When a system is put under unexpected stress, its true efficiency is revealed. Most of the time, it breaks. Sometimes, however, it adapts and creates a new, more effective model. In the world of international sports organization—a sector rife with logistical bloat and legacy inefficiencies—the latter is a genuine outlier. Which is why the recent operational feat in Lima, Peru, is worth a closer look.
For several weeks, the city hosted not one, but two major international judo events back-to-back: the World Junior Championships and the Lima Grand Prix. On the surface, this is a story of national pride and athletic achievement. But peel back celebratory press releases, like the one titled A Double Challenge Met Successfully in Lima, and you find a fascinating case study in crisis management, operational leverage, and the strategic deployment of so-called "soft" assets.
Carlos Zegarra Presser, a Vice-President of the International Judo Federation (IJF) and President of the Panamerican Judo Confederation (PJC), is the architect of this success. His framing of the situation is telling. "Initially, the world championships were supposed to be held elsewhere," he stated. "When the location changed, we decided to host it here... We wanted to be part of the solution."
This isn't the language of a sports promoter; it's the language of a C-suite executive turning a supply chain disruption into a market opportunity. The "challenge," as he calls it, wasn't just about adding a second event to the calendar. It was about absorbing an entirely separate, high-stakes international tournament on short notice and grafting it onto an existing operational plan.
This is where my analysis begins. Running two distinct events sequentially is not an additive process (Cost A + Cost B). It's a complex equation with the potential for either exponential failure or exponential efficiency. Think of it like a manufacturing plant tasked with producing two different car models. Running them on separate assembly lines is the standard, safe, and expensive way. Running them on the same line, one after the other with minimal retooling time, is where fortunes are made or lost. The potential for a catastrophic line-stoppage is immense, but the resource optimization—shared venue, staff, security, and broadcast infrastructure—is a massive force multiplier.
The official report boasts of a "clean and smooth organisational outcome." But what are the key performance indicators for "smooth"? Were there budget overruns? What was the staff attrition or burnout rate over the multi-week period? The provided data focuses on the qualitative success, but the underlying quantitative story of how they leveraged fixed costs across two variable revenue events remains untold. That’s the data I’d want to see.

Zegarra Presser’s account moves from logistics to something more interesting: the management of human capital. He speaks of the immense pressure to meet the IJF's high standards (the de facto global governing body for the sport) and the intense schedule of the traveling IJF team, who arrived from China and were heading to Mexico next.
His solution? "I told our staff we had to take care of them, make them feel at home, part of our family... It’s not only about standards and rules, it’s about the human side."
And this is the part of the report that I find genuinely puzzling—and instructive. In most operational post-mortems, staff welfare is a footnote, an HR-mandated platitude. Here, Zegarra Presser presents it as a core pillar of the strategy. From a purely clinical perspective, this makes perfect sense. The single greatest risk in a high-stress, back-to-back event schedule is human error born from fatigue. A single missed transportation cue, a technical glitch in the scoring system, or a breakdown in security protocol could cascade into total failure. His directive to provide "time, energy and love" wasn't just a nice gesture; it was a calculated investment in operational stability. He was mitigating his biggest risk factor.
This qualitative success is corroborated by a high-value external source: Dr. Paula Pareto, an Argentinian Olympic and world champion who now sits on the International Olympic Committee. Her assessment that both competitions were "excellent" is significant. But her anecdotal observation is even more telling. "I went to the warm-up area and it was wonderful to see old friends and to feel that atmosphere again," she recalls.
You can't fake atmosphere. The ambient stress of a poorly managed event is palpable. You see it in the tense body language of the volunteers, you hear it in the clipped communications over the radio. Pareto, sitting in the stands, could sense the operational calm. Hundreds of athletes, coaches, and officials—or to be more exact, a complex ecosystem of stakeholders from across the globe—were able to focus purely on the competition. This implies the logistical framework beneath them was not just functional, but nearly invisible. That is the hallmark of true operational excellence.
The question, then, is whether this model is scalable or a one-off success story driven by a specific leader in his home country. Can this "Lima Method"—turning a scheduling crisis into an efficiency gain by explicitly valuing human capital as a hedge against operational risk—be replicated? Or does it rely too heavily on a charismatic leader's personal investment and home-field advantage?
Let's be clear. The primary output of these events was a set of athletic results. But the most valuable product created in Lima was the proof-of-concept. It demonstrated that a national federation, with smart collaboration and a focus on core operational principles, can punch far above its weight. By stacking events, they leveraged their fixed costs and turned a potential disaster into a strategic masterstroke. The true return on investment here isn't measured in gold medals for Peru, but in the creation of a new, hyper-efficient playbook for how to host international sports. It’s a model built not just on process, but on the understanding that the human element is not a liability to be managed, but the most critical asset in the entire system.