Sporting life: cuts kick in

A recent report from Sheffield Hallam University found that the English spend over £17bn a year on sport— nearly 3 per cent of all consumer spending. The study, “The Economic Value of Sport in England,” also estimated that 441,000 people are in sports-related employment, or just under 2 per cent of the workforce. Sport, therefore, is a small but not inconsiderable economic sector and one whose current fortunes parallel the course of the wider economy.

In the most successful parts of the sporting private sector, things continue to look rosy. The Premiership appears to be recession-proof—there has as yet been no real drop in the numbers of fans willing to shell out for subscriptions, season tickets and merchandising. Wages continue to rise and foreign billionaires keep buying part of the action. In the midst of the global financial crisis, the Premiership negotiated its best-ever television deal, while the bankruptcy of Portsmouth was passed off as an isolated folly rather than a structural problem. There are still some institutions whose financial arrangements are unsavoury: Liverpool and Manchester United for example. (See Sam Knight’s article “A new age of fan power?”) Sharp rises in interest rates and big drops in consumer spending may yet drive their owners to the wall, and take a slew of smaller clubs in the lower divisions with them. The situation of Scottish football—mired in debt, internationally uncompetitive, dependent on a small domestic market and going nowhere—is perhaps closer to the predicament of the rest of the economy.

Things are different in the public sector, which is braced for gigantic cuts. Its biggest sporting project is, of course, the London 2012 Olympics. While small savings can still be made, the money has been largely spent, the commitments have been made and the party will be over by the time the precipitous drop in public expenditure kicks in. Indeed, given how little money there is, the legacy of the Olympics (in both infrastructure and inspiration) has become the centrepiece of what sports policy is left. As sports minister Hugh Robertson said: “Delivering a legacy from 2012 is one of my top priorities. I want people of all ages and abilities to have opportunities to take part in all kinds of sport.”

So where are the cuts going to come from? And how will the government be able to meet its participation pledge? Beyond the worlds of super-commercialised professional sport and national prestige projects are the places where most sport is actually played: municipal centres, clubs, associations and so on. And it is almost certainly in these places where the cuts will fall.

Like the other government departments, the department for culture, media and sport has been asked to reduce spending by at least 25 per cent. This will affect the two quangos responsible for the Olympic legacy: Sport England, which raises participation rates and looks after the grassroots, and UK Sport, which supports elite non-commercial sports and is ruthlessly focused on medals at 2012. The government is merging the two, but this will deliver only a piffling gain in efficiency and a tiny fraction of the necessary savings. Local government, which provides much of the funding for public sports facilities and voluntary organisations, will be taking a huge hit too and has vast statutory obligations to meet before it can get around to playing fields and swimming pools. The end of free swimming for under 16s and over 60s is just the start, and the withdrawal of funds for playground building is a taste of the collapse in capital spending to come.

How then to ensure that 2012 legacy? Beyond getting a good medal count at the games, the government now has only Sport England to play with. And it has proved a hapless institution, plagued by endless internal reforms and changes of personnel, and subject to a number of fraud investigations. Worse, Sport England has failed to meet its targets for increasing public participation in sport and in particular those of its “priority groups”: women, ethnic minorities, the poor and disabled. Between 2005 and 2008 it spent £660m on this across the population—and yet the participation rate of women in sport fell by 1.6 per cent. It did get half a million more people to play sport—or, as the bureaucrats have it, engage in moderately intense physical activity for 30 minutes three times a week. But now a mere division within the new quango is responsible for public participation, and it has to double that increase with what will probably be less than three-quarters of the money.

Meanwhile, much of the £17bn consumer spending on sport (almost 90 times Sport England’s old budget) will go on TV subscriptions and casual sportswear. The main legacy of 2012 may be a reminder of our private affluence and public squalor; for our preference for consumption over participation; and for our success in training elites but failing the public.