The price of gold

On 27 July millions will drown in syrup as Jacques Rogge, President of the International Olympic Committee, delivers his usual platitudes about international togetherness and sport without boundaries. He might, for example, do something close to reciting the mission statement of the IOC’s world conference on Sport for All, held in Beijing last September: ‘to build a better world by encouraging the practice of sport for all, particularly in the developing world’.

Then, once the last firework has been discharged and the stands are cleared away, we can get on with the business of the Olympics: rich countries hauling in the medals which they bought with mountains of public and private cash. Forget the guff about the world competing as one: Usain Bolt aside, this year’s Olympics will, even more than the last one, be a conspiracy of the rich world to show its sporting prowess over the poor.

Huge efforts will be put in over the next few months to try to ensure that no athlete gains advantage over his rivals through drugs. But you won’t hear many people — and certainly not the London 2012 organising committee — raising concerns about an even more potent performing-enhancing substance: lucre. I hope you enjoy those gold medals as they trickle in; you have certainly paid enough for them. Through the auspices of UK Sport you and I have contributed £264 million towards training Olympic competitors and fine-tuning their kit. If Team GB repeats its performance at Beijing 2008 and wins 19 golds, that will be just under £14 million of public money per gold medal.

On top of UK Sport’s lottery-funded handouts comes all the corporate sponsorship a rich country can afford. Our sailing team, which won four golds in Beijing and has received £22.9 million from UK Sport, will be backed by Scandia, the life insurance company.