Olympic Stream of Consciousness: Swimming

In the Women's 100m breastroke, there is 0.5 of a second separating the top six places. Tatjana Smith (formerly Schoenmaker) from South Africa wins her country's first swimming Olympic gold medal in full make-up, jewellery, false eyelashes and false nails - you've got to look good in the pool as well as on the podium! Incidentally, I wish the commentators would stop refering to those who don't win gold as getting 'minor medals'. It sounds so dismissive of elite athletic achievement. I'd also like it if they didn't say the competitors were 'quite literally flying in the pool' (are they penguins?), but I suspect I'm hoping for too much there. Swimming from lane one, Matthew Richards gets silver for GB in the Men's 200m freestyle final. Ian Thorpe's commentary is calm, considered and intelligent, and he points out this was the closest final in Olympic history, with 0.02 seconds between first (David Popvici, ROU) and second place, and a further 0.05 seconds to third (Luke Robson, USA). Duncan Scott, also GBR was fourth, a mere 0.08 seconds behind. In the Men's 100m backstroke, eight different nationalities are represented (and they all finish within 0.84 of a second), but there are no Australians in the race, so we move swiftly on.

The Frenchman Leon Marchand is competing in both the butterfly and breastroke, so they changed the order of events for him. If you're good at swimming, you can pick up a lot of medals as there are more events than in most disciplines (35 in fact), which is why many countries subsidise the sport so heavily. In the 200m butterfly he sets a new Olympic record - the Hungarian, Kristof Milak, was leading until the last 20m - and the crowd goes wild. What an athlete! I'm loving the headgear on many of the crowd - mainly rooster hats. I'm not going to say they are cock-heads. Apparently the camera operators have been told not to focus solely on totty-cam, so we are shown a range of supporters, rather than over-made-up young women in tight clothing, which is refreshing.

Meanwhile, in the Men's 200m breaststroke Marchand leads the whole way with another Olympic record. Australia's Izaac Stubblety Cook gains silver, with possibly the best name in swimming. There is another new Olympic record set in the 100m freestyle by Zhanle Pan (CHI), and Kyle Chalmers (AUS) gives a very gracious interview after finishing second. The commentators question whether this is a fast or slow pool, and I honestly have no idea what that means - I don't think they do either. There is an incredibly close finish in the Men's 50m Freestyle - in which no one breathes - where there is 0.4 of a second between the whole field and 0.05 of a second between gold (Cameron Mcevoy from AUS) and silver (Benjamin Proud from GBR). The French come third with Florent Manaudou, getting their fourth consecutive medal in the pool.

Another Olympic record is set in the Women's 200m backstroke, won by Australia's Kaylee McKeown, and again in the Men's 200m Individual Medley (FRA/ GBR/ CHN), where Leon Marchand gets his third gold - he's on target for the four from four he set himself. The crowd are beside themselves and on his breaststroke laps they yell 'Allez!' every time he raises his head out of the water - I'm not sure if he can hear or not, but the noise is formidable. Milak Kristoff wins the Men's 100m butterfly for Hungary in see-through short (you can look that up yourself if you like) and there is drama in the Women's 200m Individual Medley where Alex Walsh of the USA initially looks to have taken third until it is judged that she rolled too early in her transition from backstroke to breaststroke and so she is disqualified and Australian Kaylee McKeown sneaks onto the podium with a bronze (Summer Mcintosh gold for CAN; Kate Douglass silver for USA).

There are only three letters on the leaderboard after the Women's 800m final (USA/AUS/USA). Katie Ledecky pushes others to greatness (Ariarne Titmus wins silver, and Paige Madden gets bronze) - the commentators use metaphors of boxing, fighting and aggression, but it's super-friendly hugs and smiles all round form the athletes themselves. Gretchen Walsh from USA has an amazing butterfly leg to help the Americans achieve a new world record and gold medal in the Women's 4 x 100m Medley Relay (USA/CHI/AUS). In the Women's 50m freestyle, Sarah Sjöström from Sweden, who already has the World record, finishes half a body length ahead of the rest of the field, and that's a lot in this event. Meg Harris (AUS) finishes with a silver, which is her only individual race at these games, and China's Zhang Yufei takes bronze and takes to the podium with a panda ears headband (she has another five medals at this Olympics).

There are lots more violent combat metaphors for the Men's 1500m freestyle from the commentators (distance duel; slugfest etc.), and it is won by Robert Finke (USA) who leads from start to finish in a world record time with great turns and massive power, with Italy second and Daniel Wiffen of Ireland emerging with bronze. The commentator helpfully points out ''This is the bell lap; someone at the end of each lane rings an actual bell!" I think there may have been too many chlorine fumes inhaled. In the men's 4x100m medley, teams are allowed to bring in new swimmers who did not compete in the heats. France come third and the crowd goes wild.

China win gold (USA are second) and many people are not happy about that due to doping controversies, including Adam Peaty who has commented that he doesn't believe Zhanle Pan's results are humanly possible, but he was part of the GBR team that came fourth, so who knows? Thank goodness they've dropped the crotch shots from previous Olympic Games in the Women's 4x 100 medley (or any race that begins with backstroke). The USA win in a new world record (2:AUS, 3:CHI) so it's not that slow a pool after all. And finally, after nine days of racing in the pool, perhaps the Australian coverage can focus on something other than swimming. I'm looking forward to heading to the track, the nautical stadium, the velodrome and the streets of Paris! 

And just for a late entrant, the 10km open water swim is not a great spectator sport. It's also, confusingly, called a marathon when it clearly isn't - apparently this is because it takes about the same length of time to compete as a marathon. As the swimmers come through the feeding station they receive bottles filled with hyrdalytes and caffeine attached to 5m poles with national flags so they know which ones to grab - it all looks like a competitive fishing exercise. The swimmers then roll over onto their backs to consume the nutrition, looking like weird otters. 

Some of them smash into the wall and the overhanging vegetation. The whistle action from the referees reminds me of the gendarmes we used to torment when I was a teenager by daring to sit on the grass in the park for a picnic. They would toot their whistles, wave their arms and shout 'pas sur la pelouse' as they went red in the face. My, how we laughed, like the wild rebels we were. In the women's event, Sharon Van Rouwendaal from NED wins in 2:03:34 from Moesha Johnson (AUS) in 2:03:39, after Johnson led most of the way. You'd think she might be a bit peeved, but she just looks thankful it is over to be honest.

Friday Five: Summer

Apparently it's official: summer is here. It starts on the 1st of December, so I am told. So it seemed appropriate to do this:

5 Best Things About Summer:

1. Long evenings - it doesn't matter what you do with them (go for a bike ride; take the dog for a walk; meet friends in a beer garden; sit on the patio with a good book) - it's just nice not to come home from work and straight-away have to light the fire, close the curtains and turn the lights on. It feels like a time for leisure
2. Summer fruit - strawberries; raspberries; cherries; peaches; apricots; nectarines; plums - even better when you live in Central Otago!
3. Summer sport - although I now live in New Zealand, summer sport to me is always the sound of Wimbledon tennis on the tele (of course, it's shown in the middle of winter here) and test cricket. Every two years we alternate between the Olympic Games and the World Cup, so we get festivals of sporting passion - love it
4. Parliamentary Recess - at least a month without having to listen to pontificating politicians pretend to give celebrity soundbites - 'news' stories about kittens stuck up trees and the world's largest knitted rabbit are a small price to pay
5. Outdoor swimming - rivers; lakes; sea - it's so much better than swimming in a pool

Lake Hayes Women's Triathlon

The day of the Lake Hayes Women’s Triathlon was beautiful and sunny, dammit, so I couldn’t use the weather as an excuse not to enter!

I’ve done it a couple of times before – a long time ago when I was fit (2003 & 2004). Now I’m really not and it hurts to know that I had it and then I lost it. If ever there was a supportive and encouraging way to try and get back into it, however, it is the Southern Lakes Women’s Triathlon.

This is its 18th year and also incorporates a duathlon for those without the time or inclination to add another discipline to their training regime. In the past, starts have been fierce (I have been scratched, gouged, had my goggles kicked off and received a nosebleed) so it was a welcome addition to have two starts for the swimmers. We began on either side of the big tree and there were two buoys out in the lake so those on the left could swim round one and those on the right picked out the other.

I had swum in the lake the previous week and found that it was plenty warm enough. Also, the distance is only 300m so at current fitness levels, that should take me approximately 8 – 9 minutes. It takes me about that long to wrestle myself out of my wetsuit, so I decided not to wear it. The water really was fine and although my feet went numb, they always do.

The run up to the bikes is the toughest part of the course – you’ve just come out of the water; you’re disorientated; you’re not breathing properly and you’re faced with a gravel hill to run up in bare (numb) feet. Because the entrance and exit point is the same, there was a flag to run around to make sure that everyone went the same distance. My transition was not too bad and I was soon on to my bike and out on the course. Here I merged with all the other disciplines – those who had paddled kayaks and those who had run 1½km as a start to their duathlon.

The bike ride begins with a gravel track that I travelled over very gingerly – I don’t want to puncture my tyres at the very beginning of the bike leg. (One girl got three punctures on this ride.) This would be the only 100 yards or so where I would have been pleased to be riding a mountain bike.

When I watched the World Triathlon Champions in 2003 (the swim was right here in this lake), a Canadian girl in mid-race mode yelled out at us, ‘Where’s the mountain lion?’ At least that’s what I thought she said – it made some sort of sense that in her adrenalin-fuelled delirium she thought she was back home and being pursued by big bobcats. It turns out she was asking the whereabouts of the ‘mount line’ – the point at which you are officially meant to get on and off your bike. I think of this every time I do a triathlon now, and it makes me smile – you find your pleasure where you can...

I like the bike ride on this course – there are no hills, which is always a positive for me. Today there was no wind and the speeds could crank up quite high. Generally drafting is illegal in triathlons so, although this event was pretty low-key in that regard and no mention was made of it in the briefing, I decided against doing it. Not so a couple of others (the only person who passed me on the bike leg did so after sitting on my wheel for a good third of the leg) but that’s up to them.

Back having racked the bike, changed shoes and run round the flag again, it was off on the run leg. Now, this does have hills. It’s on a section of the excellent track that circumnavigates Lake Hayes. By now it was hot and the gravel track was dusty, making it hard to breathe, and it felt like a bit of a struggle.

I was pleased to take on some water at the turnaround. Incidentally, there was a bottle of water in our race packs, but I would have preferred cups at the finish – when you cross the line on a hot day you want a drink immediately, not after you’ve found your vehicle and rummaged around in your bag. This is merely a minor quibble – everything else about the event was very well organised.

I walk around this lake nearly every Friday with my friend and I never think it is particularly tough. Admittedly we usually stop to throw sticks for her dopey dog, and there wasn’t a lot of that going on today. The views are still breathtakingly scenic, however, which could be another handy excuse for lack of breath.

I am not a runner and admire those who are – some of these ladies were skipping past me on the way back when I was grinding my way out. They looked fresh and shiny in their running kit while I was a heaving sweaty lump, and I was gasping by the time I thankfully saw the finishing chute.

We waited and applauded as others came in – each with their own personal achievement. That’s what I like about this event; everyone has a goal and they are all different.

Some are national triathletes down from Auckland to get in some extra training and win the race in what the papers described as a ‘blistering pace’; some are simply comparing their times with the previous year.

Some are entering with a group of friends to have fun and work on their fitness; some are hoping to win a spot-prize (the girl who won the great prize of a Giant bike generously donated by Veritgo didn’t actually own one previously).

Some see it as a perfect opportunity to try out their first ever triathlon or duathlon and they are right to choose it. Everyone there has done well, and by the smiles on the faces, they have had fun too!

Etiquette

When I was swimming today, I noticed signs in the changing rooms about lane etiquette. Basically, they informed swimmers how to behave around others: stick to the left; swim at the same speed as others in your lane and change lane if they are faster/slower than you (there are slow, medium, fast, and aqua-jogging lanes, all of which are clearly labelled); allow others to overtake you if they are faster; only overtake between the flags; leave the ends of the lanes free for people who are turning.

I would have thought this was obvious, but apparently not – hence the signs. A UK website dedicated to work etiquette has a page about what and what not to do in a lift. Advice ranges from pressing the hold button when you see people rushing to catch the lift, to acceptable topics for conversation. Honestly, there are people who need to be told these things.

My favourite bit is the piece of advice that admonishes against using a mobile phone in a lift. It simply says, ‘It’s bad manners’. When I was a child, that was enough of a deterrent for anything. Being impolite was tantamount to eating tripe or listening to Val Doonican – something to be avoided at all costs.

On the occasions where I got a bit excitable and started to converse rather more loudly than was strictly necessary, my mother would say, ‘I’m sure the whole bus/park/world doesn’t wish to know about the minutiae of your day’ and I would blush, understandably chastised and be quiet until I had something interesting to say. Some might say they’re still waiting… You just didn’t want to ‘draw attention to yourself’ as this was considered a Bad Thing.

Recently I was at the theatre and a group of young lads were in the seats behind me. They were obviously in Wellington for some sporting tournament or other (either that or they revelled in wearing matching tracksuits) and they been dragged along to the theatre to keep them out of mischief. It soon became apparent that they had no idea how to behave in a theatre – I suspect this was a first for them.

They texted on their mobile phones, they asked each other what was going on and at one point they became directly involved – one of the actors was illustrating the dank depressing feel of the bach by trying to light a fire with damp matches when one lad offered him a lighter. To be fair, a couple of them seemed to be engaged as they made (loud) comments such as, ‘Oh wow, he’s really upset!’ and ‘She’s going to be really annoyed about this.’ But they had no comprehension that they were disrupting everyone else’s enjoyment.

I’m not alone in this experience. Linley Boniface wrote about a traumatic cinema visit with ‘people who believe their conversation is far more insightful, entertaining and hilarious than what’s happening up on the screen.’ Doing, or not doing all of these things are common courtesy and common sense, attributes which perhaps we are loosing in society.

Instances of complete oblivion to others are rising, not only in the pool or the theatre but also, and perhaps more dangerously, on the road. What is worse than ignorance of others is wilful disregard. When did we decide that our needs were so much more important than everybody else’s?

I blame two things – the i-pod and L’oreal. When plugged into a machine full of tunes you have illegally downloaded from the internet, thereby killing the potential of recording artists to actually make a living (but why should you care – you’ve got it for free!), you become unaware of everyone and everything else around you, existing only in your personal bubble. Words like communication, community, commonality, cease to mean anything to you. Because you are so special.

Or, in the words of an insidious marketing campaign that promotes vanity and makes money out of hiding what people really look like behind layers of make-up, ‘Because you’re worth it.’ Are you, really? When did we become so narcissistic? Was it when schools were no longer allowed to fail children who didn’t pass their exams? Was it when we started giving certificates to everyone who showed up and extra points for spelling things correctly? Was it when we started making reality television out of spoiled brats? Bob Brockie mentions some suggestions in a recent opinion piece.

As a human it would be nice to think you are entitled to clean water, fresh air, sufficient food, shelter, clothing, free education (up to 16 and then for those with aptitude) and a health service. As for the right to mouth off and assert your individuality at everyone else’s expense – I don’t think so. Some may call it etiquette – that’s clearly a tricky French word that people don’t understand. Let’s make things simple; it’s basic manners.

Drowning in swimsuit controversy

What’s with all the fuss about the new swimming costumes? From ‘technical doping’ to suggestions of denying the swimmers their records, the media has been full of spluttering comment about a sport they usually largely ignore.

At these most recent world championships, a fantastic 43 new records have been set. This seems similar to the 1976 Olympic Games in Montreal 1976 when the scandal was about the East Germans and doping. But it was also the first year that goggles were introduced. Swimmers could actually see where they were going – shock horror – and they wore Lycra for the first time. Twenty-six old world records tumbled.

Was there a scandal about their new developments? No, because the thing is – they still have to swim. And fast. Technology may help improve your techniques, but you still have to do the work yourself. You still have to get in a pool, and train for six hours a day. That’s not exactly easy, suit or no suit.

I simply don’t understand the anguish. So there’s this material that gives the wearers an unfair advantage. How is that different from those compression tops that footballers wear to help with circulation, or the shorts with extra stitching that rugby players use for ease of lifting in line-outs? How is it different from wearing an aero-dynamic cycling helmet in a time-trial?

We used to row in wooden boats, hit balls with wooden tennis racquets and cycle on bikes made from… actually, what did we ride before carbon fibre was invented? Innovation and advancement happens in sport as much as any other field, perhaps even more so because there are marketing opportunities which lead to revenue.

Ay, there’s the rub; some folk would like to think that sport is still amateur; we all play nicely and for honour and glory rather than filthy lucre. Training is cheating, and natural talent wins out every time. Nice thought, but it probably hasn’t happened since the Greeks competed naked (if then) at a variety of curiosities. Or is that the idea?

Do these people who protest (and probably only ever swim in the kidney-shaped pool on their holidays in Fiji – that always struck me as an odd design for a pool while we’re at it as it makes me think of surgical procedures) think we should still be paddling about in knitted bathers that come below the knee? Where should a line be drawn in the sand when it comes to progress?

Now FINA has bowed to the pressure and the suits will be banned in the future. Sure, we all like an excuse to vent some righteous indignation but I can’t help feeling that swimming is the new cycling – considered boring unless there is a scandal. Is it any coincidence that that Tour de France was hardly covered in the mainstream press this year? One doping scandal does not a news story make.

Hopefully this flood of crocodile tears will soon be water under the bridge and we can get back to concentrating on the beauty of the sport – for those that ever actually cared about it in the first place.

Besides, it has been ever thus; the man (or woman) in the best suit gets the best results.

Scorching Bay Triathlon - Workplace Challenge

As the alarm goes off at 6am on Sunday after four hours of sleep and three heavy nights (it was the Sevens after all) my thoughts are less than charitable – ‘whose stupid idea was it to enter the workplace challenge triathlon?’ I grumble. The fact that it was my suggestion doesn’t make it any more palatable.

I eat my two slices of toast and honey (which is a bit of a ritual before a race) and wait for another of my team member to arrive while blearily watching the football. Liverpool are 0-0 with Portsmouth at half-time. (They go on to a thrilling 3-2 victory away from home, so that cheers me up when I watch the second half later.)

When I start to wonder why she hasn’t arrived, I check my cell phone which bleeps jauntily that she will meet me at transition – I must have got my wires crossed, or definitely blurred!

I cram on my helmet and shoes (my feet are swollen from dancing all night in high heeled boots – well, England won the Sevens!) and leap onto my bike to pedal to the start. What a day! The wind barely ruffles the harbour, although it is steadily building, and the sun is out strong already. Today will certainly be a day to slip, slop, slap, and wrap, or whatever other non-alliterative words have been added to the slogan.

My team are there at the start as I rack my bike among the other trusty steeds waiting patiently for the long course – sorry, I get a bit carried away when talking about my bike. I love my bike. We have team photos. There are two of our workplace teams – a girl team (called ‘Don’t Give Up Your Day Job’)


and a boy team (called ‘The Fit, the Fat, and the Frog).

Our fearless swimmer is clad merely in togs. She is nuts. Or maybe, just German. Last night as I partied hard in Courtenay Place with some Morris Dancers and the Cookie Monster, a tiny voice in the back of my mind was telling me to go home and get some rest. A couple of pints of Epic silenced it without too many problems, but I knew our fearless swimmer would be safely tucked up in bed. She was.

Their fearless swimmer is not looking too keen. He too was at the Sevens, and he too thinks this is a ridiculous idea, but at least he is wearing a wetsuit. There is some nervous standing about at the water’s edge, and then they’re off, splashing about in the water and hunting down those orange buoys. The wind is picking up and things start bobbing in the water.

Our fearless swimmer does a great time and she sprints dripping up into the transition where she hands over to me and I set out on my trip around the bays. Their fearless swimmer emerges from the water a short while later so I have to try and maintain the gap between us.

Of course, the wind is strong now – particularly heading past the airport at Lyall Bay – and I know this will be even worse on my return. People come whistling past me and the medium course turn around (at 10km) looks very tempting. I briefly consider whether anyone would notice if I didn’t plough on up the hill and stopped for a coffee instead. But this would be cheating, and even if I feel terrible, I do not cheat.

I start grinding up the hill and my mind wonders off somewhere, only to be startled and alarmed when I find I have fallen into the gutter by the side of the road and can’t get back out. Ouch. I bump to a standstill. Bumping and grinding, but it’s not that much fun and I have knocked the speed and distance counter doodacky out of kilter. I’m embarrassed more than hurt as I dust myself off and try to get going again – uphill into a headwind – and find it’s hard to get enough pressure to clip into my pedals.

I concentrate for the rest of the way round and although people hurtle past on the way down as well (I am such a womble going downhill) and the wind is buffeting me off my bike on the way back, I make it to the transition in one piece. I hand over to our fearless runner and she skips off looking fresh and sprightly and not at all as though she was sinking pints in the pub last night.

Crazy frog is right behind and his fearless runner sets off in hot (and I do mean hot – that wind is doing nothing to reduce the temperature) pursuit. Their team is the fit, the fat and the frog – and as he is French, I’m guessing that he is the latter of the trio. His first words on dismount are, ‘My bottom is sore!’ but he has done a great job.

He hands over to their fearless runner, who (as an ex-army dude) is racing in tracksters. It is so hot that he will come to regret that later. The run is two laps, so we see them both come and go out and back and out and then back again – hurrah! Our team wins so there are even more hurrahs, but we can afford to be gracious in victory.

I realise that our teams combined comprise Team Europe. Of the six people from our workplace who accepted this challenge, not a one is a Kiwi – aren’t they meant to be a healthy sporting nation? There is a coffee queue for miles at the café on the front, and not a single one of our sextet collects a spot prize, but we go back to mine where Him Outdoors has cooked a massive fry-up so we all feel like winners.

The wind is now more than a stiff breeze and the sailboats are zipping across the bay. As we stretch out on the sofas and drink cups of tea we congratulate ourselves on our efforts. We are saying nicer things about the race now than we did this morning, but everyone is still wary about committing to the next one!

If you're interested in things like results, check them out here.

Olympics: water and horses

As I have previously mentioned, one of the things I like about the Olympic Games is getting to watch sports that I never normally see - slalom canoeing anyone? This event was quite spectacular; the way those guys throw their hips around and ride those waves is amazing. I find it hard enough to keep the boat the right way up when I get hit by a tiny wave, let alone one of those man-made monsters.

The event had all the excitement and drama of glamorous competition: speed was not necessarily of the essence with time penalities and aquatic agility taken into account. There were world champions, unknowns - go Togo! - and a Brit, who powered and thrashed his way to a silver medal. Wow! David Florence is a new superhero. That was worth watching!

I love the swimming events and was thrilled to see 'our girls' Rebecca Adlington and Jo Jackson swim to a gold and bronze medal in the 400m freestyle. I'm also fascinated by their GB swimming caps which look like they are wearing targets on their head.

And Michael Phelps is still on track to achieve what he set out to accomplish. Five gold medals; five world records. I thought Ian Thorpe was astounding (and still do), but Phelps is incredible, though I would hesitate to use the term - heard on Kiwi commentary - 'a freak in the water'.

It seems Britain is good with boats and horses, remaining competitive in the rowing, sailing and equestrian events - two bronze medals for the equestrian team hauls Britain into the top 10 on the medals table at the time of writing.

Meanwhile, the poor New Zealanders struggle in their football games - being drawn against Brazil for the mens and USA for the womens. I would feel more for them if they didn't give their teams such ridiculous names. The All Blacks I can cope with, but the Oly Whites? Come on; how old are you? What's wrong with 'New Zealand' - it's nothing to be ashamed of, and there's no need to give the teams diminutive monikers involving black, white, silver, and ferns. The height of humiliation should have come when they tried to name their badminton team the black cocks. Just stop it, will you?

And apparently the 'oh-so-cute' kid who sang at the opening ceremony (singing children - don't get me started...) was lip-synching. Apparently the real kid who sang the song simply wasn't cute enough. So China puts on a false face to fool the world, and people are suprised by this? Did they learn nothing from Mao Tse-Tung?

Olympics: Negative advertising

I don't usually watch TV One news and sport - I find their presenters smug and ill-informed. But they have got the Olympics, and so I have to watch it. I have SKY, which I am happy to pay for and I would far rather the Olympics were on that as well, and then I could have the choice which version to watch - and it wouldn't be One's.

Yesterday I watched as commentators stumbled through sports they knew nothing about - I can forgive that. One of the great things about the Olympics is the fact that every four years you get to watch sports you know nothing about - and won't watch again for another four years. I was intrigued by the fencing, in which the outfits looked like something left over from the Dr. Who costume department.

What I can't forgive is the amount of advertising displayed throughout the sports. I know that advertisers have paid for them to afford the rights (although, as I said, I would have preferred to watch it on SKY) but must they put adverts on every ten minutes - I timed them. They came on during football matches and the crucial parts of the women's road-cycling race. Events were missed or shortened as they were busy prostituting the ethics of The Games.

In cricket, adverts are put on at the end of overs; in tennis at the chage of ends; but in football, it seemed appropriate to just throw them in at random. Why could they not have waited for a goal kick, or after a goal was scored (there were a handy five against New Zealand when they played Brazil). So I idled away the down time between sports by making a list of the products I won't be buying. I know who they are, but I won't give them extra publicity here.

Even more infuriating were the adverts for TV One scattered throughout - I'm already watching your station! I shan't again unless I absolutely have to, especially not Fair Go - is it fair that I am trying to watch the road racing and your mug keeps popping up with annoying regularity? And as for that advert that tells me to 'watch sporting history being made in high definition', I can't bloody watch it anything with all these sodding adverts!

In the rare breaks between rampant commercialism I saw Britain's first gold medal, as Nicole Cooke ploughed through the teaming rain to win the road cycling race and then rushed to embrace her teammates. It was a fantastically gutsy performance and I forgot my gripes as she celebrated her well-deserved victory,. Congratulations Nicole!

I'm also keen to see Michael Phelps storm through the waters in the pool. I wish him all the best in his quest for eight gold medals. That would be a truely phenomenal achievement and a story worthy of the Olympic Games. If he 'only' wins a few, I shall not think he has failed, or feel smug that he didn't achieve his goals. I am impressed by the fact that he can and he thinks he can. I hope he does.

Individual Olympics

The Olympics have begun, with an opening ceremony that him indoors described as, ‘Thousands of people doing synchronized running around. It’s not my sort of thing at all, but they’re very good at it.’ They also wafted about on aerial hoists and let off numerous fireworks, which must have done wonders for the smog situation in Beijing.

I’m not particularly fussed for the opening ceremony – it’s a fantastic waste of money as far as I can see (although I love the fireworks and think it is weird how the athletes all come out with their camcorders filming the crowd as though they were the celebrities), but now the games begin properly and the sporting types are out in earnest.

Certain things have always blighted the Olympics, and I’m not even going to touch upon the politics. There is no way that politics can be kept out of sport and anyone who suggests they should be (the ‘keepoos’ – KEEP Politics Out Of Sport – as Tim Shadboldt calls them) is evidently deluded.

My qualms centre on what sports are included and which are overlooked. Whether I like synchronized swimming, BMX jumping or rhythm gymnastics or not (I don’t) is not the point. Beach volleyball is also besides the point as it is simply ridiculous and not a real sport – any discipline that has regulations about how skimpy your clothing must be makes a mockery of the athleticism of the games.

I don’t think team sports should be included. I don’t believe football (which only America and New Zealand insist on calling soccer) should be included. This is not just because it would be the only time we play this game under the guise of Great Britain. Similarly, hockey, basketball, handball and waterpolo should be ousted from the tournament.

The Olympics are about the strength, speed and skill of the individual. Team games are fantastic to watch and have an entirely different dynamic from individual sporting endeavours, but they do not embody the principles of faster, higher, stronger which the Olympic Games represent.

Because I am completely arbitrary and this is my opinion, I will allow relay teams in running and swimming, and teams in cycling (pursuit and madison) and rowing (pairs, fours and eights, coxless or otherwise). I’m not entirely sure why, but these things seem right whereas baseball and softball don’t. Actually, softball never seems right (you might as well have underarm cricket), but that is another issue

I have heard the argument that no sport should be included if it has another and greater sporting stage – such as tennis or road race cycling. Does anyone who has just watched Wimbledon or the Tour de France really care who wins the medals for these competitions? I agree with this, but it is not the issue under discussion here.

I feel that these team sports remove the gloss and the prestige from the real medal winners – I mean, in a team sport you can have a stinker of a game and your team still wins. Do you deserve an Olympic Gold medal? I think not. If there is any doubt, ask Lay Down Sally.