In a twist that seems lifted straight from a dystopian comedy, Australian swimming sensation Cameron McEvoy finds it “ludicrous” and “unfortunate” that while a competitor from the Enhanced Games—a gig that sounds like a superhero movie gone wrong—snagged a cool US$1 million (A$1.4 million) for breaking the 50-metre freestyle world record, he walked away with exactly zero bonus dollars. That’s right! A big fat goose egg! And he did it all “clean.” No capes, no super suits, just pure talent.
Last Friday, in a spectacular display reminiscent of someone trying to outrun their responsibilities, McEvoy shattered the previous record by clocking an impressive 20.88 seconds at the China Open. All eyes must have been rolling at the mention of Brazilian César Cielo’s outdated record of 20.91 seconds, set in the now-infamous “super-suits” era—the period when swimming was less about pure skill and more about who could squeeze into a fancy outfit the quickest.
To put it in perspective, during that ultra-glam era, swimming attire apparently made more waves than the swimmers themselves, with over 200 world records falling like dominoes. But alas, McEvoy wasn’t even wearing a cute little speedo—just the sad truth of clean athleticism!
“It’s bonkers to think that breaking a world record sans fancy gear, and while avoiding the juice like it’s some toxic ex, nets you zero dollars,” McEvoy lamented to reporters from Wide World of Sports. “Meanwhile, if I decided to don a suit that can drop half a second off my time—and maybe get juiced up on questionable substances—suddenly I’m swimming to the bank with a million bucks in hand. Who needs ethics when you have cash?”
McEvoy didn’t stop there, explaining the stark contrast: “We’re talking a total of over $2 million compared to my charming zero! It feels like the clean path is a treadmill of pure agony. So, it’s pretty ridiculous, and honestly unfortunate that such a snazzy pathway has no reward—guess hard work and integrity don’t pay the bills!”
Echoing McEvoy’s sentiments, sports veterans aren’t thrilled either. Australian swimming legend Cate Campbell recently called out the Enhanced Games concept with the subtlety of a sledgehammer, saying it has “hype but not credibility.” In her own words, Enhanced Games recruits are “lazy” and operate under the unconvincing guise of “cheats.” But hey, let’s not forget—it’s all in good fun, like a clown trying to juggle chainsaws.
As McEvoy gabbed to reporters beside the Brisbane River on a lovely day—birds chirping, water flowing, and his one-year-old son Hartley wearing an adorably cheeky t-shirt saying, “My daddy’s cool … 20.88”—it became clear the world, or at least the sports world, was having a laugh. Who knew competitive swimming could inspire such existential dread paired with a hearty chuckle?
