Sporting tradition dictates that, by the time the last medals are handed out this summer, the Olympic Village — home to 23,000 of the world’s fittest humans — will have descended into a hotbed of sexual debauchery.
It is with some disappointment, then, that when organisers offered the first glimpse into London’s Olympic Village yesterday morning, they revealed 2,818 rooms notable only for their Spartan decor, and chaste focus on optimum sporting performance.
Beds are less than a metre wide and two metres long, although 35 per cent of them are extendable for athletes up to 2.3 metres tall. Many of the beds — a total of 16,000 for the Olympics, and 6,000 for the Paralympics — are in basic twin rooms.
Floors are hard, as carpets harbour dust and insects that can compromise performance. And while black-out blinds will ensure the best possible night’s sleep, it is hoped that brightly coloured duvets — complete with sporty pictograms and the slogan “Courage, Determination, Inspiration, Equality” — will help to calm nerves in the wee small hours before events.
For the first time in Olympic history, athletes will also have the luxury of soft furnishing, in the form of lounge areas with sofas and televisions, an improvement, some say, on past Games. But the Ritz it is not.
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In fact, the overall feeling at the 2012 Village in Stratford, East London, is that of halls of residence housing the world’s most well-behaved students.
Jonathan Edwards, 2000 Olympic triple-jump champion and chairman of the athletes committee, which advised on the fit-out, said: “Athletes aren’t looking for five-star accommodation, but for things to be taken care of so they can focus on doing their best.” And so Holiday Inn, the sponsors, have brought in “90 of their best people from around the world” to act as concierges.
But what about the debauchery? Are there house rules on who can stay over? “There will be an 11 o’clock curfew, [after which] people will have to keep the noise down,” Edwards said. “You only have to tip-toe back in at 2am, slam the door, and wake up someone who is competing the next day.
“When there is a party mood, it can be hard to keep focus.” But he denied reports of promiscuity after the medals are handed out. “It’s really not like that,” said Edwards, a committed Christian. “But maybe I just wasn’t going to all the right parties.”
He does concede coyly: “There is the whole range of human activity that goes on. There’s nothing quite like it.” Come July, the balconies will be emblazoned with national flags and team mascots. But organisers dampened suggestions that politics came into play when, for example, deciding whether the balconies of North and South Korea should face each other, or who should get the keys next door to, say, the Iranian team or the Americans.
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It’s all about numbers, said Edwards. “You put in the big blocks first. Where’s Britain, Germany, France going to go? Then juggle around the smaller ones to make sure everyone gets . . . space.”
Tony Sainsbury, head of Village Management for Locog and veteran of 13 Games, added: “It’s more about where you put the big sporting rivals.”
Beyond 4.2 metre fences yesterday afternoon, the last rolls of turf were being laid. The entire area will be under CCTV surveillance, which will be monitored from a nearby centre, while about 1,500 security guards will patrol the electric fences on rolling shifts.
The village will have a communal dining area and a place to unwind and socialise. Mr Sainsbury said that the village management was very supportive of what sport psychologists call “meaningful distraction”. Like mad, post-competition sex between people of 200 different nations? He shakes his head. “The sort of thing that is reported is very much exaggerated.”