Sport is not what it used to be. It still excites and
incites the passion of the everyday fan, but it no longer represents the
Corinthian spirit. Amateurism died a long time ago. And whilst athletes are
becoming quicker, stronger and faster, they are also becoming far wealthier.
Athletes have short careers and are more than entitled to make their money in
this time; but the role of the corporation is changing the way athletes behave.
Long gone are the 1970s when athletes were given an extra
few pounds to wear a pair of Adidas trainers. Athletes are now the stars and
ambassadors for multinationals brands. What they do and how they do it makes us
want to be like them, and of course, more importantly, what they wear only
helps them further. However, the burden of corporate sponsorship does not allow
for controversy. Multinationals are like any other company and do not like
reputational issues. Nike no longer wants to be associated with Lance Armstrong
or Oscar Pistorious; and for obvious reasons. Football club boardrooms seat
directors of communications. Huge marketing and PR arms are in place to ensure
nothing taints the brand. To some extent, boring is good.
Politics is reflected in this. At his peak in the early
1990s, Michael Jordan was seen to be a model for all Democrat voters. Yet, the
canny Chicago Bulls guard simply replied to any questions about politics that
“Republicans buy sneakers too.” Political statements, for the sake of corporate
sponsorship, are now rarer and to some extent, not worth the trouble.
The most famous political statement of all was the ‘black
power’ salute of Mexico 1968. In front of a global audience, Tommie Smith and
John Carlos gave a fisted salute whilst accepting their Olympic medals. The
protest was not a black power as initially perceived, but an attempt to
highlight the struggle for equality for black Americans. Symbolic for sport
both now and in 1968, the salute did nothing further than tarnish the two
athletes’ careers from that day onward.
It is hard to believe, but it is now ten years ago, since
the 2003 Cricket World Cup, where two brave Zimbabwean cricketers made a
political gesture that would change their lives forever. Captain Andy Flower
and Henry Olonga, the country’s first black international, both wore black
armbands during the opening game of the competition to highlight what they saw
as “mourning the death of democracy in Zimbabwe”.
Both men released a prepared press statement ahead of the side's first match.
The gesture appears small, but its symbolism was enormous.
Robert Mugabe, the man who had led the country to independence in 1980, had
slowly and stealthily increased his grip on the running of the nation. Although
people often portray Mugabe’s clampdown on opposition from the start of the
millennium as to when he became paranoid, the wily old tyrant had been locking up
and murdering political opponents since he rose to power. It was not until the
country overwhelmingly defeated a referendum that would have enshrined Mugabe
as Zimbabwe’s perpetual leader that he decided to turn on the country’s white
and wealthy minority.
The expropriation of white farm land was certainly accepted
as a hangover from Zimbabwe’s colonial past. The majority of white people were
actually in favour of a redress, yet Mugabe’s henchmen set about the land grab
vengeful and violently. Although seen by the Western media as a racist attack,
it neglected to highlight the black opposition to Mugabe. White farmers, in
most instances, had the means to move to other parts of the world. The black
labourers simply did not.
For Flower and Olonga, this was not a protest drawn on
racial lines. Flower saw that instances of political violence were being
suppressed by the secret police. The tactics used by Mugabe were simply
destroying the fabric of Zimbabwean society. The fact that only two men wore
armbands, one black and one white, showed that Mugabe was dividing a nation,
not just one race.
Both men then went out and played the match as if nothing
happened. The only stark difference being a visible, yet indelible, piece of black
tape around their arms that sent a simple, but clear message. It was a gesture,
yet one that both men knew would have consequences.
As Zimbabwe exited the tournament, both men left the
continent as death threats were issued, both heading for the UK. Flower joining
Essex on the county cricket circuit, whereas Olonga was forced into hiding
following a charge of treason by the Zimbabwean Government. Even ten years on, both
men have yet to set foot into the country since.
Even despite the protest, worse was to come for Zimbabwe: manipulation
of elections, political oppression and a destroyed economy. For millions of
Zimbabweans, remaining in the country was a choice between life and death. Like
the country’s economy, the national cricket team followed the same path, imploding
as politics began to interfere with team selection. In 2004, the once proud and
effective Zimbabwean cricket team withdrew from the ICC.
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Since the decade has passed, both men have continued with
their careers. Flower as the head coach of the English cricket team, whereas
Olonga has become a public speaker and opera singer.
Flower and Olonga were not particularly close and to this
day, they only speak on occasion. Yet at a time when they saw what was
happening to their friends, family and fellow countrymen, they recognised that
they had an opportunity to show what was happening from within the borders. It
was not a publicity stunt, nor a cry for help; it was for them about the right
thing. Only with hindsight did they understand that it would change their lives
forever.
To this day, Mugabe may be creaking, but his grip on power
remains strong. As elections approach in the months to come, it is too early to
guess whether change may emerge. For Flower and Olonga, both exceptional
cricketers, perhaps one day they will be able to return to a Zimbabwe they
loved. Until then, their gesture will remain symbolic.