The early modern Olympics were not what you know today. They were improvised, chaotic, deeply confused about what "sport" even meant — and for that reason, they are infinitely more interesting.
"In 1900, live pigeon shooting was contested at the Paris Games. It remains the only Olympic event in history where animals were killed as a direct object of competition."
Paris, 1900:
The 1900 Paris Games are, by almost any measure, the strangest Olympics ever held. They were embedded into the Paris World's Fair as a kind of afterthought, stretched across five months, and so poorly publicized that many of the athletes who competed did not know they were in the Olympics at all. Some of them only discovered this decades later, from historians.
Live pigeon shooting event. The rules were simple: birds were released one at a time from traps, and competitors had to shoot as many as possible before they escaped beyond a boundary. The man who shot the most pigeons won. A Belgian named Léon de Lunden claimed gold with 21 birds to his name. It is estimated that around 300 pigeons were killed over the course of the competition.
The event was never held again. Even the early Olympics, apparently, had a limit. It was replaced in subsequent Games by clay pigeon shooting (which had the advantage of being both cleaner and considerably less upsetting).
Forgotten Events of the Early Olympics
Tug of War Contested from 1900 to 1920. Teams of eight pulled a rope; if neither side moved six feet in five minutes, the team that had pulled the other furthest won. Great Britain dominated, often fielding teams made up entirely of London policemen.
Live Pigeon Shooting Appeared once, at Paris 1900. The only Olympic event explicitly designed to kill living animals. Never repeated.
Plunge for Distance Contested at St. Louis 1904. Athletes dived into a pool and then did absolutely nothing (no kicking, no arm movement) for sixty seconds. The winner was whoever had drifted the furthest by pure momentum.
Club Swinging Held in 1904 and 1932. Gymnasts swung Indian clubs in rhythmic patterns. Judged on grace. Inexplicably absent from the modern Olympics.
Obstacle Swimming Paris 1900. Competitors swam 200 meters while climbing over a pole, scrambling over a row of boats, and swimming under another row of boats. One man won gold and apparently never raced again.
The tug of war, and the question of what a sport actually is
Tug of war was an Olympic event for twenty years. This is not a rumour or an exaggeration. It appeared at every Games between 1900 and 1920, making it (by time in use) more of an Olympic sport than softball, rugby sevens, or skateboarding.
The 1908 London Games produced one of the event's more memorable controversies. The American team accused the British squad of wearing illegal boots. The boots in question were heavy, hobnailed affairs designed to grip the ground. The Americans wanted a rematch in flat shoes. The British politely declined. The Americans withdrew in protest. The British team won gold by default, which is perhaps the most British Olympic outcome conceivable.
What makes tug of war's inclusion interesting is that it forces a question the early Olympics never quite resolved: what separates sport from a physical contest? Tug of war requires genuine strength, coordination, and technique. So does weightlifting, which nobody questions. The difference seems largely a matter of image, of whether a thing looks sufficiently athletic and serious.
The same question haunts the plunge for distance, contested at St. Louis in 1904. Athletes dived into a pool and then simply floated for sixty seconds, with the winner being whoever had drifted furthest on the force of their entry alone. There is a question of if a good plunge requires skill, but the event was regarded as eccentric even at the time, and vanished without protest.
"The 1900 Paris Games were so poorly publicised that many athletes who competed did not know they were in the Olympics at all. Some discovered this only decades later, from historians."
The lesson underneath the absurdity
It would be easy to read these forgotten events as simple embarrassments, historical oddities to be chuckled at. But there is something more interesting going on.
This tells us something important about how institutions become authoritative. Today the Olympics feels permanent, almost natural, as though the pole vault and the 400 metres hurdles were simply discovered, like mathematical constants. In fact they were chosen, contested, argued over, and revised. The events that survived did so not because they are objectively more sporting than tug of war, but because they acquired enough defenders, enough infrastructure, and enough televised drama to make their removal unthinkable.
Live pigeon shooting dropped out because it was indefensible even by the standards of 1900. Tug of war dropped out because it looked unglamorous and was difficult to film. The plunge for distance dropped out because nobody was sure what, exactly, you were supposed to feel watching it.
Until next time,
Philosophically Inaccurate