In the cold, white silence of a European winter, the young shooter sits hostage in his hotel room. There’s no TV in his room, no room service available, no language spoken he understands. He’s distressed by his form, has fought with his coach, has no parent to lean on. Lonely and distressed he rips the curtains off their hooks.

Amid the clamouring prayer of the faithful in stadiums, the beseeching of autograph hunters, the shine of the spotlight, sport never looks like what it mostly is.