Thigh-slapping and javelin-tinkering for beginners

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By Tuija Helander
     
      A friend of mine who is something of a sports virgin was at his very first athletics competition in the Olympic Stadium last Wednesday.
      Aside from the fact that he enjoyed savouring the common state of euphoric anticipation of the Finnish people during the men's javelin final, he found it particularly interesting to be able to watch the athletes' quirky preparations for their events at close quarters.
      "It seems to me as though it is its very own fascinating world", my friend commented with a sigh as we pondered the significance of the pre-competition rituals.
      Are they superstition or a means of tuning the athlete into the right mood for the race?
     
When I was younger I had all manner of personal superstitious tics and obsessions. Riding my bike to school I would psych myself that if I could only make it to that third telegraph pole up ahead before the red car that was approaching, I'd have no trouble with my morning maths test.
      When a black cat walked across my path, I had to - well, at least after first making sure that there was nobody around to witness the fact - turn and spit in all four directions of the compass.
      I had also been told that stepping on a line on the track was a sign of bad luck.
      I was competing in an indoor event in the Kupittaa Hall in Turku, and while I was warming up I had a tough job hopping around to avoid treading on any lines, until I got fed up with the whole charade and deliberately stepped on one.
      I thought that my performance on the day couldn't hang on anything as silly as this. Since then I've been clear of any superstitious mumbo-jumbo.
     
The first thing I learnt in my "big-time début games" at the Helsinki World Championships in 1983 was that warming up and the rituals that go along with it could not necessarily be done in the same fashion as at home or in little regional athletics meets.
      The biggest lesson gained from this hands-on sports academy experience was that you had to be ready warmed-up almost an hour before going into action, and that you might only get onto the track five or ten minutes before the gun.
      An inexperienced athlete can really lose the plot if he or she has learnt that so and so many minutes before the off you can do this or that, and then along comes a situation where you cannot do this or that when you want to.
      I must admit that I did occasionally get a bit narked that I could not get out into the arena rather earlier, so that I could practice a few hurdles.
      I then told myself that I had cleared the darn things enough times in training, so I'd probably still have the knack now without needing to check.
     
When an athlete sets off for the most important event of his or her season, the body is physically in such perfect trim that getting a result should not really need any big extra tricks.
      The training stiffness should be rested off, and as for the actual performance that is ahead, it has been repeated in practice so many hundreds of times that it really ought to be a seat-of-the-pants affair.
      The biggest task before the off is to tune in the brainwaves onto the correct frequency.
     
This tuning process apparently often involves the ritual slapping of the thighs before going to the blocks.
      One Jamaican sprinter, Aleen Bailey, finds that a little shadow-boxing before coming under starters' orders works for her.
      Some javelin-throwers pluck nervously at the bindings on their instrument, some athletes run their fingers rhythmically through their hair, high-jumper Hestrie Cloete of South Africa closes her eyes, puts her head on one side, and goes through an elaborate dress-rehearsal of her jump with her hands. Since she was the 2003 World Champion, who are we to argue?
      Among the sprinters in particular, there are twitchers and scratchers and starers-down-the-track, and then there are those who repeatedly cross themselves.
     
On Day One of the World Championships this time we got to follow a real artist: shot put gold medallist Adam Nelson has an impressive repertoire of rituals before he steps into the throwing circle.
      I wondered to myself whether he had had a particularly good day after going through this kind of rite and hence he repeats the same show religiously every time.
      However, Nelson reported that he was an intensive competitor, and for him the actions of tearing off his t-shirt, tossing it down roughly, and pacing around on the grass like a caged tiger before going into the ring are his way of working up a head of steam.
      He has noticed that the crowd, too, get off on it, and when the crowd reacts, it puts him onto the right wavelength, too.
     
So there you go. It does seem hard to believe that World Championship medals are won and lost by the power of superstition.
     
Helsingin Sanomat / First published in print 13.8.2005
     
Tuija Helander is a former international hurdler. In 1987 she finished 5th in the 400 metres hurdles at the World Championships in Rome, and the time of 54.62 she set in the final is still the Finnish record for the distance. It would still have earned her sixth place in last week's final in Helsinki. Helander's remarkable story after athletics is also told in the accompanying article.


Previously in HS International Edition:
  A second wind: Tuija Helander runs again (25.5.2004)

Helsingin Sanomat