It’s difficult to remember a period when the phrase “Irish swimming” wasn’t synonymous with joy, unity, and celebration, rather it brought back memories of disgrace and a seemingly unceasing series of horrifying incidents. The vision of Daniel Wiffen standing on the podium, wiping his teary eyes underneath his spectacles while the strains of Amhrán na bhFiann played, or an exuberantly jubilant Mona McSharry hoisting the Irish flag above her, could almost make us abandon those dreadful times. However, these unpleasant memories have resurfaced unexpectedly this week, resulting in an extraordinarily cruel twist of fate.
McSharry graced the front page of Tuesday morning’s newspapers, a hand over her mouth, eyes wide with shock at her bronze medal achievement, the Olympic rings symbol etched on her left wrist. Wednesday brought a vision of Wiffen emerging from the pool, as if the water itself parted for him. Later that same the day, all the headlines were splashed with the horrifying news of Derry O’Rourke: the ex-swimming coach with a criminal conviction for child rape.
The painful reality of William Faulkner’s famous quote from Requiem for a Nun, where a lawyer reminds his client that “the past is not dead, it’s not even past”, came to manifest as swimming’s darkest period cast a daunting shadow over its brightest present – the echelon of the sport stood side by side with its vilest moment.
Entering the courtroom where he was sentenced to a 10-year term for raping a 14-year-old girl he used to coach in the late 80s and early 90s, was a barely recognisable O’Rourke, the man who once ruled the swimming pool as his personal playground and private house of horrors. His cruel mouth slightly drooped; his once intimidating clawed hands, the source of much terror, now clung on to a walking aid and a vintage suitcase. He unabashedly stared into the camera, revealing a man with a distorted messianic complex, who had stated at his initial sentence in 1998 that he “considered it a blessing that when I was first interviewed, my first reaction was to pray for the people I offended.”
Judge Kieran O’Connor, addressed O’Rourke’s former spouse as “the bravest woman I have ever encountered in this courtroom” once she revealed her husband’s inappropriate desires towards “the girls”. Would the judge’s opinion be different if “the girls” themselves were given an uninterrupted platform to express their views? He attempted to discourage the victims of O’Rourke from imparting their experiences in fear it would further traumatise them. Comforting one victim, abused by O’Rourke since she was 11, he empathised saying he could comprehend her agony as he had “encountered much horrific incidents”. Upon learning she renounced swimming due to the trauma, he suggested she try swimming in the ocean.
Another woman boldly expressed to the judge, “my apologies if my agony distresses you. However, expressing it will be therapeutic for me”.
O’Rourke was found guilty for abusing 11 women, which theoretically should put him behind bars for 109 years. However, he was sentenced just for 12 years and was released after serving only nine.
Victims may not receive parole or second chances, but sometimes, they devise their own corrective mechanisms. This week Justine McCarthy praised how the survivors of O’Rourke’s abuse have blossomed into incredibly brave women. By ensuring O’Rourke faced the judiciary in 2000, 2005 and 2010, the women indirectly made him serve his sentence where he got a suspended punishment for his crime of rape.
You would imagine, in an era where zero-tolerance towards sexual predators is encouraged, those who exploit children would no longer get second chances. However, try not to gaze too intently at the ensemble of athletes sailing down the Seine in Paris, primarily the Dutch volleyball team. One of its team players, Steven van de Velde, was proved guilty of raping a 12-year-old girl from Britain ten years ago.
Initial online conversations led him to believe she was 16, when he was a rising volleyball promising player of 19 years. Even after discovering she was just 12, he persisted communication. Soon he booked a flight from Amsterdam to Luton via EasyJet in August 2014 to meet the young girl, shared Baileys drinks with her, and then violated her. Before returning, he advised his victim to acquire the morning-after pill.
Following a by-now commonplace pattern, she was left picking up the pieces. The court heard tales of her overwhelming guilt and self-harming during her sentence. In contrast, he was moved to the Netherlands 12 months later and after a month he regained his freedom and continued with his sports career. Ten years after boarding his flight to Luton, he confidently reappeared on the volleyball court under the Eiffel Tower, reflecting an ongoing societal trend to forgive males who excel in some way, whether that be at ball games, at the poolside, or in any field whatsoever. How must it feel for those violated by such men?
How would the victims of O’Rourke react, seeing such joy and pride emanating from McSharry and Wiffen as they engage in a sport the victims were once passionate about? To imagine, they could’ve been in their shoes in a different reality?
The physical harm done by men such as O’Rourke is but the tip of the iceberg when calculating the damage they inflict; the denied experiences and the disintegration of the victims’ lives afterward are harder to quantify.
A singular thought from Catherine Cleary’s coverage of the 1998 sentencing proceedings particularly resonates with me for it encapsulating the immense loss experienced by victims. Her report opened with a sentence that remains poignant: “The smell of chlorine triggers her flashbacks…”