It is also somewhat clinical, as institutional statements tend to be, when the situation it describes is one in which a man’s athletic achievements were removed from history by an institution that violated its own rules, maintained the removal for decades, offered partial correction that preserved a “sports absurdity” of two co-champions, and required another forty years and a campaign by his grandson’s generation to complete the correction.

Jim Thorpe did not need the IOC to tell him he had won.

“I won ’em, and I know I won ’em,” he had said.

He died knowing that.

The documentation of what he knew took considerably longer.

The score that stands in the record — 8,412 points, July 15, 1912, Stockholm — is the most durable thing he left behind.

It is there now.