It has to do with infidelity

Last Tuesday, the Norwegian Sturla Holm Laegreid won the bronze medal in the 20-kilometer individual biathlon event in Milano-Cortina 2026. What should have been a sporting celebration for his country became a disconcerting moment: before the NRK camerasNorwegian public television, Laegreid burst into tears and He spoke words that would go around the world: “Six months ago I met the love of my life. Three months ago I made the biggest mistake and cheated on her.”

We care about drama. The confession, broadcast live, instantly made his medal a secondary issue. As he himself would later admit before the Norwegian newspaper VGthat had been “the worst week of his life” after having revealed his infidelity to his partner just seven days before the Olympic competition. Six months ago he had found someone he considered his definitive partner, three months later he committed infidelity, and just a week before the Games he decided to confess to him.

Why did he do it? The biathlete recognized to be carrying out what he called “social suicide”, betting on public exposure as the last opportunity for reconciliation. “I have nothing to lose,” he said. And he added: “I had a gold medal in my life, and there are probably many who now look at me differently, but I only have eyes for her.” His ex also agreed to talk to VTcongratulating the gold winner and thanking the entire country for the solidarity received when going through this unpleasant ordeal.

Rain of criticism. Laegreid’s record includes multiple world titles and an Olympic gold achieved in the 4×7.5km relay in Beijing 2022. This was his first medal in the individual category. Precisely due to its relevance, the reactions were immediate. Johannes Thingnes Boe, a biathlon legend with five Olympic gold medals, harshly criticized the live confession: “It was very surprising. The time, place and occasion are totally wrong.” Former skier Therese Johaug, a quadruple Olympic medalist, supported the criticism by pointing out that she had never witnessed such an interview.

In Norway, where biathlon is followed with the passion with which other countries follow football, the criticism did not focus so much on the personal confession as on having overshadowed the triumph of the gold medal winner, his compatriot Johan-Olav Botn, who had made a highly praised gesture, dedicating his gold to a recently deceased teammate. As explained a Spanish resident in OsloNorwegian culture is “less given to gossip” than Spanish culture, and the real problem lay in having diverted media attention from the historical moment of its compatriot.

Ordinary people. We are facing a long Olympic tradition, where dramatic moments transcend brands: the history of the competition is full of episodes that surpassed the Games themselves in media impact. In 1968, American athletes Tommie Smith and John Carlos raised their gloved fists on the podium in Mexico, transforming an awards ceremony in a political gesture against racial segregation. Four years later, the Munich Games were marked by the kidnapping and murder of eleven Israeli athletes. In 1988, Ben Johnson broke the world record for the 100 meters in Seoul, but a doping scandal made his name synonymous with a cheater.

There is no need to go that far in time. At the 2016 Rio Games, swimmer Ryan Lochte invented an armed robbery to cover up an incident of vandalism. And in Paris 2024, the drone espionage of the Canadian women’s soccer team about training in New Zealand generated more headlines than their sport. This need for human narrative was understood decades ago by Roone Arledge, the NBC executive who revolutionized Olympic television coverage: he said that to get the public interested you have to offer them an emotional involvement in what they are seeing. And nothing more emotional than a case of infidelity.

Hooked on the imperfect. The Olympic Games sell us the myth of absolute perfection: impeccable bodies and records beyond the reach of mortals. However, the great paradox of Olympic entertainment is that we are hooked by imperfection: we are fascinated by the cracks because that is where empathy is born. The stories that transcend sport are purely human: we saw it when Simone Biles prioritized his mental health in Tokyo 2020, giving up gold; with the resilience of Cindy Ngamba, first medal for the refugee teamand with the archer Yaylagul Ramazanova, competing pregnant.

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