The English Schools’ Athletics Association turns 100 this week — and the athletes it produced, from Jessica Ennis-Hill to Mo Farah, say it’s still the UK’s best talent factory.
Georgia Hunter-Bell knows the grind. She’s felt the mud squish under her spikes at some windswept school field. She’s watched the clock count down at the English Schools’ Championships. And now, she’s stood on a podium at the Diamond League in Stockholm with an Olympic bronze to her name. If anyone’s proof that grassroots sports still matter, it’s her.
On Saturday, the English Schools’ Athletics Association (ESSA) celebrates its 100th birthday. For a century, the volunteer-run group has quietly done the kind of work that changes lives — one 800m heat at a time.
ESSA’s Long Legacy of British Greats
You’d be hard-pressed to name a British track and field icon who hasn’t passed through the gates of ESSA competition at some point. For Mo Farah, it was one of his first real tastes of elite-level pressure. Same for Kelly Holmes, Greg Rutherford, Jessica Ennis-Hill, and so many others.
That’s no fluke.
ESSA’s structured events — county, regional, and national — don’t just introduce kids to real racing conditions. They build character.
“The nerves you feel lining up for an English Schools’ final at 15 are just like what you get on the Olympic track,” says Hunter-Bell, now 23. “That’s where I learned how to compete — not just run fast.”
Across its century, the association has seen more than 250,000 young athletes pass through. Many peaked at county level. A few made it to the Olympics. But nearly all say the experience stuck with them.
The Numbers Tell the Story
It’s easy to romanticize grassroots sport. But ESSA has data behind it. They’ve kept meticulous records, and it turns out the link between school-level competition and national-level success is a lot tighter than many think.
That’s not just a pipeline. It’s a lifeline for UK Athletics.
Many of these athletes weren’t spotted through private clubs or elite academies. They were discovered racing in county kits on muddy fields, cheered on by parents with thermoses and foldable chairs.
One paragraph here, just one sentence: Those weekends built champions.
Saturday’s 100-Year Bash Isn’t Just a Nostalgia Fest
This weekend, Birmingham’s Alexander Stadium — site of last year’s Commonwealth Games — will host 100 former champions for ESSA’s centenary celebration. The guest list is stacked: Dame Kelly Holmes, Dame Denise Lewis, Alan Pascoe MBE, Sonia Lannaman MBE, and more.
Some are flying in from abroad. Others are bringing their kids — future hopefuls? Maybe.
There’ll be panels, relays, speeches, and a display of archive photos dating back to the 1930s. There’s even a time capsule being buried on-site, filled with spikes, medals, and handwritten notes from current teenage competitors.
“We didn’t want this to be just about history,” said ESSA president Tom Bradley. “We want it to inspire the next wave.”
A one-sentence paragraph here again: And they mean it.
Budget Cuts, Big Dreams — and a Whole Lot of Grit
ESSA’s longevity is, frankly, a miracle.
The organisation receives no direct government funding. It runs on volunteers — mostly PE teachers, retired coaches, and ex-athletes who remember what it gave them. Rising costs, fewer buses, tighter school budgets — all of it makes things harder every year.
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Over 60% of participating counties report struggling to fund travel to nationals
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Volunteer numbers have dipped 30% since 2019
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More than 70% of schools rely on local fundraising to enter ESSA events
Yet the association pushes on, mostly because no one else is doing this work. It bridges that awkward middle — between playground sports and national academy programmes — where raw talent often blooms.
Without ESSA, many of Britain’s medalists might’ve never made it past their own postcode.
Hunter-Bell’s Story Mirrors ESSA’s Purpose
Georgia Hunter-Bell’s 800m bronze in Stockholm wasn’t just a personal win. It was a signal that Britain’s development pipeline is still alive, even in an era where funding often goes to already-established stars.
“I had no clue what I was doing at my first county meet,” she laughs. “Didn’t even warm up right. But I learned. ESSA taught me how to race. How to lose. And how to come back.”
She credits her PE teacher — Mr. Collins from a Sheffield comprehensive — for dragging her to her first regional heat. “He said, ‘You’re fast. You’ve got to run this.’ I didn’t argue.”
Now she’s one of the UK’s top-ranked middle-distance runners under 25.
A one-line paragraph again: That’s the ripple effect.
Not Just Sport — It’s a Social Equalizer
Beyond medals, there’s another legacy ESSA quietly leaves behind — access.
For kids from working-class backgrounds or underfunded schools, these competitions are often their only shot at being seen by national selectors.
Hunter-Bell didn’t train with a private coach until she was 19. Until then, it was all school track, local races, and ESSA.
“There’s a real magic to being told you’re good by someone who isn’t your mum,” she jokes. “It changes how you see yourself.”
And that confidence, nurtured on a school track in Yorkshire or Cornwall or East London, sometimes turns into something much bigger.
