My theory on how Rachael Gunn made it to the Olympics

A fresh take on an exhausted story

Okay, so I have a theory on how Rachael ‘RayGun’ Gunn got into the Olympics. 

Here’s what I think. 

So one day, right, while shopping in a mysterious market, Rachael came across a shrivelled monkey’s paw. A sinister-looking shopkeeper, registering her interest, said that if she made a wish, the paw would grant it. Rachael apparently handed over her money, held the gruesome appendage, and closed her eyes. 

“I want to be the most famous break dancer in the world,” she thought.   

Now, what the shopkeeper neglected to mention was that the monkey paw was cursed. Yes, it would grant her wish. But not in the manner you’d expect. 

This explains why Rachael ‘Raygun’ Gunn is the only breakdancer you know by name, and also one of the most vilified people in Australia. 

Honestly, short of an ancient curse, I can see few other plausible explanations for the slavering-at-the-mouth, white-hot, eye-rolling c-r-a-z-y that this story has unleashed in the general population. I’ve read essays on Mussolini that are gentler than think-pieces written about RayGun over the last ten days.

“But HOW did she qualify? Whom did she beat? Was she really the best breakdancer Australia has to offer???”

Respectfully, with regards to any question of this ilk, I do not give a fuck. 

Before Rachael Gunn b-girled her way into the collective id, the last time I thought about breakdancing was when BombFunk MC dropped Freestyler. To suddenly pretend that I have an opinion on the greatly respected artform of breakdancing is intellectually dishonest.

But this story isn’t really about Rachael Gunn. It’s about Australia’s extremely fragile national pride. 

For whatever reason, Australians have an enormous stake in being a sporting country. It might be how we see ourselves, but we’re using a funhouse mirror. Australians are largely a sedentary and squishy people – almost 80% of adults don’t move enough to be considered healthy. The idea of us as sunkissed larrikins having a kick on the footy field is objectively wrong.  We’re actually a nation of pie-eaters, doing laps around the Woolies carpark, trying to get a spot as close to the door as possible.

Aussie Aussie Aussie, oi oi oiiiii. I had my blinker on, mate,

But for some reason, we need to do well at the Olympics in order to satisfy our collective self-esteem. As if some 20-something athlete’s gold medal is a reflection of me and my sporting abilities. So what is it about then?

Take a guess at what the best predictor of Olympic success is. Here’s a hint: it’s not being an outdoorsy nation, having a dinky-di Aussie spirit, or even being a little battler nation that punches above its weight.  

It’s money. That’s it. 

Dollars in = medals out. 

In the lead up to the Paris Olympics, Australia spent (conservatively) $389 million on elite athletes alone. That figure doesn’t include local clubs, or grassroots community stuff. So our place on the global medal tally was exactly where you’d expect it to be – right up there with the other big spenders. The Albanese government has since committed significantly more money. Australia will now spend more than $489 million over two years on the same programs. 

That’s a big pricetag for a couple of weeks of glory every four years.  

But our population is largely happy to see this wedge of our tax dollars going to athletes and sports. It means that every four years we get to cosplay as a plucky little underdog, rather than a rich, established sporting juggernaut which has been sinking cash into this enterprise for decades. 

Australia’s vision for itself stagnated in the 1980s – so what could be more important than the Olympics? It’s a super serious and internationally significant event! It’s about dreams! Doin’ it for your nation! 

For sure, it would be a shame if someone was to reveal the Olympics to be a very camp, very cringe, global Eurovision for jocks. 

Which is – uh oh! – exactly what Rachael Gunn did. 

There Australia was, doing well on the national stage. We were on track for our best medal tally ever and no one was going to spoil that moment. But then Rachael Gunn did those little kangaroo-inspired hippity-hops. Suddenly everyone was laughing at us. We all felt a bit silly.

I don’t care what anyone says – this isn’t Rachael’s fault. The entire breakdancing division was embarrassing – even the gold medalists gave a lacklustre performance. But should we really be surprised? Like Australia, breakdancing hasn’t been culturally relevant since the early 90s. I honestly couldn’t think of a better representative for the sport than someone in their mid-30s with a PhD.

Nonetheless, a lot of anger was aimed at Rachael. Australia isn’t investing $400 million into introspection, after all.

Breakdancing is inherently a bit silly and probably shouldn’t have been included in the sporting lineup. By all reports it won’t appear again. But really, is breakdancing more ridiculous than dressage? Rhythmic gymnastics? Synchronised swimming??? 

Rachael didn’t mean for this to happen, but she  unwittingly became the child in the ‘emperor's new clothes’ parable. In this story, a child points out the emperor wasn’t clad in fine fabric that only idiots would fail to see; he was naked. Rachael showed that a pursuit we’d been treating with reverence and pride – the Olympics – was maybe a bit dumb. 

And Australia suddenly found itself naked in the middle of a big crowd, having spent far too much for the privilege of being there. We all looked the fool. And for $400 million? 

Perhaps we are.