England expands DiSE 2026-28: one more layer dug, the gem still lies beneath

In my worn leather notebook, the June 2026 page still carries the crooked ink marks about a 15-year-old boy with dyed blond hair at Lach Tray stadium. Three years later, he tore his ACL in a training match played in front of empty stands, then had his contract terminated mid-COVID. Some nine thousand kilometres away, Table Tennis England has just announced 18 young athletes joining the Diploma in Sporting Excellence (DiSE) programme for the 2026-28 cycle, lifting the total cohort to 36 – the largest in the programme's history. I no longer read such press releases the way I did a year ago. The topsoil has been trampled by studded boots, but what we need still lies undisturbed beneath. DiSE is a distinctly British sporting qualification: a dual-career programme that fuses academic study with high-performance training, aimed at teenage athletes who can meet elite demands while preserving a career pathway beyond the table. The 2026-28 cycle is run by Table Tennis England in partnership with SportsAid – the charity that administers athlete-funding programmes on behalf of Sport England – and SGS College as the academic provider. The intake comprises 18 new faces, raising the total to 36, more than any previous cycle. Four names are cited explicitly: Bly Twomey, a Paralympic medallist; and three juniors who have represented England at the European Youth Championships – Abraham Sellado, Kacper Piwowar and Adam Alibhai. Athletes are drawn from across the Home Nations – England, Scotland, Wales and Northern Ireland – rather than from England alone. The programme runs five camps per academic year, plus one international camp between Year 1 and Year 2, and the possibility of international competition during Year 2. Students complete eight units in the current year and four more in 2027/28. Content goes well beyond on-table training: it includes anti-doping education, nutrition, lifestyle, and modules on cultures, values and behaviours. Graduates also receive a Coaching Assistant qualification and a first-aid certificate, while accumulating UCAS points toward university applications. Selection runs through an open application process. Paul Johnson is the DiSE Programme Lead; Natalie Green holds the Head of Pathway role, but her title carries the word Interim. This is where I open the notebook. The first figure to examine is the pace of expansion. The previous cycle began with 15 athletes, then added three more, reaching 18. The current cycle takes in 18 new athletes directly, lifting the total to 36. The programme's scale has doubled in a single cycle. In the economics of national federations, that is a capacity signal, not yet a quality signal. Capacity says a new kiln has been built. Quality says there is now another potter. They are different things, and the press release only proves the first. The second point of interest lies in the programme's two-track structure. The four named athletes split into two distinct groups. Bly Twomey is identified by her Paralympic medal – she competes within the para table tennis classification system, a competitive structure and ranking ecosystem wholly separate from the able-bodied WTT tour. The other three are identified by having worn England colours at the European Youth Championships – the junior branch of the able-bodied system. These two tracks should not be conflated when modelling performance. The organisers merged them into a single list, partly to emphasise inclusion, partly for communications value. But in terms of competitive benchmarking, a Paralympic medal cannot be placed beside a European youth championship berth. Here a paradox surfaces. Twomey, as a Paralympic medallist, is in pure competitive terms somewhat over-qualified for a development diploma. Her participation in DiSE may serve a different function: dual-career education, second-career building, and role-modelling. That is a strategically sound choice, but it says something: this list is not a pure talent-identification document. It is a blend of selection and showcase. The third name worth pausing on is the word Interim attached to the Head of Pathway role. In the world of national federations, a pathway leadership post formally unfilled while the federation doubles its intake is a small but real signal. Interim appointments tend to appear when a permanent candidate has not been settled, or when strategic direction is in transition. Doubling the programme's scale while its spearhead remains provisional raises a question: is this expansion steered by a long-term vision, or by a cycle carried forward by its own momentum? Then comes the question of money. The entire expansion rests on SportsAid's and Sport England's decision to allocate a record number of places. That is a moving foundation. A funding cycle cut, a shift in policy priorities, and the figure of 36 quietly recedes. In my files I always mark this kind of risk in red: it is dependency risk, not competitive risk. It never shows on the table, but it decides who gets to sit at it. The fourth aspect few notice: UCAS points. The emphasis on university credit suggests the programme targets academically oriented athletes – typically from middle-class families able to pursue a degree alongside sport. That is a sensible choice for retaining talent within the British system, but it also narrows the net. Children on the margins, families without the means to pursue higher education, may fall beyond reach. The multi-agency structure – national federation, SportsAid, SGS College – is a mature model of the British sports industry. It reminds me of what I once wrote about Tu. In Vietnam, a 15-year-old talent like that boy passes through one academy, signs one contract, and when injury strikes there is no safety net behind him. No fallback qualification, no university credit, no charity to hold him up. I find myself at 19 again inside a ball boy on the outer court. The difference between the two systems is not in the young talent – it lies in what is built around that talent. At 56, I realise I read this kind of news differently now. I do not look for future stars on the list. I look for structure: who pays, who is accountable, who can withdraw. An empty stand lays bare the cracks that years have plastered over. Read the organisers' quotes closely and a familiar line of reasoning appears: more and more players are being given the opportunity, a record number of places was awarded, the recognition is deserved. All of it is an argument about quantity. Not one sentence addresses conversion – how many senior internationals earlier DiSE cohorts produced, how many continental championship berths, how many faces reaching national squads. A programme that doubles its size without publishing a conversion rate cannot yet be called a success; it can only be called expanded. Do not misread me. This expansion is useful. Every extra place is an extra chance for a child who might otherwise have nothing. But I have written about a Vietnamese boy whom a medal could not save from injury and contract termination. I know the price of shouting record when there is no safety net behind it. More places do not mean better fates. They only mean more fates placed at stake. Do not ask what a young player is; ask what he or she will fossilise into. The DiSE 2026-28 cycle overlaps the Los Angeles 2028 Olympic cycle. If all goes to design, these young athletes will enter the final selection window of that cycle with international experience in hand. But dreams do not leave; they settle into sediment, waiting for another rain. The question I leave behind is not for the organisers but for us: four years from now, how many of those 36 students will still be standing at the table – and how many will remain only a line in a report?