大象传媒

When 400m champion took off his black beret during the playing of the American national anthem at the he disappointed hundreds of admirers in the stands and thousands watching on television in the US.

Twenty-four years later basketball megastar , another African-American hero, would also be criticised for his actions on a victory podium.

Synonymous with sportswear giant , Jordan draped the American flag over the logo on his official team kit. This was viewed in some quarters as a flagrant expression of the commercialisation of the Olympics.

Evans, on the other hand, was involved in something slightly more profound than the sale of trainers. For him it was the second-class status he and his black team-mates endured back at home.

His actions were criticised by fellow members of the for not matching the bang made by and a few days earlier when they celebrated their 200m medals with perhaps the most iconic political statement in the history of modern sport, a "Black Power" salute.

On the most visible stage, their act of defiance seized the world's attention and raised expectations among civil rights advocates for something spectacular should Evans, who was thought to be more politicised than Smith and Carlos, deliver another golden opportunity for protest.

He certainly did his bit on the track, setting a new world record on his way to victory.

But the sight of Evans and his two team-mates on the podium (it was another stellar Games for the ) taking their berets off as a sign of respect to the flag and anthem - two potent symbols of American values - was not the defining image of a noble struggle for equality many were expecting.

He was later even called "gutless" for making this concession to patriotism. This was grossly unfair to a brave and intelligent man, after all, Smith and Carlos had been thrown out of the Games for their actions and how could he really top their protest for pure political theatre?

His story was told in a 大象传媒 Four documentary last Wednesday (so you can still catch it on iPlayer) called and if we produce a better piece of Olympic-related broadcasting this summer it will have been a very good Games for Auntie.

The programme laid out the historical context for Smith and Carlos's era-defining protest, uncovered fresh anecdotes to explain its continuing impact and revealed the price both paid for their gesture.

It also underlined the absurdity of that most meaningless of clich茅s about keeping . If only that was possible. In reality, politics is as much a part of sport as it is any other human activity - no more, no less.

It would be wonderful to keep politics out of art, the provision of medical care, village fetes and a thousand other things beside, but it ain't going to happen.

And for the Olympic movement to insist otherwise is worse than na茂ve, it's hypocritical. Recent Olympic history reads like a catalogue of political acts and gestures, some sanctioned, some simply tolerated.

Which brings us to the 2008 Games and China, where acts or gestures which in any way criticise the 's policies on a range of issues will neither be sanctioned nor tolerated. That much is clear.

What is not so clear is how successful the Chinese and Olympic authorities will be in clamping down on expressions of dissent, particularly from visiting athletes, officials and politicians.

The prospect of fireworks from the latter appeared to have receded last week when climbed down from the lofty position he had taken on China's policies on Darfur, human rights and Tibet, by saying he would go to the Olympic ball after all.

Confirmation that the president of the , Hans-Gert Poettering, would still boycott the opening ceremony somehow failed to garner a similar amount of column inches.

There is also little chance of any major breaches of Olympic protocol from the international blazerati assembled in Beijing. Nobody serious about a future in sports administration wants to risk upsetting those two monolithic superpowers, the Chinese Communist Party and the .

So supporters of the various causes at play this summer will be looking to the athletes to provide the Smith and Carlos moment: they should probably not get their hopes up too high.

Last week the campaign asked British athletes to express support by making a "T for Tibet" sign with their hands (also the universal symbol for saying "yes, I'd like a brew please"), and this week Australian athletes have been offered T-shirts and badges by the .

But genuine statements of intent from Olympic competitors have been almost non-existent.

Earlier this year, French sports daily asked a range of potential Olympians if they would consider protesting against any of China's more contentious political stances: it found only one would-be Tommie Smith, Norway's handball captain Gro Hammerseng.

From activists in running vests to slam-dunking billboards to apolitical automatons in just 10 Olympiads.

Should we be surprised? Is it fair to expect somebody whose life has been warm-ups and weights sessions to suddenly formulate and give expression to complex political positions? Should we really care what the world's best breaststroker or finest fencer thinks about ?

Given the size of the Games and the issues at stake, it is very unlikely the 17 days of Olympic and 12 days of competition will pass without any kind of protest, but it is also unlikely to take place on a podium or capture the spirit of the times as effectively as the "Black Power" protesters did in Mexico.