Quite an absorbing read though to be honest, in a rather predictably and superficial way. Behind the exceptional athletic achievement of Mo Farah’s story, there are at least three important sub-plots, but each one of them is dealt with in only the most cursory of ways. A pity. Like all highly successful athletes, you suspect there is a rather special, unique and complex human being at work, but the agents, the ghost writers and the sponsors are keen not to allow that person too much oxygen. Anyone that can dedicate that much focused energy to an all-consuming single endeavour is, by definition, a bit special and worthy of our attention. Most of us get distracted along the way, but to Farah’s credit, he just keeps on getting better and better.

But let’s now consider the three sub-plots that, to the detriment to the Mo Farah story, were insufficiently explored.

The troubled youth

Soon after his arrival in the UK, Mo became a troubled and troublesome kid. There are hundreds of thousands of such kids in Britain today. Some are from immigrant families and some are home grown. The grim reality is that most of these youngsters eventually fall by the wayside and end up in dead-end jobs, on soul-sapping state benefits, or worse still, sucked up into the criminal justice system. For many, gang culture becomes a substitute in the absence of something more fulfilling. For an increasing number, street violence and even an untimely death awaits. Mo Farah could easily have been in this predicament had it not been for the foresight and humanity of his PE teacher.

So what lessons can be learnt from Mo’s story? I think it is fair to assume that virtually all students start off life with a natural curiosity and a desire to learn. You could say it’s in our DNA. And most kids, even by the age of secondary school, are interested or skilled in at least one thing. But we don’t look for that interest or skill, and if we do happen to notice it, we invariably fail to value it. Our bog-standard school system, fixated as it is with meaningless exam scores, actually works against nurturing these indigenous interests and skills.

What so many children from immigrant families have, from an early age, is a degree of bilingualism. That should be a great starting point for any student, but invariably this skill is overlooked and discarded all part and parcel of our Euro-centrism. If we were to systematically value that multilingualism, so prevalent in our inner-city schools, many students who would otherwise be dismissed as failing, would develop a far greater self-esteem at a crucial moment in their lives. Mo explains that he was not only without English language skills but also dyslexic. Perhaps. But he was presumably fluent in his native Somali tongue, with perhaps a smattering of other regional languages, so why not develop that valuable asset as an educational starting point?

Some learning, particularly maths and IT are not heavily dependent on language, so allow immigrant students to learn in their own tongue while they are naturally absorbing English. Certainly it would take extra resources, but in the age of on-line learning, the creation of suitable software should make the job inherently do-able. In this way thousands of students like Mo Farah would find themselves switched on rather than switched off. Similarly, most youngsters have a keen interest in popular culture, be it sport, music, drama, dance or fashion. Start with that interest, nurture that interest, and the results can be dramatic.

Why do schools rarely make use of the natural resources at their disposal? Imagine teaching a unit of integrated humanities about the Horn of Africa using anecdotes from their Somalian, Ethiopian and Eritrean students. The lessons would become electric and have the further advantage of engaging immigrant students who all too often struggle with the euro-centric curriculum. Mo hints at this lost educational opportunity but only in the most understated way. Perhaps in a later edition of his autobiography he may well feel more confident to explore his unfulfilled school days.

Whose nation?

The second untold story hovering just below the surface of Mo Farah’s sporting life is the vexed and increasingly controversial question of sport and nationality. I’ve witnessed at first-hand how China’s legions of brilliant table tennis players have fanned out across the globe in search of lucrative opportunities to continue their playing careers. Now we are witnessing this phenomenon in many other sports, including the East African long distance runners. And even those still representing the country of their birth, like Andy Murray for example, are often forced to live and train overseas in order to fully realise their sporting potential. And of course we witness every day how the big European football clubs make a mockery of local allegiance by scouring the planet in search of promising talent. Then they use their mega bucks to hoover up that talent at the detriment of the developing world. European colonialism still alive and kicking. It’s happening in all sports. England’s recent spell of good form on the cricket pitch is largely down to their South African imports. In this age of corporate globalisation we can expect this trend of nationality hopping to accelerate.

All this points to the utter meaninglessness of national medal counts. The usual immigrant maligning Tories whipped up a storm of Olympic triumphalism last year, conveniently forgetting that much of that success was based on the heroics of immigrants or the sons and daughters of immigrants. Temporarily, the definition of being British was expediently relaxed. A few months later came the giant Tory posters, emblazoned on lorries, telling migrants to go back home!

Mo Farah was born in Somaliland, spent some of his youth in Djibouti, began his running career in Britain, conducted much of his high altitude training in Kenya, and perfected his running strategy and tactics in the US. Who then should claim the glory?

The answer of course is to forget about nationality altogether and to salute and honour the individual athlete. We are still a million miles away from that philosophically and politically rational position but a mature discussion of the issue would have made Mo’s autobiography a little more cerebral, a little more engaging. Again, he nibbles around the edges of the matter but is careful not to offend anyone, particularly his sponsors. Wise man.

Don’t mention the war

Finally, there is the back story of the war ravaged countries of Somalia, Eritrea and Ethiopia. And more recently, Kenya too is being drawn into the vortex. What could Mo Farah realistically have said about his war torn homeland given that his home nation is now the UK and his main sponsor is US based Nike? There is no doubting Mo’s humanity given his tireless efforts, via his charitable foundation, to make a humanitarian difference in the region. But there is no escaping the fact that, like much of the African continent, the debilitating tribal and religious disputes have been exacerbated by centuries of colonial meddling and outright exploitation. Mo says not a single word on this front.

I did enjoy Mo’s Twin Ambitions far more than I expected. There’s something endearingly honest about the man, or at least that is how he is portrayed by his ghost writer. Perhaps when all his running is done, he will produce a gutsier memoir, but then again, his likely ambassadorial role may once again prevent him, like many other great athletes before him, from truly opening up. I conclude with a simple request; will the real Mo Farah please step forward.