Bad news for Russia at the Winter Olympics next year: they’re banned. Too much state-sponsored doping. Sorry, everybody. On the plus side, though, Russians can still compete in South Korea, as long as they have a clean record, and as long as they do so under a neutral flag. The International Olympic Committee (IOC) proposes referring to such competitors as “Olympic Athletes from Russia”, a fine but critical distinction and entirely in keeping with this wholly decent compromise.
However, they’re going to need a flag. Which is where you come in. Our Christmas competition this year is to design a standard under which “Olympic Athletes from Russia” can appropriately and without discomfort compete. We’ll forward the best of those designs to the IOC, and who knows? Come February, you could be basking in the pleasure of seeing your work carried into the arena on a pole ahead of some presumably slightly awkward sportspeople at the opening ceremony.
Now, as far as guidelines are concerned, we recognise the instinct to use this high-profile moment in sporting history to make an emphatic point about the evils of systemic doping. At the same time, one doesn’t want to be too Nancy Reagan about it all, so be warned that we’ll most likely be dismissing anything using the slogan “Just Say No”. Ditto crossed-out pictures of needles, blood-spinning paraphernalia, etc.
Instead, perhaps you might think about adapting the old BBC test card, with the girl and the slightly alarming clown playing noughts and crosses on a chalkboard. OK, it’s a bit parochial, but it conveys that sense of suspension during a temporary fault, which is sort of the point here.
Or what about some kind of tartan rug? In other words, taking the idea of a “blanket ban” but making something cosy out of it. Practical, too, because don’t forget: this is the Winter Olympics. It can get cold out there. Especially if you’re completely sober.
So, crayons out and get to it, everybody. Use all the powers of your (undrugged) imagination. And wait, because, thinking about it, they’re going to need an anthem too. The Verve’s The Drugs Don’t Work would have a certain poignancy, but it’s a bit long for a medal ceremony. In any case, it would be nice to come up with something bespoke — something that sounds rousingly proud and, at the same time, deeply humble and, at the same time, not at all smug, while also being both glad and sorrowful, triumphant and apologetic. Any composers out there?
[свернуть]