Let slip the skis of war. Triple axels and salchows spin and splat. For the 20th Winter Olympics open tonight in Turin. They light up the dark of the year. The highest viewing figures for sport on British television were recorded for the games of 1984, when Torvill and Dean Bolero’d their way to the gold medal at Sarajevo. Four years ago millions of Britons stayed up into the early hours to watch middle-aged housewives frantically scrubbing the ice with brooms.
This attraction is a winter paradox. There is seldom enough snow for skiing in the United Kingdom. But Britons invented most of the winter sports: the Cresta run, bobsleigh, skeleton, Alpine skiing, curling... natives of the Alps used to ski and skate as their only means of winter travel. British tourists started sliding and slipping for fun, and so helped to create the package tour. But naturally those who spent their lives amid snow and ice became better at these activities than the inhabitants of a damp island.
All things are possible. But Britain will be delighted/lucky to pick up a medal. The second paradox is that winter sports are becoming popular rather than elitist. The third is that most winter sports are absurd. This is true of all sport, when examined through cynical eyes. But in most winter sports the true opponent is the clock and the performer, not the enemy. Winning may matter to medal-counters, but nationalism is less pugnacious than in confrontational sports. The athletes show icy grace under pressure; and their costumes are in entertainingly bad taste. And for armchair sportsmen, there is vicarious relief that somebody else is out in the cold, performing frozen wonders.