Why the records have kept plunging

The pool

When it comes to building a swimming complex for the Olympics, one objective invariably unites all those involved: to produce the fastest pool in the world.

Nearly 20 world records had been broken in the Homebush pool in two months leading up to the games, exciting the world's best swimmers into the belief that times they had only dreamed of had suddenly become attainable. "In this pool you feel awesome," said the American Dara Torres, who at 33 has swum in a few.

But to what extent is this a matter of psychology? Until world records began to fall in the Pan Pacific championships, Homebush had been regarded as state-of-the-art but slow. Australians even spoke fondly of the old North Sydney pool, an unpretentious 60-year-old venue protected by the National Trust and filled with a mixture of salt and freshwater to aid buoyancy.

North Sydney produced 88 world records, which itself was claimed as a world record. But no one really considered why. Now that the mystique has passed to Homebush, pool technology is taking the credit.

The main aim of the pool designers has been to reduce turbulence, allowing a swimmer to cut through the water more quickly. The string of world records might have caused ripples, but the pool has remained wonderfully calm.

The pool is 10 lanes wide rather than the traditional eight, and is filled brim-full so that waves do not rebound much from the walls. This particularly assists swimmers in the two outside lanes, although as the slowest qualifiers they have made little impact. But the pool is not unique in this respect; for example Sheffield's Ponds Forge offers the same advantages.

The depth of the pool is at least 2.5 metres (8.2ft) throughout, so that turbulence does not rebound from the floor. The minimum for Olympic Games and world championships is 2m.

The walls and floors have been designed with the smoothest texture to minimise drag. Even the lane ropes are designed to minimise wash between lanes.

Fast starts were also wanted. Rubber on top of the blocks gives swimmers no fear of overbalancing, which could contribute to a false start and disqualification. The blocks are no longer flat but have been angled towards the pool. Hand rails, now legitimate aids, provide for an additional push from the blocks.

Then there is the water itself. When the likes of Popov and Thorpe talk about swimming fast by seducing the water, they should at least be allowed to seduce some of the purest water in the world. Homebush water could come bottled. It is double-filtered, first through sand carbon to rid it of impurities, then through ozone, which vastly reduces the need for the chlorine and therefore makes the water so much more pleasant to swim in.

But don't expect your local pool to adopt the ozone method. Ozone is a corrosive gas. That meant a bill of nearly £1m a month before the games to replace the filtration pipes. World records do not come cheaply.

The bodysuits

Alex Popov, one of the greatest sprinters in swimming history, has no time for the bodysuits which have become one of the enduring images of the Sydney games. "I have my own skin," he says. But he is virtually alone among the sprinters who have dominated the games. Even Eric the Eel, the Equatorial Guinea swimmer Eric Moussambani who floundered through his solo swim in the 100m freestyle heats and achieved instant fame as a result, received an inevitable donation.

For Eric the Eel, it should at least reduce the risk of drowning. For the elite, the bodysuit has theoretically enhanced performances by reducing drag through the water and therefore cutting fatigue.

As the 20th century developed and prudishness gradually departed, skin was in. Swimwear became skimpier, and more erotic. Now swimmers compete in a variety of costumes that bear a vague resemblance to those plunging into the Bay of Zea in Athens in 1896.

The neck-to-toe bodysuit - Ian Thorpe wears Adidas's version - has not quite proved as popular as anticipated. Many swimmers have opted for a sleeveless version, some with the leggings cut off at the knee.

The freestyle and butterfly swimmers have adopted the suit most enthusiastically. Male backstrokers such as Lenny Krayzelburg have preferred, by and large, to remain bare-chested in the belief that the suits inhibit shoulder rotation. Many breaststrokers have also remained faithful to traditional costumes so as not to restrict their leg kicks.

There is also talk of huge time improvements worldwide in veterans' events, presumably because middle-age spread is repositioned more aerodynamically.

At £200 a time the suits are not cheap. But the three leading manufacturers - Speedo, whose FastSkin is the most eye-catching design, Adidas and Arena - expect to make a killing. The bodysuit's design owes much to the shark. Whether that refers to the fish or the marketing men depends on your point of view.

The crowds

Susie O'Neill, the grand dame of Australian swimming, said the clamour from the Homebush crowd affected her concentration. That is a minority view. Capacity crowds of 17,000 have produced an atmosphere beyond that ever experienced at a major swimming meet. A procession of medallists have pronounced themselves inspired by the atmosphere. If you can hear the noise you can't feel the hurt. Anyway, any football follower worth his salt knows that shouting and singing makes a difference. Otherwise, why on earth would we do it? But the South African Terence Parkin won a breaststroke silver, and he is deaf.

Funding and coaching

Inge de Bruijn was so bored with swimming five or six hours a day that she walked out of the Dutch team in Atlanta. In Sydney, her freestyle times have beggared belief. She credits her improvement to out-of-water training, and the use of rope ladders, weights, martial arts (budding champions should check out Tae-bo). She also swims with shoes on to add drag.

Dietary advice has improved, and masses of technological data now exist among the leading nations to assist coaches. The Australians, for instance, concluded that, for the best freestylists, length of body and length of stroke is essential. Then along came Pieter van den Hoogenband, shorter and more explosive, to confound them.

Government funding, and sponsorship, have also provided a professional environment. De Bruijn and Van den Hoogenband benefit from the Netherlands swimming foundation set up by Van den Hoogenband's parents. Many elite swimmers can now put in the obsessional daily training hours at high-class facilities, available as much as they want, when they want.

Drugs

The great imponderable. Drug testing has never been more efficient. The Chinese, the most blatant offenders, were scuppered long before a games in which they have still to win a swimming medal, largely because of positive tests for steroid abuse. The improved times of Netherlands and Italian swimmers, in particular, have been staggering, but as the American Gary Hall Jr says of Van den Hoogenband: "You can't suspect a guy just because he swims fast."

The Americans have adopted an aggressive response. Glen Luepnitz, a Texan cancer specialist, has been giving food supplements to all their swimmers. He says the aim of this regimented vitamin programme is "to beat the cheaters without doing anything remotely illegal".

Hall swears by horsebars, a food supplement on which Fusaichi Pegasus won the Kentucky Derby; perhaps that explains those prominent teeth. Some prefer glutamine.

The aim is to boost the body's human growth hormone overnight by as much as four times the normal rate. That enables the body to rebuild faster, and wards off fatigue in the later stages of races. As for the British, Paul Palmer has always claimed that the use of vitamin supplements is morally wrong.