The Victoria Pendleton story sums up so much of what this country is all about. A brilliant, talented Olympian cyclist, a role model for young people, intelligent, charismatic and, some would say, a beautiful woman. What is not to be loved about Victoria? Well, nothing really, except one thing: she’s changed sports now and her lack of success in horse racing is being celebrated. How so?
I know next to nothing about horse racing and long may it stay that way. As I have said before, I have never understood a sport where the main participants probably have no idea that they are actually competing and, indeed, the main reason for going racing is to lose money to a bookmaker. (You know it’s true!) But I do get it that winners are celebrated more than losers, except when they are former Olympic cyclists.
I watched nothing of last week’s Cheltenham Festival but I was not unaware that Ms Pendleton was riding a horse in one of the races and it was on the same day as the Main Event, the Cheltenham Gold Cup. So, imagine my lack of surprise when, in the news bulletins, Pendleton’s ride was the big story. And what a story it was: she came fifth. For all I know, this is no mean achievement, learning to ride a horse a year ago and then finishing fifth in a race at one of the premier festivals of the year. But the point is this: she didn’t win.
Today’s F1 race in Australia came and went and no one is enthusiastically celebrating Felipe Massa’s commanding fifth place finish and, following England’s rugby union grand slam yesterday, the emphasis is not on fifth placed France. Funny that.
Much of the media was obsessed with Pendleton’s performance to the exclusion of all else. I have no idea who won the Big Race but it was relegated to the ‘And finally’ section of the news bulletins, which is where Pendleton’s achievement should have been. Hers was a triumph of sorts but – and I cannot say this often enough – she didn’t win.
And surely in the highest echelons of sport, winning is what it should be all about?
