021 Olympics in Tokyo, with its post-apocalyptic aesthetic of face masks, saliva swabs, and empty stadia. Amid this destabilising environment, a tearful Schleu would soon realise that her horse’s name, Saint Boy, was one dripping in irony.
The modern pentathlon involves five events: fencing, swimming, show jumping, pistol shooting, and cross-country running. As the show jumping commenced, Schleu led the entire field. By the time it was over, not only was the German dead last, but her sport was staring into the abyss.
Saint Boy had no interest in completing any of the jumps. Wild-eyed and agitated, the horse’s frenzied demeanour was mirrored by his rider, who sobbed and thrashed her arms like a toddler being told the soft play’s closed. It was then that Schleu’s coach, Kim Raisner, decided to intervene. Reaching over the gate, she punched the horse on the backside. This violent act calmed neither horse nor athlete.
Before long, Schleu’s Olympic hopes were crushed, the IOC sent Raisner home in disgrace, and the whole sorry scene went viral. For a sport with the word “modern” in its name, there was nothing progressive about this display of animal cruelty and emotional vulgarity. The public viewed it with the sort of mystified revulsion reserved for bygone horrors like caning schoolchildren or trepanning.
To understand the significance of what happened next, you need to know that the sport was devised by the founder of the modern Olympic Games, Pierre de Coubertin, in 1912. Inspired by the pentathlon of the ancient Games - based on the skills a soldier needed to defend his fort (wrestling, long jump, javelin, discus, and running) - the modern pentathlon simulated what a 19th-century cavalry soldier would need to fight behind enemy lines. Ride an unfamiliar horse, shoot his pistol, sword fight, swim through moats, and run for his life.
But despite it being invented by the Olympics for the Olympics, the IOC announced that modern pentathlon in its current guise could play no further part in any future Olympiad. It was expelling its first-born from the family home unless it promised to change its ways.
And so began a period of reflection for pentathlon’s governing body. But reinvention in sport is a perilous exercise. It pits the seething traditionalist against the promise of an intrigued newcomer. The temptation of the latter is often too much to resist.
It’s why boxing is happy to welcome the influencer circus, and why the nascent Baller League is confident of making a similar mark on football. It’s why the second Ashes Test in Brisbane last week was played with a pink ball under floodlights. It’s why a long jump sandpit turned up in Times Square, and why the NFL now has more kids playing flag football than its shoulder-padded original. It’s why the likes of golf, rugby, and even fencing are desperately devising new leagues and formats.
And so what did modern pentathlon do to rescue their sport from extinction? First, they learnt the lesson of red-faced Blue Peter presenters and decided never again to work with animals. Saint Boy could neigh a sigh of relief, for he and his fellow mounts were no longer under the gainful employment of the Union Internationale de Pentathlon Moderne (UIPM).
For their new fifth discipline, the UIPM wanted a sport that wasn’t already on show at the Olympic Games, discounting anything like cycling or climbing. They wanted it to be global, fun to watch on TV, easy to transport and, crucially, for it to abide by de Coubertin’s original military concept.
And so it was announced that show jumping would be replaced by … obstacle course racing (OCR). Having earned its small-screen stripes on everything from Ninja Warrior to Gladiators, OCR was about to go legit.
It was a move that caused a stink among pentathletes who, let’s not forget, had spent years honing the art of the equine trot. Now they were expected to drop the reins and grab swinging hoops with the giddy abandon of a mischievous chimp.
Former British modern pentathlete Kate Allenby, who won a bronze in 2000, called the change a disaster, saying “it’s not modern pentathlon if it hasn’t got riding in it.” Joe Choong, the British gold medallist in Tokyo, threatened to quit the sport. But Greg Whyte, who claimed silver in 1994, seemed to understand the conundrum. “All sports evolve, and no sport is immune from change in the modern TV era,” he said.
Just a few weeks ago, modern pentathlon’s new look was revealed at its World Championships. After one round of fencing, the athletes headed to an azure-drenched course where eight obstacles lay in waiting, including tilting ladders, swinging globes, ascending bars, and a finishing wall. Fans of Gladiators may be disappointed at the lack of a travelator, but it was notable that many of the athletes who’d protested the changes not only made the start line but tackled the new discipline with aplomb. The best finished in under half a minute.
After thrashing out a 200m freestyle in the pool, a laser run combining speed, stamina, and precision shooting completed the set. Egypt enjoyed a historic double with wins for Moutaz Mohamed in the men’s competition and Farida Khalil in the women’s. Britain took silver in the women’s team event, boding well for Team GB medal hopes at LA 2028.
For a sport that’s been so long overlooked at the Olympic Games, this was a glimpse into how a bold facelift can give modern pentathlon the 21st-century glow-up it so desperately needs to survive. What’s more, de Coubertin would surely have approved of an event that could have been taken straight from an army barracks training day.
And so, a 113-year-old sport lives to fight another day by daring to change, by being unafraid to upset its stakeholders, and by delicately blending tradition with reinvention. Don’t bet against the gladiators of modern pentathlon becoming the sleeper hit in Los Angeles. Contenders, ready!
Among the reads in this month’s newsletter are features about other sports flirting with a new look. Whether it works for good or ill, you can typically guarantee that it’ll be controversial, and therefore interesting. Enjoy the selection.
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In conversation with NPLH Studio
Last November, I was invited on the NPLH Studio podcast to talk about my writing career and also teased my next project. This would be Off-Field Volume #1 of course, and when host Joseph Fordham - a man who knows a thing or two about indie publishing - got his hands on it, he was keen to get me back on.
This gave me the unlikely honour of being the podcast’s first repeat guest in 100 episodes. In it we discuss the making of Off-Field and just what might come next in Volume #2, alongside idle chat about creaky chairs, podcast nightmares, and the lunacy of going to football matches only to watch it behind a phone screen. Give it a listen below, if only for the 10% discount code you’ll enjoy off your next order.*
*(You don’t really need to listen to me witter on for the sake of a discount. The code is NPLH10).
Money lured Anthony Joshua to circus fight but he could really hurt Jake Paul
The Guardian
Boxing operates in a netherworld that appears to have sunk far beyond any fear of judgment, while Paul has always had delusions of grandeur as a novice pro. But even boxing may have to consider its own culpability should Paul be badly hurt and end up in hospital after this fully sanctioned bout with regulation 10oz gloves is held in Miami.
Meet the crew whose job is to keep rally fans from getting themselves killed
Defector
I’m sitting with Klinger in the WRC’s race control room at the Rally de Portugal, which took place in May. Klinger has been here since 6:00 a.m. and won’t leave until 9:00 p.m. or later. He’s doing important work, scanning video feeds of the 337-kilometer course for what he calls “mushrooms.” Before every stage, the WRC sends out a car to move spectators standing in unsafe locations. But some spectators wander back after the safety car is gone, or hide as it goes by, popping up like a mushroom after it passes.
The beautiful stroll: England’s seniors take walking football to world stage
The Guardian
Voices echoed across the pitch, sweat beading on foreheads. One man even earned a red card for grabbing another player’s arm and denying him a goal-scoring opportunity. For a sport defined by restraint, it’s surprisingly full-blooded. This is walking football – one of Britain’s fastest-growing sports – and at an age when many are slowing down, these players are striding towards their prime.
The man who held his breath for 24 minutes
Outside
For 30 minutes before the attempt, Šobat had filled his lungs with bottled pure oxygen. That meant he could go 20 or more minutes on a single breath, a near-magical feat. But it also raised the danger of blacking out, which could set off a deadly chemical chain reaction, toxifying the oxygen and destroying blood vessels, his lungs, or even his brain. Šobat slammed his mouth shut. He assumed the worst. He saw his life flash by in a heartbeat.
Newcastle, PSG, Real Madrid... full kits and a London park
BBC Sport
The real success has been the opportunity the league provides for players to meet fans with a shared identity and belonging. A “common passion” as Newcastle captain King describes it. He was just looking to get back to playing football after the Covid pandemic and stumbled across the Newcastle United Supporters’ Club London as a result, the London Mags as they are also known.
Golf’s best kept secret: Grass League
Culture of Sport
The best shot in golf isn’t the one that flies 350 yards. It’s the wedge that checks and spins back to within tap-in range. That’s where the magic lives, and it’s also where the Grass League is building its entire identity: from 150 yards and in. With its second season underway, the Grass League isn’t trying to imitate the PGA Tour. It’s not a protest movement like LIV either. It’s something different. Something that’s quietly carving out space in golf’s crowded ecosystem, and if the early signals are anything to go by, it’s a model that might just have staying power.
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