Why Radcliffe will never be a British icon – on or off the track

Wherever you look, Radcliffe’s career is one of confusing decisions and near misses

No one can suggest Paula Radcliffe is averse to sticking her head above the parapet. Or indeed, putting her foot in her mouth. In an era when we criticise sporting pundits for their fear of controversy, the former world champion distance runner, these days a regular on the BBC’s athletics coverage, is more than happy to launch into any issue with the distance running equivalent of a two footed tackle. The thing is, with Radcliffe, it is not just the force of her opinions that stands out. It is that the ones she delivers are often a little odd, generally not quite on track. Which, for those familiar with her career as an athlete, should be of no surprise.
Take her reaction this week to the inclusion in the Dutch Olympic team of the convicted child rapist Steven van de Velde. When she was asked by Andrew Marr on his LBC radio show whether she condemned the decision to select someone who did time in a British prison for the rape of a 12-year-old girl, Radcliffe was unequivocal.
“He was 19 at the time,” she said of the now 29-year-old beach volleyball player. “And he has served his jail time. I think it’s a tough thing to do, to punish him twice. If he has managed successfully to turn his life around after being sent to prison, and to qualify and be playing sport at the highest level, then I actually wish him the best of luck.”
It was a statement that may well have had resonance had Van de Velde found redemption through sport during his time in prison. But the fact is, this is not a tale of turnaround. When he raped the young British girl, he was already an international volleyball player on a trajectory to Olympic representation. His criminal assault on a child has merely delayed his ambition reaching fruition by a couple of years.
After it was pointed out to Radcliffe that the Dutchman was not exactly a shining example of rehabilitation, she rapidly retracted her support, acknowledging she had spoken without full possession of the facts.
“I can only apologise, that isn’t what I intended to say. I stress that it isn’t something that can be excused in any way. I was confused in my head.”
Which, in truth, is a condition that seems often to overwhelm her when making her views widely known: she is confused in her head. There was the time, for instance, she fiercely defended the much exposed coach Alberto Salazar, whose approach to speeding up runners in his charge involved the significant use of pharmaceuticals. It was not a good look for someone whose own somewhat unexpected blood tests were revealed in 2015 by a parliamentary committee investigating doping in sport (though she was later cleared of wrong doing by an IAA investigation). The fact she and Salazar shared a sponsor in Nike seemed to have clouded her judgement as to his attitude to doping.
She has also stuck her neck out over the South African athlete Caster Semanya, questioning whether her naturally high levels of testosterone might preclude her from running in female competition. She realised the territory she had entered there when she received wholesale online abuse as a result. But still she wades in, if not quite the Margaret Court of athletics then pretty close.
It is a far cry from her days as a world-class marathon runner. Back then, there was no confusion in her head. She just ran as fast as she could for as long as she could, her head bobbing as she went. In her prime, when she was invariably accompanied by her insistent husband and coach Gary Lough, whose noisy critique of her would echo down any course, she rarely gave public opinion on anything beyond the venue of her next race.
But here’s the thing about Radcliffe: sadly, when attempting to make her mark in Olympic competition, something always seemed to intervene. Incredibly she does not possess a single Olympics medal of any hue. She came fourth in the 1996 5,000 metres, fifth in the 10,000 metres in 2000 and in Athens in 2004, when she was the overwhelming favourite to land marathon gold, she succumbed to heat exhaustion and did not finish. And that is without mentioning the toilet break in the 2005 London Marathon that came, in its awkward comedic value, to define her. For the wider British public she was never a heroine, always a might have been.
Or rather a should have been. If things had gone differently, her wider standing would be on a par with that of Mo Farah, a serial winner. After all, when she did manage to turn it on, she was extraordinary: she held the record for the 26-mile distance for an incredible 16 years, until it was finally broken by a Kenyan athlete wearing the latest iteration of carbon soled shoes. Radcliffe was inevitably asked about Brigid Kosgei’s footwear when her record was smashed in 2019, and was gracious in acknowledging that had she had access to similar advantages back in her prime she would have seized the opportunity.
But she never had that chance. And, perhaps frustrated by the number of times she seemed unable to control conditions; or emotions; or bowel movements when attempting to acquire the competitive bullion her talents suggested she should, these days she seems to have evolved into a go-to guest for any broadcast interviewer hoping to generate a little controversy. The sadness for Paul Radcliffe is that, just as happened when she went for Olympic gold, in her new career as a controversialist, she never quite gets it right.