Polley http://palgrave.typepad.com/polley/ en-GB 2010-04-30T13:48:53+01:00 Thanks and goodbye... for now http://palgrave.typepad.com/polley/2010/04/thanks-and-goodbye-for-now.html Due to a change in my personal circumstances, I’m going to have to give this blog up. It’s been an interesting and rewarding process, but new challenges mean that I have got to concentrate on other things. I will be... Due to a change in my personal circumstances, I’m going to have to give this blog up. It’s been an interesting and rewarding process, but new challenges mean that I have got to concentrate on other things. I will be launching a new and different kind of blog later this year, and as soon as it’s live I’ll put a link on this site.

Thanks for your interest and support over the last few years.

]]> Martin Polley 2010-04-30T13:48:53+01:00 The Birthplace of the Winter Olympics: the French Alps or Knightsbridge? http://palgrave.typepad.com/polley/2010/02/the-birthplace-of-the-winter-olympics-the-french-alps-or-knightsbridge.html Over the last week, like many British people, I’ve become something of an armchair expert on moguls, rollers, power plays, brooms and stones, sliders, and Salchows. Despite Vancouver’s time being pretty inconvenient for British viewers, the Winter Olympic Games have... Over the last week, like many British people, I’ve become something of an armchair expert on moguls, rollers, power plays, brooms and stones, sliders, and Salchows. Despite Vancouver’s time being pretty inconvenient for British viewers, the Winter Olympic Games have had their usual captivating effect on us. This has certainly been helped by Amy Williams in the bob skeleton, who made history by becoming the UK’s first solo gold medallist at the Winter Olympic Games since Robin Cousins in the figure skating at Lake Placid in 1980.

When it comes to the bigger pictures of history, the International Olympic Committee trace the Winter Olympic Games back to Chamonix in 1924. This, according to the official version, is when the Winter programme began. It’s an easy version of history to accept, but under closer examination, Chamonix 1924 turns out to be another of the many creation myths that underpin so much of sport’s traditions.

The first problem is that the Chamonix Games themselves were not, when they were staged in January and February 1924, officially billed as Olympic Games. They were held under the patronage of the IOC, and were linked to that Summer’s Paris Olympics, but they were never formally called Winter Olympics at the time. The official report refers to them as ‘les Sports d’Hiver’ (the Winter sports) and ‘les Jeux d’Hiver’ (the Winter Games), but not the Winter Olympics. As late as 1928, the IOC’s founder Pierre de Coubertin claimed that ‘the 1924 Winter Sports Week held at Chamonix on the occasion of the Eighth Olympiad was not part of the program’. The IOC’s recognition of these sports as he first of a new series came later.

Quite apart from the problem of retrospective naming, we have the fact that the London Olympic Games of 1908 included a winter programme. This was an integral part of the Games of the Fourth Olympiad. The Winter events were held in October, the main programme having finished in July. These first Winter Olympics didn’t look quite like what is happening in Vancouver and Whistler just now. They consisted of four team games that were typically played in the winter in the UK: football, won by Great Britain; field hockey, won by Great Britain in the official version but by England when we go back to the primary sources; lacrosse, won by Canada in a two-team event against – you guessed it, Great Britain; and rugby union, another two-team event in which Australia beat the Cornish county team that had to go under the name of Great Britain. All of these events took place at the Olympic Stadium in Shepherd’s Bush. What makes London 1908 stand out as the real originator of the Winter Olympics was the figure skating competition, held at Prince’s Skating Club in Knightsbridge. Fourteen men – including Ulrich Salchow himself – and 7 women competed in individual and pairs events. Here was something recognisable as a winter sport, taking place in the heart of London.

The Winter Olympics: another sporting event with an apparent moment of creation that, when examined, was nothing of the sort. Should the fact that they were actually created in London give the British a claim on superiority? Let’s see if Amy Williams’ triumph in the bob this year is the sign that history will soon be reclaimed.

]]> Martin Polley 2010-02-25T01:44:59+00:00 Winter Landscape with Sledgers and Tea Trays http://palgrave.typepad.com/polley/2010/01/winter-landscape-with-sledgers-and-tea-trays.html Earlier this month, southern England was hit by heavy snowfalls. People from other parts of the word where deep snow is a permanent feature in winter must laugh at our inability to cope, as schools, shops, and businesses closed in... Earlier this month, southern England was hit by heavy snowfalls. People from other parts of the word where deep snow is a permanent feature in winter must laugh at our inability to cope, as schools, shops, and businesses closed in the face of a few inches of the white stuff. The children loved it, of course, and we made our annual sledging trip to St Catherine’s Hill. The hill, just outside Winchester, has a place in the history of football, as it was here that Winchester College’s unique version of the game claims its origins. When the snow, comes, though, no-one cares about that, as the slopes are taken over by hundreds of people sledging. With the schools closed, children and their parents were out in force, augmented by students from the University and the Art School who were happy to take the afternoon off. It had a genuine community feeling of a town at play. The sledges on display ranged from proper purpose-built ones, many of them bought in a hurry from the city’s only sport shop that managed to open, through to homemade efforts and improvised craft: fertiliser sacks, laundry baskets, and tea trays that looked as though they may have been borrowed from the Art School’s canteen all did service.

The afternoon struck me as deeply torn in time. On the one hand, this kind of play depended on all sorts of features of modern life, from the mass produced sledges in durable plastics through to the comfortable clothes that kept us all warm. In other ways, it was almost pre-industrial. The time discipline of the normal school and office day was overturned, and we were out as a community, playing in natural spaces rather than stadiums or playgrounds, and the play was made possible only by the weather. The fact that many people improvised their sledges – the tea trays and fertiliser sacks – only added to this feeling I had of this being an old way of playing.

It reminded me strongly of a painting by Pieter Bruegel the Elder that I use in my sports history classes. Winter Landscape with Skaters and Bird Trap, painted in 1565 and now in the Musées Royaux des Beaux-Arts, Brussels, shows a snowy scene in which the townspeople have taken to the frozen river to play. Some skate, others play on sledges, some play a games that looks a lot like curling, while the group in the bottom left-hand corner seem to playing golf on the ice. Leaving aside any allegorical meanings the painting has, it is a wonderful representation of spontaneous play using improvised equipment, found spaces, and the weather. It’s too easy to think of our ways of playing as purely modern, and it’s useful every now and then to sit back and recognise some ways of playing that transcend time and culture.

]]> Martin Polley 2010-01-31T23:54:54+00:00 1950 And All That http://palgrave.typepad.com/polley/2009/12/1950-and-all-that.html Last Friday evening was our eldest son’s school ‘s Christmas fair. Like many people there, I was keeping half an eye on the mince pies, the tombola, and the craft stalls, and half an eye on my phone, checking for... Last Friday evening was our eldest son’s school ‘s Christmas fair. Like many people there, I was keeping half an eye on the mince pies, the tombola, and the craft stalls, and half an eye on my phone, checking for texts from my brother who was watching the draw for the 2010 World Cup. When the news came through that England had landed with Algeria, Slovenia, and the USA for the group stage, I wasn’t the only one celebrating and passing the news on to others. The Sun caught the mood with a neat acrostic headline the next morning: 'EASY', standing for England, Algeria, Slovenia, Yanks. The script is, apparently, written. England will stroll through this group and then head all the way to the final. Some bookies have already made England second favourites to win the Cup, tabloid journalists are getting their historical clichés ready for the possible second round match with Germany, and even England’s manager, Fabio Capello, went from ‘It’s not so bad’ to ‘We have to win’ in the space of a single interview.

Two themes run through these simplistic readings of the situation that are of interest to the historian. The first is that the press, and many England fans, seem to have fallen back into an almost colonial contempt for Algeria, Slovenia, and the USA. There is a real belief that the three opponents are new footballing nations, and that they will be so in awe of England’s traditions that they will curl up and be beaten. Some of the media language reminded me of ideas that were current as far back as the 1908 Olympic Games, when journalists, administrators, and politicians simply assumed that England led the world in sport, and that the natural order of things was for the English to win and the foreigners to be grateful at being taught a lesson. The fact that England have played Slovenia only once (a 2-1 victory earlier this year) and have yet to meet Algeria adds to this sense of novelty. Forget the fact that England were relatively ordinary against Slovenia and won by only one goal; and forget the fact that Algeria have beaten both Uruguay and reigning African champions Egypt this year: England’s group matches are, according to the popular press, going to see a restoration of historical supremacy.

The second theme is, of course, the troubling matter of 1950. England have played the USA nine times, winning seven and losing two, but it’s the first of those games that historians are going to be recalling. In June 1950, England travelled to Brazil to take part in their first World Cup, having studiously ignored FIFA’s competition in 1930, 1934, and 1938. They beat Chile 2-0 in their opening group match, before meeting the USA at Belo Horizonte on 29 June. With such stellar names as Alf Ramsey, Billy Wright, Wilf Mannion, Tom Finney, and Stan Mortensen on the pitch, and a squad that included Stanley Matthews and Jackie Milburn, this really was a match that England couldn’t possibly lose. Joe Gaetjens, the USA’s Haitian-born forward, thought otherwise, and it was his goal that settled the match. Defeat against Spain a few days later sent England home. Forget England beating the USA 6-3 in 1953, 8-1 in 1959, 10-0 in 1964, and 5-0 in 1985: it will be the ghost of 1950 that the media and the fans will have to look out for in South Africa next year.

]]> Martin Polley 2009-12-08T00:56:19+00:00 Mapping the Past http://palgrave.typepad.com/polley/2009/10/mapping-the-past.html Back in the early 1990s, I worked at the Foreign & Commonwealth Office as a historical research assistant. The department I worked in was responsible for publishing books of primary documents about different aspects of British overseas policy, and our... Back in the early 1990s, I worked at the Foreign & Commonwealth Office as a historical research assistant. The department I worked in was responsible for publishing books of primary documents about different aspects of British overseas policy, and our time was spent reading thousands of documents and selecting the key papers that told the story. It was a great experience that helped me to get a feel for weighing up evidence and sifting out the gems from the dross. That experience, combined with my own immersion in the archives for my PhD on the British government’s involvement in sport, confirmed me as something of a primary source addict.

Over the years since then, in line with the refreshing growth of what’s known as ‘the visual turn’ in historical research, I’ve increasingly used visual evidence as well as more traditional written documents. This is great in teaching, where paintings, engravings, photographs, and film can encapsulate themes for students in a very accessible way. The book I’m writing at the moment – a study of the history and heritage of the Olympic Games for English Heritage – is heavily visual, with archive pictures and new photographs featuring throughout. And it’s through this work that I’ve rediscovered my love of historical maps.

I think I became sold on the fundamental need for historians to study maps soon after I started teaching. A student in my modern European history class claimed that Hitler invaded France in 1940 because without that conquest, Germany had no access to the sea. Even the most cursory glance at a map of Europe would have corrected this claim. In my sports history research, which is becoming increasingly concentrated on local events, looking at historical maps of the places I’m studying is a basic method. Allowing for the developments in mapping technology over the centuries, and appreciating that maps are subjective accounts of landscape and townscape – someone chooses which buildings to label and which to leave blank, for example – there is nothing else that can give us knowledge on distances and relationships between sporting sites and the rest of the community.

This week, I’ve been taken back to my primary source addiction by the acquisition of a map. My Olympic book will include a chapter on the 1948 London Games, which were based at Wembley but had other events spread across the capital, and I’ve managed to get hold of an original copy of the map that London Transport issued for overseas visitors to the Olympics. It’s a wonderful period piece, giving us a snapshot of Wembley as it was then, with the Stadium and the Empire Pool marked out for the Olympic events, along with its Methodist and Roman Catholic churches, its Regal Cinema and the Greyhound pub, and its bus, tram, and train connections. Alongside the central map, we have public transport directions to all of the other Olympic locations, ranging from Finchley Lido in the north to Selhurst Park in the south, and from Brentford in the west to Ilford in the east, both homes to Olympic football matches. On the reverse, we have a central London underground map, along with the essential information that overseas visitors in 1948 needed: addresses of embassies and consulates, tourist information on such places as Buckingham Palace, Kew Gardens, and London Zoo, and directions to London’s cathedrals. The whole document, from its naively unbranded Olympic rings to the 6d admission price to see the Crown Jewels, is an evocative way in to the mood of the 1948 Olympic Games. Although it is only sixty years old, it feels aeons away from contemporary Olympic materials. It’s a great reminder that, however objective the information on a map, it will always be relative to the time and circumstances of its creation.

]]> Martin Polley 2009-10-31T14:48:22+00:00 Modern Girls and Modern Boys: Gregory’s Girl revisited http://palgrave.typepad.com/polley/2009/09/modern-girls-and-modern-boys-gregorys-girl-revisited.html The BBC has recently been showing a season of programmes about Scotland. Alongside some great documentaries, they’ve shown Gregory’s Girl, Bill Forsyth’s 1981 feature film about secondary school children in Cumbernauld, a Scottish new town. Although the film is all... The BBC has recently been showing a season of programmes about Scotland. Alongside some great documentaries, they’ve shown Gregory’s Girl, Bill Forsyth’s 1981 feature film about secondary school children in Cumbernauld, a Scottish new town. Although the film is all about growing up, it has an important place in sports history because one of its central themes is about Dorothy, on of the girls at the school, wanting to play football for the school team. As the only girl playing the game, this gives rise to a lot of the film’s comedy, from the moment the stereotypical male PE teacher realises that she is by far the best player in the school, through the headmaster’s concerns about her bringing her own soap for the showers, and to the opposing players lining up to kiss her after she scores a goal against them. Her displacement of a boy from the team, and the affect her presence has on all those raging hormones, forms one of the key themes in the film: the uncertainties and confusion of teenage years.

When I first saw Gregory’s Girl at the cinema in 1981 – as part of a memorable double bill with Chariots of Fire – it was clearly a contemporary movie, particularly when juxtaposed against the recreated 1920s of Chariots. Although I was living in suburban west London, there was enough that was recognisable – not least the teenage kicks and the teenage confusion. A few years later, when I first studied feature films as historical sources on my undergraduate degree, a movie like Gregory’s Girl would not have crossed my mind. We were concerned with historical classics like Battleship Potemkin, or with feature films about historical events, such as Zulu or Gandhi. Gregory’s Girl resurfaced for me when I started researching sport, providing light relief and lots of cringes of recognition when I watched it for what it told me about sport’s social side alongside Raging Bull, Chariots of Fire, and – surely the best bad movie ever made about sport – Escape to Victory.

Watching Gregory’s Girl now, nearly thirty years on, it has acquired a certain patina. It has become a historical source with all sorts of interesting angles. First off, it tells us about a time when girls wanting to play football were rare, rare enough to be of comic value. Women’s football has come on hugely since 1981. Dorothy wouldn’t make sense now, at a time when girls have the chance to play football from primary school onwards, and when the women’s FA Cup final is televised live. Of course the women’s game is still seen as marginal to the men’s, and we all know that inequalities exist at every level, from players' wages to changing facilities a small clubs: but things have moved on an awful lot from the days of the film, where the boy dropped from the team to make way for Dorothy complains that women weren’t meant to play football: ‘It’s too tough, too physical’. I like to think we live in a relatively more enlightened age, and that Gregory’s description of how Dorothy’s presence in the team is a positive sign – ‘modern girls, modern boys’ – was prescient.

Gregory’s Girl is also interesting for the other cultural examinations of sport and gender that it has inspired. The Manageress, the BBC’s drama series from the early 1990s in which Cherie Lunghi played a tactically-savvy woman who takes over as manager of a professional club; Bend It Like Beckham, Gurinder Chadha’s 2001 movie which shifts the contestation from one of gender to one of culture by exploring a British Asian girl’s experience of playing football: these and many others owe a debt to Gregory’s Girl, and there is a great project waiting to happen on the portrayal of women’s football in film and drama.

The other striking historical aspect is the film’s location. Filmed in the new town of Cumbernauld, the film paints a generally positive picture of new town life, free from industrial grime, and with a country park, pleasant housing, modern shops, and no crime to worry about. Cumbernauld now still boats many of these features, and has above average income, but the new town experiment that Gregory’s Girl celebrated – another part of its modernist agenda – has lost much of its stock. The town’s underpasses suffer from graffiti, like anywhere else, and its architecture has lost much of its appeal – so much so that in 2005 the town centre was voted ‘the worst building in Britain’ for Channel 4’s Demolition programme. Gregory’s Girl captures the time before that, when there was an optimism in the new town experiment.

Feature films don’t need to be true, but that doesn’t invalidate them as primary sources for historians. Study them for what they tell you about sport and the society it was played in, and always connect between the action and the context.

]]> Film Sports Martin Polley 2009-09-29T16:24:40+01:00 An Olympian day out http://palgrave.typepad.com/polley/2009/08/im-currently-researching-and-writing-a-book-on-the-history-and-heritage-of-the-olympic-games-in-britian-and-this-is-taking.html I'm currently researching and writing a book on the history and heritage of the Olympic Games in Britian, and this is taking me into the pre-de Coubertin events that called themselves 'Olympic', 'Olympick', and 'Olympian'. It's misguided to think that... I'm currently researching and writing a book on the history and heritage of the Olympic Games in Britian, and this is taking me into the pre-de Coubertin events that called themselves 'Olympic', 'Olympick', and 'Olympian'. It's misguided to think that the Olympic Games went from their classical Greek dissolution straight to de Coubertin's revival without anything in between, and a lot of those in between events took place in Britain. A couple of important ones are still going on: Robert Dover's Olympick Games at Chipping Campden in the Cotswolds; and the Much Wenlock Olympian Games in Shropshire. I've been to both this year: nothing beats visiting a living event with deep historical roots to get a sense of the event's history and identity.

The Much Wenlock Olympian Games were held in late July, and rather than just visit and watch this year, I grabbed my chance to take part in a piece of history. The 7 -mile open road race was my chance to compete. I used to run a lot, including half marathons and twenty milers, so the distance should not have been a problem. But I haven't raced for ten years, and I only managed to train over 6 miles, so I was aiming to just get round. It went well enough. I started nice and steadily alongside the 100-odd other runners, but got a nasty cramp in my calf after only two miles, and so managed a semi-run, semi-hobble for the rest of the hilly course. My time of 62 minutes was not particularly respectable in my personal history, but I like to see it as a new chapter and look forward to a bit more racing now.

The Games themselves were full of history this year. It's the bicentenary of the birth of William Penny Brookes, the man who started these games in 1850 and who was such a big influence on de Coubertin. All competitors in all events got a commemorative medal to mark this milestone - the closest to any kind of Olympic/Olympian silverware I'm ever going to come, and a nice artefact of my own to balance the historical medals and trophies that are such important relics of the early Games. In addition, the Games are now fully recognised by the Olympic movement, and this year's guests included Olympic medalists Anne Packer, Robbie Brightwell, and Tommy Godwin. The diversification of the Olympics was also represented by the torch relay for the Special Olympics, which are being held in Leicester this year.

The great thing about Much Wenlock is that it doesn't attempt to be a reenactment of the Victorian original. It's not a kind of sporting equivalent to a Sealed Knot battle. It's a real modern sporting event, with a serious take-up from athletics clubs all over the Midlands. The history and heritage that are there are deeply embedded, but the games are also about now. It is a perfect blend of history and modernity, and it was a pleasure to get out of the archives and live the moment.

]]> Sports Martin Polley 2009-08-21T01:07:15+01:00 That Championship Season http://palgrave.typepad.com/polley/2009/06/that-championship-season.html Two years ago I wrote a rather miserable blog about supporting a football team that was facing relegation. Dear old Brentford duly went down that year, and have played in the bottom division – Rebranded League Two, Division Four, whatever... Two years ago I wrote a rather miserable blog about supporting a football team that was facing relegation. Dear old Brentford duly went down that year, and have played in the bottom division – Rebranded League Two, Division Four, whatever – for two seasons. These years saw matches against teams we had never played before, like Dagenham and Redbridge, as well as reunions with some old regulars also fallen on hard times, like Luton, Northampton, and Grimsby.

Those two years saw a major revival, though, and in a season that saw other teams – Luton, Bournemouth, Rotherham, and Darlington – burdened with points deductions for financial mistakes, some of the usual pressure was removed. From facing relegation from the League back at Christmas 2007, Brentford exceeded expectations and won the League with room to spare this year. They certainly exceeded the bookies’ expectations: my £5 each way at 16/1 before the season started certainly felt like a good investment after the final whistle at Darlington, my only regret being that I hadn’t risked a little more.

Supporting a lowly team like Brentford always means that the highs, when they come, are extremely high. In my 30-odd years of supporting them, whoever has to keep the honours board up-to-date has not exactly been inundated with work: the real Third Division title in 1991-92, the rebranded Third Division title in 1998-99, and … er, that’s it. Sure, this is better than the experiences of many teams, but it’s not the kind of thing that would keep a supporter of one of the currently natural Premiership teams happy. I try not to fall into the cliché of attributing too many life lessons to what we do in sport, but I’m sure that following a small team is healthier than following a big one: expecting success and assuming that failure can’t happen has never struck me as very helpful way of behaving, as witness this season’s wails from Newcastle that their club is too good to be relegated from the Premiership. And Brentford’s fixture list for next season is littered with some of those recently big teams – Leeds United, Nottingham Forest, Southampton, Norwich City, and Charlton among them – for whom these days must still feel like slumming it. Indeed, the fickle nature of the game was underlined by our opponents in that last match: Luton Town, Wembley regulars in the 1980s, slipped quietly out of the League while Brentford celebrated.

The last game this year was comfortable, as we had already secured the title the week before. There was a line-up with fireworks before kick-off, although 3.00 pm on a May Saturday isn’t the most effective time to light up the sky. After the game, despite the MC’s heartfelt protests, there was a huge pitch invasion, and the awarding of the trophy, complete with a podium on the pitch and Queen’s ‘We Are The Champions’ echoing predictably round the ground. As well as enjoying the moment, the celebrations sparked memories of other promotions: hugging Herman Hreidarsson after we secured promotion in 1999; going to Peterborough with low expectations in 1992 and coming home with a huge grin after a handshake with that year’s hero, Dean Holdsworth – I asked him not to leave the club but he didn’t listen; and drinking my first beer after winning promotion in 1978 (I hope there’s a statute of limitations on this as I was only 13, but I only had a few sips – honest). My brother somehow blagged his way into the dressing room that day and came home with striker Andy McCulloch’s shirt. Memories like this – the kind that never usually get written down – are part of the tradition that lies at the heart of all sports fandom. These key moments form the high points in the narrative of our relationships with our clubs.

]]> Martin Polley 2009-06-29T23:28:21+01:00 In The News http://palgrave.typepad.com/polley/2009/04/in-the-news.html I’ve always loved using newspapers for primary research. It’s true that some sports historians over-rely on them, and ignore other types of evidence. It’s also true that we sometimes don’t make as much effort to find out about a historical...
I’ve always loved using newspapers for primary research. It’s true that some sports historians over-rely on them, and ignore other types of evidence. It’s also true that we sometimes don’t make as much effort to find out about a historical paper’s affiliations – political and economic – as we do with contemporary papers. This is particularly true of the local press, where we are often just so glad to have some evidence that we sometimes forget to ask some basic contextual questions. However, there’s no denying the allure of fading newsprint and their stories of old sport.

My research has been taking me into old papers a lot recently. I’m working on a history of the Olympic Games in Britain, and of the various events that were called ‘Olympic’ – or variants such as Olympian and Olympick – that took place before the International Olympic Committee established itself in 1894. Newspapers are crucial here, especially local newspapers for the various places that hosted these events, such as Liverpool, Much Wenlock, and Morpeth. While some papers are now available online in full texts pdfs back to the late eighteenth century, many remain accessible only in hard copy or microfilm in local libraries or at Colindale in the British Library’s Newspaper Library.

I spent quite a bit of time at Colindale when I was doing my PhD in the late 1980s, and going back there recently was a real pleasure. The place has hardly changed: institutional art deco architecture, airless and lightless microfilm rooms that leave me feeling like a nocturnal creature, and 1930s reading desks with their frames for holding the bound volumes. The real joy is in handling the newspapers in hard copy, not on microfilm, and turning the pages much as the original audiences would have done. The local slants on sporting events are always good value: the Hampshire newspaper that reported on the 1948 Olympic torch relay with a focus on a runner from Eastleigh, for example, or the Northumberland newspaper of the same year that compares – favourably, it must be said – the attendance at the wrestling at the Morpeth Olympic Games with the crowds in London for same sport in the Olympic Games. The heartbreaking way in which the pages flake in every reader’s hands as they are turned convinces us all that digitisation is the answer, but something will be lost when the switch happens and Colindale closes.

I’ve been using newspapers in teaching this week, too, and it’s been good to see students getting used to the conventions of the press from the last two centuries. They were particularly struck by the way in which more attention was paid in late eighteenth century cricket reports to gambling than to who the players were, and by the huge sums of money involved – like the 1000 guineas in a 1799 match between Surrey and eleven of England. They were overwhelmed by the sheer volume of detail in late Victorian local newspapers, with their news of athletics and swimming clubs’ annual events running into columns of close-set broadsheet pages. And they were drawn – as so many sports historians are – to looking at the football scores and league tables to laugh at how the mighty have fallen or how the minnows have arisen. A 1989 newspaper, for example, which showed Chelsea in the Second Division, and Norwich and Millwall in the top five of the League, seemed almost as unbelievable as the eighteenth century cricketers with more money than sense. Elvis Costello may have claimed that ‘yesterday’s news is tomorrow’s fish and chip paper’: but it was a great feeling to pass on a critical respect for the press as a primary source to the next generation.

]]> Martin Polley 2009-04-27T01:06:45+01:00 From the billboard to the gallery wall http://palgrave.typepad.com/polley/2009/03/from-the-billboard-to-the-gallery-wall.html Last week, I went to Southampton City Art Gallery for opening of A Century of Olympic Posters, the Victoria and Albert Museum’s touring exhibition. I caught it last year at the Museum of Childhood in Bethnal Green, since when it... Last week, I went to Southampton City Art Gallery for opening of A Century of Olympic Posters, the Victoria and Albert Museum’s touring exhibition. I caught it last year at the Museum of Childhood in Bethnal Green, since when it has been Ironbridge in Shropshire, close to the historical home of the modern Olympic Games at Much Wenlock, and to Beijing. The preview evening was well-presented, with the organisers clearly recognising the opportunity for art/sport crossovers that such exhibitions can foster: as well as being able to see the exhibition, we were entertained by displays by local boxing and trampolining clubs, a rare chance for people to make a lot of noise and jump around in the usually hushed atmosphere of an art gallery.

The items in this excellent exhibition range from an 1851 advertisement for Robert Dover’s Olympick Games at Chipping Campden to posters from the 2008 Beijing Olympics. Most of the IOC’s Olympic Games are represented, including some of the Winter Olympics, with a thematic arrangement working alongside the more obvious chronological one. Apart from wishing that I had some of the posters for myself, three things struck me about the collection.

First, there is the old dilemma of presenting what is ultimately advertising material in an art gallery. The old distinctions between fine art and commercial art have probably been irrelevant since at least Toulouse-Lautrec. Even so it can still be odd to walk, as I did at Southampton, past a painting by James Tissot and a sculpture by Antony Gormley and into a quiet space devoted to bits of paper that were designed to be glued to billboards. The reverence that we are supposed to feel in art galleries clashes with the memories that the posters evoke. Some of them are great pieces of commercial art, and established artists including Roy Lichtenstein (LA 1984) and David Hockney (Munich 1972 and LA 1984) do for the Olympics what Lautrec did for Parisian nightclubs. Others, however, have little artistic merit – sorry, Athens 2004, but your piece here looked far too much like a standard Greek holiday poster. Either way, there is still something incongruous about looking at adverts that are framed and labelled as pieces of art.

My second impression was about just how unolympic the early posters were. The exhibition serves as a reminder that certain aspects of the Olympic Games that we now take for granted – the five ring logo, for example, and other aspects of the brand – simply didn’t exist in the competition’s early years. The fencing poster for the 1900 Paris Olympics makes no reference to the Olympic Games, for example, while the rings do not feature on any of the posters here until Los Angeles 1932, despite being used as early as Antwerp 1920. The exhibition is thus a great place to visit for anyone wanting an object lesson in the invention of tradition, or a reminder of how organisations are always evolving.

Finally, I was impressed that the exhibition’s curators had included some oppositional and alternative Olympic posters. The anti-Beijing 2008 designs, with the Olympic rings rendered in barbed wire or as the wheels of tanks, are not included, but a powerful Mexican poster from 1968 stands for the many anti-Olympic campaigns. In this, the campaigners for freedom of speech drew a man with his lips sealed with the Olympic rings. A Terrence Higgins Trust poster from the 1980s renders the rings as a collection of five coloured condoms. A colourful poster for the 1936 Workers’ Olympiad in Barcelona shows one of the forms that opposition to the Berlin Olympics took. The fact that the Barcelona poster includes a representation of a black competitor, something the official posters do not manage until 1960, suggests another interesting avenue for analysis.

The posters thus serve as a visual record of a changing aesthetics in the Olympic movement, and as views of what the Olympics – and their forerunners – were like at different moments in their history. This exhibition is not overly corporate, and is happy to make uncomfortable comparisons and contrasts. It also confirms the importance of visual artefacts as primary sources for the sports historian.

]]> Martin Polley 2009-03-31T01:33:17+01:00