The 2024 Olympic Games have taken Paris by storm. They are mesmerizing. Such a diversity of human athletics performing all manner of extraordinary feats, whether it be swimming like sharks, diving like dolphins, running like cheetahs, or jumping like kangaroos. I watched the triathlon which is an endurance multisport race consisting of swimming in the murky Seine, and then cycling through and running up and down the muggy streets of Paris. The stamina and grit of those who take part is superhuman. There isn’t an animal that matches their prowess.
Which is why when something mind-boggling happens it is truly remarkable. For a long time, during this year’s race, the favoured Brit in the men’s competition, Alex Yee, was way behind his rival, the New Zealander, Hayden Wilde. But then out of nowhere, he stepped up a gear and proceeded to race passed Hayden, with just 400 metres to go. He kept going reminding me of Forrest Gump, his momentum keeping him ahead. He then won the gold medal by a considerable distance. His rival could do nothing at that point but look on; having expended all his energy before, thinking he had it in the bag. How was this possible? How is someone able to turbo charge, like a sports car, after 2 hours of gruelling racing? 
It appears on the last lap that he heard his coach poignantly say: “Anything can happen, mate.” These choice words jolted Yee into action. Usually the crowd will rally together in the hope of motivating runners with cries of “Not far now,” “You can do it”, “come on, keep going” and the like. Coaches might use arm gestures or hand signals. But this philosophical turn of phrase, which appeared seemingly out of the blue, resonated in Yee’s brain and body in a way that stock phrases might not have. It did not nudge him but empowered him to believe he could go the extra mile.
What is it about the power of language that it can motivate us to change our behaviour and even do something out of the ordinary? Peter Johnston in his book on education, called Choice Words, provides examples of words and phrases that are key to the effective orchestration of the classroom. He points out how what teachers say can have a big impact on how children learn, think and behave later on in life. Importantly, a teacher that can get a child to figure things out for themselves is the best strategy. This involves encouraging discussion by asking open-ended questions rather than simply telling children what they can and cannot do. As Jean Piaget famously once wrote, “When you teach a child something you take away forever his chance of discovering it for himself.”
Yee’s coach was masterful when he spoke those four words – they were not intended to encourage him to keep going – as he was clearly way behind his rival – but to make him stop for a second, think the unimaginable, and in so doing, turn things around. They were chosen not in anger but in brilliance.
Peter Johnston (2024) Choice Words. 2nd edition. Routledge.
When I lived in Swansea, in my student days, I often heard it said that the city was the graveyard of ambition – wrongly or rightly attributed to Dylan Thomas, the great welsh poet who once lived there. The sentiment behind this omen was to get out as soon as you could. At the time I never gave it much thought; being a young whipper snapper full of ideas and dreams. But after visiting the city again, a few days ago with seasoned eyes, I can see why it continues to reverberate through the city right down the valleys. While there are pockets of economic growth and a marvellous football stadium gleaming on the outskirts, the city has become pitifully run down, looking a shell of its former proud self.
For a few years I used to live in the Mumbles – a picture postcard fishing village on the outskirts of Swansea. One year, we rented a fisherman’s cottage overlooking the bay, where each night we listened to the moored sailing boats in front of us tinkling in the wind. Between the sea and us was a street full of individual pubs. Each had its fill of real characters whose strong welsh voices sung heartily and told tales into the night. At the end of the road, was a Victorian pier whose wrought iron work was covered in barnacles, rust and seaweed. And at the end of the pier was an enormous nightclub called Cinderellas. It lived up to its name. Every friday night we would end up dancing our socks off to the likes of the Smiths, Talking Heads, David Sylvian, B52s and Billy Idol. This weekly merriment was followed by a Saturday pub lunch at the White Rose, mingling and talking with the locals about the rugby. Then Sunday it was Dylans (a lively mainly student pub) and Monday a rendezvous at Bentleys for a 60s night, a dressed up nightclub, where we put on our glad rags and the locals danced in their stilettos. You just knew where to go each night.
This visit, I had come to Swansea University on business. In the evening we went for a meal at Langland Brasserie, located in a fantastic spot overlooking the pristine bay. I was full of anticipation. However, as my taxi driver drove me along the unfolding Mumbles Road, he looked dolefully at me in his rear mirror and said the Mumbles was not the same anymore. I looked at his reflected self quizzically while squinting at the glistening pier on the horizon in the evening sunlight. I knew times had been bad but I thought that this fishing village would be spared because it had always been overflowing with a joie de vivre. I started listing my favourite haunts – to which he replied gone to each one; even the stalwart Cinderellas, he said, had been knocked off its perch and replaced by a skating rink. I was gutted.
I felt an aching sadness as I walked to the station the next morning past the former social centres – their old signs just barely perceptible. Opposite the station, I noticed a run-down café that was open; with a single Hopperesque man sitting in the window framed by a piece of cardboard, that had a faded shaky “TEA large 90p” handwritten on it. Not far from this very spot I once saw the Specials play. I remembered us all pogo-ing manically to their infectious pop songs. Their hit single “Ghost Town” had a chorus we all loved to sing along to – the prescient lyrics seem more poignant today than in the 80s.