MOVING

I started writing something last night about the Paralympics.  But I felt tired and went to bed before I'd finished.  The outcome is that today's newspapers have said most of what I wanted to say.  But of course I'll say it anyway; it deserves to be said.

I said earlier that I had changed my mind about the Paralympics and that, far from feeling uncomfortable watching blind football or the 200m for those with cerebral palsy or swimming for those with missing limbs, I am both stunned and captivated.

One often finds oneself listening to disabled persons speak animatedly of their pastimes or intellectual pursuits, or examining handicrafts displayed at a home for those with various disabilities, and one's enthusiasm is unavoidably tempered with a touch of pity or sorrow.  I think I had originally thought of the Paralympics in that way too.  Simon Barnes in The Times got it right when he said that many of us had felt previously that we should watch the Paralympics out of a sense of compassion or duty or support for some liberal social ideal.  But Lord Coe couldn't have been more right when he said at the Opening Ceremony that we should be prepared to be amazed.  And I am amazed that I, and everyone else for that matter, should be so happy.

So I watched Sarah Storey cycle home in the road race, after cycling 64km, a distance way beyond my fit capabilities, and she slowed down to pick up a Union Flag, flying it behind her as she crossed the finishing line and finishing over 7mins ahead of her nearest rival.  Sarah now has 5 golds for swimming and 6 for cycling, plus 7 silvers and three bronzes.  I have no hope of even qualifying for these events (not because I have all my limbs I don't mean, but because I could never equal, nor never have equalled, her achievement).  I watched Jonnie Peacock run the 100m in 10.9 secs with one leg and Richard Whitehead in the 200m with no legs . . . wow!  Just watch this.  You'll probably need to watch it twice.

Did you see that he was in last place at the 100m mark?  Watch it again.  Could I run as fast in my youth as either of these guys?  I doubt it.  Disabled?  Only superficially anyway.  And could I feel sorry for them?  Just look at how fired up and happy they were.  Of course I couldn't feel sorrow in the face of their achievements.  Envious a little maybe.  Who'd have thought that, that I might envy a man with one or both legs missing?

And there are so many other athletes I would wish to mention -  Hannah Cockcroft, who won the wheelchair 200m 2 secs ahead of anyone else; Jessica Long, the US swimmer, who won her first gold in 2004 and now has 12 golds, 3 silvers and a bronze; Ellie Simmonds, winning 2 gold medals at Beijing, aged just 13, and going for her 3rd gold today, after breaking 2 world records already; Danielle Brown and Sophie Christiansen, winning golds despite extraordinary handicaps, yet somehow transforming into totally different people when engaged in their sports; the Iranian men’s Sitting Volleyball team, odds-on favourite for the gold, doing so well because, poignantly, there are so many polio victims to choose from for the team; Esther Vergeer, the Dutch wheelchair tennis player, who hasn't lost a game I think for 7 years (at least she has only lost one in 11 years).  I think I'm in love with Esther BTW; who'd have thought that?  Certainly not Natasha Kaplinsky or Julia Bradbury (who don't know about each other incidentally, so don't say anything).

So, yes, suddenly disability is not a handicap.  But, more importantly, we don't now see it as a handicap.  I was struck by the wheelchair-bound lady interviewed on the radio the other day (I can't remember the context), who said that, when she visited the Olympic Park, no one ignored her, as they usually do, and many people came to talk to her because they thought she might be a Paralympian.  And, in today's Times, Melanie Reid, the famous paralyzed horserider, said that she hadn't wanted to go to the Paralympics because she was embarrassed at what the Paralympic equestrian team could achieve, but found herself surprised at how cool it now seemed to be to be disabled.  She also recounted amusingly the story of her in her wheelchair encountering a lady with a pushchair in a narrow space and finding she had to move out of the way.  No concessions then now to so-called disabled; they might be more able than we used to think.

And this is perhaps the legacy of these extraordinary Games - we now have a completely different view of disability.  I don't know whether it will remain cool to be disabled; I don't know that you will hear many people say (as we have heard many say at the Paralympics) that, if they could start again, they wouldn't want their legs back; nor do I know whether we will revert to ignoring or feeling sorry for those in wheelchairs, but I do know that there has been a step change.  And nowhere is it more apparent than in those countries which previously looked askance at those with disabilities.  It is notable for example how well the Chinese and Russian athletes have done this time (and note Jessica Long and Elisabeth Stone's stories).  I suspect that in Rio the Paralympics will be an even bigger event.

I am feeling particularly proud of myself today.  I have just been to the gym and had my performance measured.  Since I left hospital 6 months ago, I have put back a stone in weight, but, since starting the gym 6 weeks ago, I have remarkably lost an inch and a half round my waist at the same time.  So I won't now need to have a limb amputated to improve either my weight or my performance (or my street cred?).

IN THE EVENT DAZZLED

Mixed feelings about the Opening Ceremony of the Paralympics.  Apparently, 11m people watched it on TV (as well as 80,000 in a packed stadium).  I assume these viewers are all in Britain (in fact, was it screened in the US at all?).  With almost no exception, the media comments today are favourable, enthusiastically positive in fact.  And I suspect few, if any, of the 11m will not have enjoyed the spectacle.  But I have some misgivings.

I suppose it was comprehensible to everyone watching.  The commentary was quite good this time (the commentary at the Olympics Opening Ceremony was left off at Danny Boyle’s request - probably wisely) and it was needed (for me at least, since I found some of it a little obscure),  although at least one of my Multiply friends will have instantly recognised and been delighted by the paean to libraries. 

I also thought one or two pieces of the music a little inaccessible, but I guess every taste had to be catered for.  On the other hand, the music as the athletes came in (including of course ‘Heroes’!), Birdy performing ‘Bird Gerhl (with David Toole’s dancing making this by far the most delightful part of the evening), and of course Ian Dury’s ‘Spasticus Autisticus’ were all great (dare I say ‘inspired’) touches.

But the overall effect, the lighting in other words (oh, and the fireworks), was just fantastic.  The lighting installation was the most expensive part of the Olympics Opening Ceremony, but certainly gave value for money last night.  The Olympics is all so long ago now, but I think last night’s light show was probably better than that on 27 July.  It was brilliant anyway.

The one thing I found unnecessarily uncomfortable though was the giant representation of the Marc Quinn sculpture, ‘Alison Lapper Pregnant’ which appeared at the end.  We all know this work from the fourth plinth and, now we have got over it, have accepted it as a remarkable icon of life with disability.  But presenting it in the middle of the arena with performers dancing around it, made it look a little like a graven image, an idol surrounded by worshippers in some sort of ceremony.  Maybe it’s just me, but I didn’t feel it added anything to the show.  And many spectators may have misunderstood its purpose here.

But the really difficult part for me was the commentary during the athletes’ arrival.  I thought just the right explanatory contribution was made during the performances, but where no explanation was needed, ie the athletes coming in, maybe no commentary was needed either

Commentators have a very difficult job with processions, particularly those that take several hours, like yesterday’s.  When the Olympians came into the arena a month ago, there were endless pointless, yet amazing facts reeled off about the countries represented, as though we hadn’t heard of them before (maybe we hadn’t, but it’s not hard these days to look them up).  They were mostly factoids rather than helpful information, and were delivered in that condescending ‘and did you know, Huw, this is the only country in the world . . .’ style, as though they actually knew the inane facts themselves and didn’t have in front of them the product of a team of equally inane researchers.  Something of this was evident this time too with particular comments on those countries with large numbers of disabled athletes through wars – factual, but perhaps unnecessarily political and downbeat on this occasion. 

The commentators were also singling out individual athletes of note this time, a really helpful approach to the rather tedious entry procession; it’s always useful at periodic international events to know who are the stars or the domestic stars or even the up and coming stars.  But I’m not sure we needed (and probably the athlete concerned would have been happy if they’d been omitted) the story of the athlete’s disability too.  I’m not shirking from knowing or pretending that the disability doesn’t exist, but we do know these athletes are disabled.  Maybe a better approach, than going emotionally through the difficulties they have faced in competing (in living even), would just be to describe in awe their prowess on the track or in the pool.  Again, maybe it’s just me, but I felt the miserable commentary didn’t quite square with the athletes’ jubilant entry into the stadium.

This is a problem though.  I have watched the first day of the Games today and marvelled at the skill of the Chinese swimmer without arms who won the gold, despite racing against swimmers with arms; and at the blind judo practitioners; and I cheered out loud at the men swimmers and the women cyclists.  But apart from initially noting the obvious disability, the competition quickly became the key focus of my attention.  There was a moment, seeing certain athletes, when I wondered what disabilities had made them eligible for the Paralympics, because none were obvious.  So clearly some sort of explanation can be needed.  But, here, the classification standard at the start of each event is the most important information.  And maybe that’s all we need.  But commentators probably have a fact sheet in front of them about each athlete and it must be tempting to read out the especially poignant stories.

I see there has already been a request for commentators to cut down on the number of ‘brave’s and ‘inspirational’s they use.  This is the same point really.  I enjoyed the events I have watched so far, but not once did I feel, nor want to feel, sorry for the athletes.  There is a danger, as I hinted in my last post on the subject, that we see them as disabled persons trying to overcome their disabilities, rather than as performers.  And I didn’t feel that at all today.  If I want to know how anyone became disabled for any reason, I’ll Google them.  Of course, in competing, they may not be brave exactly (although I guess they were when they had to begin to overcome their disability), but they are certainly inspirational.  Lord Coe said, "Prepare to be inspired, prepare to be dazzled, prepare to be moved."  I guess he had to say that, and it’s a good speech line, but ‘dazzled’ was perhaps enough.

Anyway, there we are – we’re off!  And we have won some medals already!!  I’m dazzled.

ENABLED

I confess I have changed my mind about the Paralympics.  There has been much in the news in the last few days about the preparations for the Games.  We are daily besieged with stories about the athletes - the extraordinary story of 7/7 victim, Martine Wright; the unlucky tale of fall victim, Tom Aggar; the heart-wrenching account of birth deformity victim, Lee Pearson.  All my emotions have been attacked, and successfully at that; I am amazed at how these paralympians have not sat back and accepted their fate, have not hidden themselves away in misery and self-pity, at what they have  achieved.  But I never got much further than that.

I haven't exactly felt sorry for their disabilities; they have made sure of that by their heroic success in their sports.  Yet somehow there has been the niggling feeling that that these might not be real sports.  I wondered whether adapting able-bodied sports, so that others can take part, actually made them a separate and real sport.  And I wasn't sure whether watching disabled persons trying to run or jump or hold a racquet was somehow prurient or voyeuristic.  Could I be bothered to watch something that wasn't really the Olympics?  Would I feel enthusiasm and not just pity for the paralympians?  Would I be able to pay attention to the competition at all?  What emotions would I involuntarily display whilst watching a blind football match?  Could I in fact actually enjoy seeing all these victims of events on my TV screen?

I confess I have changed my mind about the Paralympics.  There has been much in the news in the last few days about the preparations for the Games.  We are daily besieged with stories about the athletes - the extraordinary story of 7/7 victim, Martine Wright; the unlucky tale of fall victim, Tom Aggar; the heart-wrenching account of birth deformity victim, Lee Pearson.  All my emotions have been attacked, and successfully at that; I am amazed at how these paralympians have not sat back and accepted their fate, have not hidden themselves away in misery and self-pity, at what they have  achieved.  But I never got much further than that.

I haven't exactly felt sorry for their disabilities; they have made sure of that by their heroic success in their sports.  Yet somehow there has been the niggling feeling that that these might not be real sports.  I wondered whether adapting able-bodied sports, so that others can take part, actually made them a separate and real sport.  And I wasn't sure whether watching disabled persons trying to run or jump or hold a racquet was somehow prurient or voyeuristic.  Could I be bothered to watch something that wasn't really the Olympics?  Would I feel enthusiasm and not just pity for the paralympians?  Would I be able to pay attention to the competition at all?  What emotions would I involuntarily display whilst watching a blind football match?  Could I in fact actually enjoy seeing all these victims of events on my TV screen?

Well, my first mistake was to call them victims.  I suppose it is just too difficult to imagine what one would do in circumstances similar to these athletes.  The world is now geared to supporting the disabled, although not always as well as we like to think it is - former paralympian, Tanni Grey-Thompson, tells the story of arriving at her home station late at night and finding that the staff to help her from the train had gone home.  But, on the whole, out attitudes have changed immensely since the days when the disabled were shut away at home or in institutions.  And I am so proud that the paralympic movement (which began in Britain) has changed others' perceptions too; China for example has moved dramatically from a sense of shame at disability to one of pride in their athletes.

But the key point is that the athletes themselves are far more aware of their disadvatages in life than I am.  They have made it clear in interview after interview that they understand all my doubts and accept that my emotions will be mixed.  But they themselves are as fired up as any Olympic athlete and, if you thought Olympians were competitive, boy, you should see an athlete with a disability compete!  Here for example is the link to the Channel 4 Paralympic programme promotion:  http://youtu.be/kKTamH__xuQ.  They see their challenges and achievements no differently from Olympic athletes.  And what's more they want me to see them that way too.  So I shall.

The Opening ceremony is tonight and I am looking forward to it as much as I was the Olympic Opening Ceremony.  I shall try to see the athletes just as competitiors.  But I certainly won't be able to forget that they are not human beings in the prime of their lives.  They are simply superhuman beings.  Go Team GB!!

I think I've been enabled.