Boris Onischenko — The Sword That Scored Without Touching Anyone

At the 1976 Montreal Olympics, the Soviet modern pentathlete Boris Onischenko was caught using a sword that could record a hit on its own, without touching anyone, and was disqualified on the spot. On July 19, 1976, during the fencing round of the men’s competition, officials examined his épée and found it had been illegally modified: a concealed switch wired into the grip let him close the electronic scoring circuit by hand and light up the “touch” signal whenever he chose, regardless of whether his blade had landed. He was ejected from the Games immediately, and because a modern-pentathlon team needs three competitors, the Soviet team was scratched from the team event entirely. The press, never one to waste a pun, renamed him “Disonischenko.”

The fraud was as audacious as the equipment was crude. In épée fencing a valid hit is detected electronically: when the blade’s tip is depressed against the opponent with sufficient force, it closes a circuit and triggers a light. Onischenko had wired a hidden button or switch into the grip of his weapon that closed that same circuit independently of the tip, so that a discreet squeeze of his hand registered a touch that his blade had never made. It was a way to win exchanges he had lost — or never fenced at all — by quietly voting for himself with his thumb.

The man caught doing this was no chancer. Onischenko was one of the finest pentathletes of his era, an Olympic medalist who had won individual silver and team gold at Munich in 1972, an established Soviet army officer at the top of a demanding five-discipline sport. He did not need to cheat to be excellent; he cheated to be certain. The cost was everything: a lifetime ban, his name turned into a joke in every language with a newspaper, and a quiet return to Kyiv where the former Olympic medalist reportedly drove a taxi. What follows is how a champion came to carry a rigged weapon into an Olympic arena, and how the team he victimized caught him and went on to win the gold.

Michel Pollentier — A Bulb of Clean Urine, a Tube, and a Yellow Jersey Thrown Off the Tour

On July 16, 1978, the Belgian cyclist Michel Pollentier won the queen stage of the Tour de France atop Alpe d’Huez, pulled on the yellow jersey of the race leader, and was thrown off the Tour the same evening — not for failing a drug test, but for being caught at the doping control with a rubber bulb of someone else’s clean urine concealed under his armpit, fed by a tube to fake the sample. The Tour’s organisers expelled him, and the sport’s governing body, the Union Cycliste Internationale, fined him 5,000 Swiss francs and suspended him for two months. The verdict on record is the expulsion, and the act that produced it was the deception apparatus itself: Pollentier was not sanctioned for what was in his body, but for the elaborate rig built to hide it.

The mechanism was a feat of nervous engineering. Riders at the dope control were required to produce a urine sample under observation, and Pollentier arrived equipped to defeat the observation rather than the test. Strapped under his arm was a small rubber bulb — described variously as a pear or, less politely, a condom — filled in advance with clean urine, connected by a thin tube that ran down inside his clothing to the point of supposed delivery. By squeezing his arm against his body he could express the borrowed urine into the bottle and present a sample that was guaranteed to pass, because it had never been near his own metabolism. It was the analogue ancestor of every later attempt to substitute or tamper with a doping sample.

What undid him was not the device but a colleague’s clumsiness with the same trick. A French rider at the control, Antoine Gutierrez, fumbled with his own concealed apparatus and drew the suspicion of the doctor on duty, who, having caught one rider rigged for fraud, checked the others — and found Pollentier identically equipped. The yellow jersey was gone within hours, the first race leader expelled from the Tour over a doping-control matter. What follows is how the leader of the world’s greatest bike race tried to outwit a man with a clipboard, and lost on his single best day.