In the world of sports, we’re so fixated on going forward. We run forward, we throw forward, we score goals that are, by definition, in front of us. Even sports that seem to go backward, like the backstroke in swimming or the high jump where you fall backward over the bar, are just clever ways of propelling yourself in a forward direction. And let’s not forget the defenders in team sports who backpedal like their life depends on it.

But what if we flipped the script? What if we embraced the art of regression? I’ve concluded that the world needs a truly backward sports competition, a monumental celebration of going in the opposite direction. And so, I’ve created the Reverse Olympics, or as I like to call them to avoid a very stern letter from a certain committee in Lausanne, the SCIPMYLO Games.

At the SCIPMYLO Games, the concept is simple: everything is reversed. And I’m not talking about a subtle twist on an existing sport. I’m talking about a full-on, head-over-heels, “Are you sure this is a good idea?” kind of backward.

For our inaugural games, we’ll have a lineup of events that will challenge the very notion of what it means to be an athlete.

Forget the 100-meter dash. Our athletes will line up at the finish line, facing the starting blocks. The pistol fires, and they must sprint backward down the track. The race isn’t over when they cross the starting line; it’s over when both feet are on the blocks and their hands are on the ground, a position that’s both a nod to traditional sprinting and a fantastic opportunity for some spectacular falls. It’s a true test of balance, spatial awareness, and the ability to not trip over your own two feet.

Or what about the Under-Hurdles: Running forward is still the goal here, but the objective has changed. Instead of gracefully leaping over hurdles, our competitors must contort their bodies to go under them. Picture a line of athletes performing a chaotic, high-speed limbo. The winner is the one who can slide, duck, and roll their way to the finish line without getting stuck or, worse, running into a hurdle and creating a domino effect of human bowling pins.

Or the Backward Javelin? Now, this is a tricky one. While a good backward throw might be a sight to behold, safety is paramount. We wouldn’t want to ask anyone to catch a pointy stick flying at 90 mph. That’s a liability nightmare. So, we’ve replaced it with the Discus Return. The athlete launches the discus, and a brave (and well-padded) volunteer must then throw it back to them from the same distance. Points are awarded for a successful catch, with bonus points for a no-look catch and a medal for not needing to be escorted to the medical tent.

If the world of sports can embrace new formats like the high-energy T20 cricket or the fast-paced, digitalized indoor golf leagues, why can’t we introduce a competition that challenges the very nature of winning?

I think I’m on to a winner with the SCIPMYLO Games. Or a loser. Maybe we should even reverse the medals and award gold to the person who comes in last, recognizing that coming in dead last in the most ridiculous way possible is, in itself, a form of victory.

The possibilities are endless at the SCIPMYLO Games! All I need is a benevolent benefactor-perhaps a Gulf state with a penchant for the absurd and a spare £10 billion for the broadcasting rights. With that kind of investment, I can guarantee more people will tune in to watch the Backward Javelin than the entire World Club football championships. It’s not just a sport; it’s a spectacle of glorious failure, and who doesn’t want to watch that?