Rethinking the spectator experience in swimming.

At a recent competition, I experienced swimming from a perspective I rarely occupy: that of a spectator in the stands rather than a coach on deck. The experience offered an important reminder of why swimming has never established itself as a mainstream spectator sport.

Since retiring from competitive swimming, I have been coaching continuously, spending nearly every day on deck or in the water since 1974. Sitting in the stands, awaiting the relays while watching the 1500-meter freestyle, it became clear just how difficult it is for audiences to remain engaged during long sessions.

The environment itself was uncomfortable. The venue was excessively hot, and the shrill, repeated whistle of a coach pierced the air. Considering that swimmers are already racing at maximum effort and can hear very little while in the water, this practice seemed ineffective and unnecessarily disruptive. Applause, cheering, or even visible gestures would serve the same purpose without the grating effect.

The evening program began with events for swimmers with disabilities, followed by lower-ranked heats, and concluded with the final eight competitors. Without clear explanations of the classifications and results, however, it was nearly impossible for a spectator to follow how outcomes were determined—for example, how a swimmer who finished last in a heat could ultimately be declared the winner.

During one of the longest distance events, the lack of engagement became especially evident. Hoping for relief, I discovered an empty, air-conditioned room with seating behind the stands, only to be escorted out by an official who explained that the space was reserved exclusively for VIPs. The contrast between the discomfort of the main seating area and the unused comfort of the reserved section highlighted a missed opportunity to improve the general spectator experience.

The announcer made commendable efforts to energize the crowd, but the poor quality of the PA system rendered commentary unintelligible and monotonous. Around me, many spectators appeared disengaged, focused instead on their phones. Initially, I assumed they were bored, but I soon realized they were simply trying to determine which event was underway. The electronic display inaccurately listed finals as preliminary heats, and the explanation given—that “everyone knows” the system—was unconvincing and unhelpful to casual fans.

Only when the relays began did the atmosphere change. The races were competitive, the cheering was genuine, and the energy in the venue briefly matched the intensity in the pool. Unfortunately, those moments were the exception rather than the rule.

The conclusion was unavoidable: swim meets are not structured with spectators in mind. Attendance remains low, and most of those present are family members of athletes, who often leave immediately after the races in which their swimmers compete.

For swimming to expand its audience and strengthen its presence as a sport, organizers must begin to prioritize the spectator experience. At present, following an event on a phone can be more engaging than watching it live. That reality should serve as a wake-up call for the future of the sport.