Athletics Journalism – Getting behind the Story

By Doug Gillon

Al Salam Aleikum.
Good morning, brother and sister journalists.
It is an honour to be with you here at the XIIth Pan Arab Games, and a privilege to be invited to help with this International Association of Athletics Federations media development project which we hope will assist you to broaden and improve the way in which track and field athletics is covered. And we should thank the IAAF for making this possible, and in particular, organiser Anna Legnani whom we hope will join us shortly.
So, why am I here? My credentials include nearly 44 years as a sports writer, covering some 60 sports in more than 40 countries - 10 Olympics, 10 World Championships, 10 Commonwealth Games, the English-speaking equivalent of the Pan Arab Games which you are here to report.
My paper, The Herald, is the oldest in continuous daily production in the English language.
I have made my share of mistakes - and hopefully have learned from these. But I am honoured to have won a number of Scottish and British awards, including the only time an athletics writer has been Great Britain's specialist writer of the year. I regard that as a triumph for my sport and my paper, rather than a personal one.
I hope this qualifies me to speak to you today. And I should say that I won all of these awards with articles which "Got Behind the Story."
But first, can I ask what media you represent. Show of hands?

? newspapers
? magazine
? radio
? Any TV
? internet/web
Mainly print media. Thank you.

So, what do we mean by: Getting behind the story.

Any journalist knows to ask the Who? Where? When? and What? questions. The answers provide the basic building blocks of any report. But the Why? and How? questions are usually the ones which take you behind the story.
Athletics would be rather a dull sport if it were just about the statistics. So would boxing if it were simply a catalogue of wins, loses, draws, and knock-outs; or football if it were just a record of which team won, the goal-scorers, and the red and yellow cards.
What inspires us about Usain Bolt is not just that he runs fast - it's because of his joy and passion, the fun he so evidently gets out of doing it. It's our interest in the man behind the records, the fact that he is extrovert, relaxed and friendly in a discipline better known for being uptight, aggressive, and sometimes arrogant. So it's the men and women behind the performances' who intrigue us.

 The athletes and their stories are ultimately what make the sport so appealing.

And it is these stories, well told, which will ultimately project athletics to the world, and competitors to a broader public - what we call human interest stories about athletes - which I believe will promote the sport, and grip your readers, far better than athletics stories defined by mere numbers which only tell us how fast, how far, or how high.

Now, it is evident that athletics developed as a sport in a European or Western culture. But there are depictions of running and jumping at the Pyramid of Djoser, at Saqqara, near Cairo. That is the oldest surviving building known to humanity, dating back more than 4600 years. This places the roots of our sport firmly in the Arab world, even if the western one was where the modern version of athletics was revived and was codified.

With modern developments - the revival of the Olympics and the rise of indoor athletics - largely driven by Europe and America, it may seem to you that people like me are being prescriptive and patronising in dictating to your culture how the sport should be written about.

 
The western style tends to acknowledge history and the achievements and heroism of its protagonists. But I would encourage Qatari and other Arab sports journalists to develop an athletics reporting culture and style of their own. One which will use the sport to inspire Arab men women and children, promote the sport to your culture - Hopefully that will be one from which western journalists can learn, and thereby enhance mutual understanding.

Journalism and its technology has changed dramatically since I started nearly 44 years ago, but the key question remains the same: What is a story?

It is often defined as an ordinary thing happening to an extraordinary person. Or an extraordinary thing happening to an ordinary person. So if Sheikh Hamad bin Khalifa Al Thani, the Queen of England, or Usain Bolt had dates for breakfast - that's a story. If you or I had dates for breakfast - no story. Basically, it's simple.

So before you write your athletics report - when you are doing your research - make sure you ask the questions that get to what makes a story.

Those readers who love track and field will probably read your report anyway. The trick is to engage the uncommitted reader.

 You have to make your report interesting for everybody - not just for the readers who already love, follow and understand the sport.

In many cases, you are the eyes and ears of your readers.

But, often your readers will have seen the meeting on TV, listened to it on the radio, or even have been there. So, most of all, you are the person with the finger on the pulse of the meeting, and must bring it to life for everyone on whose behalf you are there.

Your duty is not just to report what has happened but to tell the reader all that is important – the setting, the atmosphere, and drama. Your first job is to tell the news, to inform the reader - the information you got from asking those Who, Where, What questions.

 Then it is to entertain and amuse, and if possible, provoke thought. If you succeed in doing all of that, you wi11 be very good journalists indeed.

You must capture the facts, the result, and put it in context. Analyse it. Say what it means. You must capture the drama, but also the story behind that drama.

And getting behind the story generally comes from the Why? and How? questions.

Today we have the internet, social networking, email, radio, TV. They are all quicker methods of communication than newsprint. So very often readers will have seen or heard, or otherwise have learned electronically, about the event you are reporting.

But you will all be aware that many people, and not just in Africa and Asia, are not privileged to have immediate access to sport news.

I remember interviewing a man called Abdi Bile.

Some of you may remember him. In 1987, he became the first Somalian athlete to win a world title, the 1500m in Rome. The most striking thing was that he covered the final 800 metres in 1 minute 46 seconds.

That's faster than the winning 800m time at the 2004 Pan Arab Games and the 2006 African Championships when Ismail Ahmed Ismail won gold and silver. And though Abubaker Kaki of Sudan won the 800 four years ago in a time of 1:43.90, Mohammed Al-Salhi of Suadi Arabia took the silver in 1:46.64. So 22 years ago, 1:46 for the final 800m of a 1500m race was very quick indeed - exceptional even by today's standards.

But by the time of the World Cup in Barcelona, in 1989, journalists had already reported all that background about Abdi Bile. Our readers knew how he trained in the USA where he studied and that his country was so poor they could not always afford to send him to championships. So poor, indeed, that he once had to fly a pair of his blue training trousers from a pole because nobody had a Somalian national flag. But the blue pants were exactly the right colour, and Abdi Bile flew them proudly on a stick on his lap of honour.

Journalists need a sharp eye and a questioning mind to pick up and ask questions on such details. So we asked why he had a pair of pants on a pole and had already, written all that. Each time, these little revelations had got behind the Abde Bile story.

But I guess you all know what editors are. They are never happy for long. Again they wanted something fresh to say about this man who looked as if he would beat Sebastian Coe, Britain's double Olympic champion. So for my preview I was fortunate enough to sit down with Abdi Bile.

Life, as you will know, can be very uncertain in Somalia. Sometimes, it's simple questions which draw out the answers that make stories: "How many children has your father?"

"14 or 15, I'm not sure," said Abdi Bile. This conveyed the uncertainty of life in his homeland, the reality of child mortality. But it was only a start.

 Abdi Bile was representing Africa in the World Cup. He had been chosen ahead of multi-world record-breaker Said Aouita, Kenya's Olympic champion Peter Rono, and that year's top Kenyan, Joseph Chesire.

 The race between Coe, known to heading for a career in politics, a member of the British establishment or ruling class, and the son of a Somalian herdsman who still went walkabout in the desert to remind himself of his nomadic roots, was what got behind this story.

 Bile told us how his countrymen had first learned about his world victory in 1987. "Nobody saw it on TV back home in Soma1ia - although a few heard it on the radio," he said. "Some people bought a video and showed it in the movie theatres back home. They were still queuing to see it a week and a half later. The guys that bought the tapes made a lot of money.

"They put them on at the end of some very bad movies. People were falling asleep during the films, and waking up for the race."

 To readers in Europe, the fact that many Somali people had to wait nearly two weeks, painted a picture of another world. It fascinated our readers, and told them how difficult life, and communications can be.

Yet many of his countrymen had little appreciation of what Abdi Bile had done. "They understand that this guy can beat everyone in the world," he said, tapping his chest, "but they don't even know what event I do.

"when I say I can run 1-43 for 800m, they say: 'Is that all? I can run for hours.' They see me train, and ask: 'what are you doing that for? you've already won the world title?"

This touches on what Anna Legnani will speak about - your role as journalists in helping create a culture in your countries where athletics is understood. In Somalia 24 years ago that culture clearly did not exist. We should not assume it has changed a lot.

"They get excited if I win an ordinary race." said Abdi Bile. "If I had finished second in the World Championships or the Olympics, it would have meant nothing to them.

But if you win the Arab Championships, then they think you are the best.

"It's not surprising. until a few years ago I had never heard of the Olympics, or track and field. As a boy I walked a lot with my parents in the desert. Here in Europe, you go on vacation to the beach, and play sport in the sun. We go into the desert with the cattle and sheep. Then after three months, we go back again.

"I have been living ln America for nearly 10 years now, but I'm still happy walking in the desert for hours, carrying a sack of rice."

This story told of a vast contrast in lifestyles between Coe and Abdi Bile. Yet importantly, it also showed how a nomadic herdsman could go to an American university and adapt and thrive in an alien culture, and become the best in the world.

My editor loved that - because if you can move people with a story like that, then you have succeeded in getting behind the story.

Abdi Bile beat Coe the next day, incidentally, and did my reputation no harm. It looked as if I at least knew

something about what I was writing about. And even if he had not won, it would still be recalled as an interesting story. That should tell you, incidentally, that a good story about a loser is better than an average story about a winner.

Athletes are people, and it's usually the human being behind the athlete who is interesting.

 Athletes rejoice, they fear, they suffer, emotionally and physically. They bleed, they mourn, like all mortals. Yet they excel at triumphing over these fears, over their injuries. Their humanity and generosity of spirit is often humbling yet up-lifting. So learn to peel away at the outer skin, and get to the juicy fruit inside, the real story.

The biggest endurance story of the last few years has been Kenenisa Bekele. I have been privileged to see all his World Championship and Olympic titles, and most of his world cross-country crowns. You probably know he has won a record 12 individual world cross-country titles.

But in 2005 his fiancé had died in his arms when they were training together in a forest near Addis. She was just 17. Bekele began losing races, and it seemed he might have buried his magic with his fiancée. His motivation, his aura of invincibility had been destroyed, perhaps for ever.

And so we went to the world cross at St Etienne Galmier, in France. A global TV audience of billions had watched Bekele win the Olympic 10,000 metres gold in Athens, yet here he seemed the loneliest man on the planet.

 A a press conference the day before the race, his eyes were unfocussed, and his face seemed carved from stone. "I have to compete for my country and my people, and I will do my best," he said without emotion or enthusiasm.  This race course in the heart of France was clearly the last place on earth he wanted to be.

So it was no surprise the next day that with some 1500m left, Bekele was 50 metres behind Saif Saeed

Shaheen, Qatar's world steeplechase record-holder. The surprise was that somehow, Bekele still beat him.

He wept as he crossed the line: "She is in my heart, " he sobbed. "I did think about Alem, of course, but I did not lose her. She is in my heart."

 Forme, this remains the defining moment of Bekele's career. It was backed up the next day when he completed the double, long and short course titles.

Still unshaven as a mark of mourning, and at just 22, he had matched the record 13 world individual

and team golds by Kenyan legend Paul Tergat. We needed to set this in the context of his grief. We wanted to know how he felt. How had he set aside his sorrow? In European culture these are intrusive questions, even for journalists used to being tough and invasive.

I was writing for my paper, but also for the IAAF. Their magazine article would be read long after the result of the race was known. What I would write would  be the reference point for people studying the history of the sport in years to come. One is aware of a responsibility to report accurately, fairly, and do justice to the athlete.

So I desperately needed a new approach. Getting behind the story is often helped by the competitors' own words. But Bekele spoke little English then. However, we were fortunate that the IAAF had an experienced translator, fluent in Ahmaraic, Beke1e's own tongue.

It's worth ensuring that you have a translator, or that one will be available, if you plan to interview someone who does not speak your language.

The translator, Sabrina, told us that Bekele's younger brother, Tariku, had said: "At one time I doubted if Kenenisa would ever have the heart to run as well again."

 Since her death, Bekele said he had regularly travelled 150 miles to weep alone by his late fiance's graveside in the eastern town of Assela.

 And then he opened his heart: "This double means more than all the others put together. For me this is the greatest, because this year I was in mourning. I spent the other years happy with my friend and lover by my side. I did this with grief and joy trading places in my heart.

"In the past I faced my competitions as two people, with Alem, my friend, by my side, encouraging and supporting me. I feel now, after losing her, as if I am naked and facing these competitions alone. So to have achieved this after such a short time, I truly thank God."

This was profoundly moving. But it not only captured his grief. It also suggested this could be a new beginning: "I was disturbed and anxious, but I feel this competition wi11 improve things further. Joy comes frequently in life, but grief on this level is something that you encounter very rarely.

So to come here and to win after losing Alem, is a very significant victory for me."

This showed man's ability to overcome any odds. Triumph of the human spirit is what athletics is about, and Bekele put it into memorable words: "I praise God for what he gives," said Bekele, "the good and the bad. I accept them both."

And so we felt able to write a report which we hoped did justice to one of the great stories of modern athletics.

There was a postscript. Bekele had found a new love, his actress wife Danawit Gebregziabher. She had just watched him race for the first time, in my home town, in Scotland.

I asked if he could compare that day, when he had won while in mourning, with how he felt now: His

reply was almost poetic, and it moved me to tears: "Then, I felt as if I was walking in the darkness.

Today, I am walking in the light."

Sometimes it takes just one comment like that to get behind the story. And that's why it pays to ask the difficult questions.

Another example of "Getting Behind the Story came when Josiah Thugwane became the first black South African to win Olympic gold, when he won the marathon at Atlanta in 1996.

This fact made it an interesting story in Africa but not so interesting to the rest of the world. It was only when the Press got behind his story that it was realised that here was a man worth giving a big article to everywhere: New York Times, my paper in Glasgow, the Herald Tribune and L’Equipe, the French sports daily, Sydney Morning Herald, the Middle East, Asia - all over the world.

Does anybody here know the story of Thugwane? The more the Press asked questions the bigger the story became. When he was young his parents split up and he was abandoned by his mother. He was sent to his grandmother’s home where he was beaten time and again by a racist. When he could stand no more he escaped to work as toilet cleaner in a South African mine, where he started to run.

He was so good that he qualified for the South African marathon team but, between earning his place and going to Atlanta, he narrowly escaped death when he was flagged down while driving his truck and attacked.

As his assailants stole his van he was shot. The bullet struck his chin and left a two-inch scar. It very nearly killed him.

And now he had won the Olympic marathon.

 Even the Africaner journalists were there asking questions.

 I'm sure you know about apartheid - a reviled philosopy where the whites of South Africa considered themselves better than the blacks and those of mixed race. As a consequence they had been ostracised from world sports and banned from the Olympics. This, as I said, was black South Africa's first Olympic  title.

I asked the Afrikkaners what the headline in their papers would be next morning: "Ons seun" they said - "our son". They had embraced him, which tells you how athletics had just changed the world.

So that is getting behind the story. Sometimes you can even get behind the story by talking to other journalists.

 Thanks to our translators, Noor & Ahmed and Thank you, fellow journalists for the privilege of talking to you today.