Brian Viner: Why athletes will have one eye on each other

Rangers Athletics Baseball (Copyright 2023 The Associated Press. All rights reserved)

My sports-writing peers will forgive me, I hope, if I divulge a minor trade secret, namely that at most major sporting events a fact sheet is produced by the event's press liaison people and distributed to attending hacks; and that said fact sheet comes in extremely handy when said hacks are too tired, too drunk, too devoid of inspiration or their deadline too tight to file 800 original words.

My sports-writing peers will forgive me, I hope, if I divulge a minor trade secret, namely that at most major sporting events a fact sheet is produced by the event's press liaison people and distributed to attending hacks; and that said fact sheet comes in extremely handy when said hacks are too tired, too drunk, too devoid of inspiration or their deadline too tight to file 800 original words.

So, when you read an article on the eve of Wimbledon fortnight containing the frankly worthless information that 80 tons of strawberries and 750 gallons of Pimm's are likely to be consumed this year, that some 970 racket strings are expected to be broken, that 37 players are left-handed, 16 are Pisceans and nine have had whooping cough in infancy, then you know that the media centre fact sheet has again saved someone's bacon (1,400 rashers of which have been bought to fill 700 rolls).

All of which brings me to the forthcoming XVII Commonwealth Games in Manchester, because it strikes me that you might like to know that over the 25 days there will be 286 medal ceremonies, that 1,400 gold, silver and bronze medals will be needed, not to mention 3,119 flags, 1,011 computers and 600 pagers; that 156 buses will be occupied for 24,017 operating hours; and that in the athletes' village 12,000 meals will be served every day, requiring the purchase of 70,000 litres of milk, 500,000 apples and peaches, 10,000 melons, 11,600 kilogrammes of mushrooms, 10,000kg of pasta, 1,840kg of lettuce, 365kg of raisins,100kg of garlic, and 3.5 million napkins.

Moreover, I have it on unimpeachable fact sheet authority that over 200 housekeeping staff will clean 83,500 rooms, that the beds will be made 120,500 times ("which would equal over 82 years of bed-making for an average family of four"), that 15,000 sets of bed linen, duvets and towels will be laundered each day, and, my absolute favourite, blue riband fact, that the volume of toilet tissue to be used in the village, and again I quote directly from the fact sheet, "will, if rolled out, be 530kms (331 miles). That is equal to the distance from Manchester to Fort William."

The trouble with fact sheets, of course, is that they only tell part of the story. Because what I really want to know is this: does the supply of toilet tissue take into account pre-competition nerves? If Manchester was instead hosting a huge political convention, for example, at which the vast majority of those attending did not have to worry about making a public exhibition of themselves, then would the volume of toilet tissue, if rolled out, equal only the distance from Manchester to Carlisle?

Let me sock you with another fact that is tantalisingly short of elaboration on the Commonwealth Games fact sheet: along with the seven tonnes of ice likely to be required by physiotherapists to treat bruises and sprains, "150,000 condoms will be supplied for athletes' use".

Now, there are around 5,000 athletes taking part in the Games, so the condom supply presupposes that, on average, each of them will have sex 30 times in just over three weeks. Even allowing for an over-zealous purchasing strategy, it seems clear that the organisers are expecting a considerable amount of sexual activity, which begs all kinds of questions.

For instance: will the Commonwealth Games be like Crufts, where, although friskiness between contestants of different breeds is frowned upon, same-breed sex is sometimes not merely encouraged but actually engineered?

Thus, in the same way that a pair of pedigree golden retrievers might be brought together for a quickie in the hope of producing a top-class litter, a national coach with a long-term development strategy might try to steer his cute female pole-vaulter towards a handsome male pole-vaulter from, say, the Canadian team, taking care to ensure: a) that she is not distracted by the charms of the South African middle-distance runner with the twinkly eyes, and b) that she has none of those 150,000 condoms tucked into her Lycra leggings.

I have never previously given much thought to the carnal activity that goes on between athletes on these occasions, but now that I do, I suppose it makes perfect sense that all those young men and women, hyper-fit and hyper-virile, should have eyes not only on a gold medal, but also on each other.

On the other hand, it is my understanding that sex is supposed to sap the energy of sportsmen and women. Ian St John once told me that Bill Shankly used to instruct his Liverpool players to wear boxing gloves in the marital bed the night before a match in order to discourage any unnecessary intimacy. "And if that doesn't work," Shankly would growl, "then send her to her mother's."

b.viner@independent.co.uk