Those of you who are familiar to my work on here will know this already but if you are new to this site may not be aware that my writing is normally a satirical take on the current toings and froings of British life. My ongoing saga A Tale Of Number Ten amusing me if nobody else. However with the current administration wisely keeping its own counsel the past few weeks in the face of thrice daily dreadful economic news pausing only to peep above the parapet to bask in the reflected glory of our Olympic and Paralympic athletes. This means this saga has had to be put on the back burner for now and I must change tack and write about something else.
What should I write about? Well, I am nothing if not unoriginal and I have decided to write this article about the 2012 Olympics and, more specifically, its effect on me.
Anyone who knows me or who follows my Twitter feed will know I love the Olympic Games. I am obsessed with them. In my opinion it is the pinnacle sporting event on the globe. Bar none. Football may argue they have the World Cup but can anybody remember the last time there was a truly great World Cup? 1994 maybe. 1970? Now turn that question on its head and ask yourself the last time there was a poor Olympic Games. If you pushed for then maybe the 1996 Games in Atlanta did not do itself justice but even there were far more moments to live well in memory than poor.
Of course the corporate sponsorship is in your face and the ticketing fiasco threatened at one stage to put a dampener on proceedings but then the Games started.
An opening ceremony that celebrated all that is great with the United Kingdom. Starting with rolling meadows giving way to the industrial revolution and modern day Britain with flashmobbing teenagers obsessing with social networking. Shining all the way through was the quirky British sense of humour. This was Britain showing who we are, you may not get it but let’s have a bit of fun all the same.
It may be clichéd to say this but it all seemed to flash by in a second. Day after day after day records tumbled, medals were won. There were moments of pure Olympian drama. That poor Turkish athlete, Merve Aydin, hobbling over the line after her injury providing memories of Derek Redmond in Barcelona being helped over the line by his father after his hamstring snapped. Nowhere else do you get such drama. The British rowers, Mark Hunter and Zac Purchase, in tears and apologising to everyone after securing silver because “they came for gold”. Such was their disappointment that their reaction had the BBC presenter, John Inverdale, in tears himself as he tried to introduce the next event. Also in the water, Katherine Copeland and Sophie Hosking, celebrating their unexpected win by shouting “we’re on a stamp” to each other. (Royal Mail celebrated each British Olympic win by producing a new stamp with a picture of the winner on it). All this happened before we got to the Olympic Stadium and the drama of Ennis, Farah, Bolt et al.
The drama of sport unfolded before a backdrop of unrivalled and unashamed patriotism. The amount of times the atmosphere was praised by an athlete, be it in the swimming pool, at Eton Dorney, or at the Olympic Stadium it became a cliché in itself. Not that the fans allowed their support for Team GB to cloud their support for the Games as a whole. One abiding memory for me of the Games came early on during one of the swimming finals as the crowd sighed with disappointment as an American swimmer just missed out on a world record time. Despite the British competitor in that event being well and truly thrashed the crowd had roared on the American, urging to break the record.
So, what effect have these Games had on me? I am a Games nut so I wasn’t surprised by the fact I went into a bit of a depression when they were finished but what really surprised me is what happened next.
I fell out of love with football.
How can football compete with the Olympic Games? This was a question I continually asked of myself. I compared the above moments of pure sporting drama to the ongoing saga of Premier League football. The hideous racist episodes, whether proven or not for those who still refuse to let these things go, involving John Terry and Luis Suarez, the sense of entitlement that pervades throughout the league as it brands itself as the most exciting league in the world and woe betide anybody who disagrees with that self-imposed assumption. Maybe last season was a just a one-off I thought to myself. Then I started to question that. When was the last time anybody can seriously say there was an enjoyable football World Cup? 1994 in America at a push maybe but that still had a complete snore fest of a final involving Brazil and Italy. Now turn that question on its head and ask yourself when was the last time there was a poor Olympic Games? 1996 in Atlanta maybe. However those Games were still illuminated with moments of sporting greatness. Witness Michael Johnson’s astonishing performances on the track, Carl Lewis rolling back the years in the Long Jump and, of course, the now, Sir Steve Redgrave rowing to glory.
Maybe I was and am over-reacting but the Olympics also brought home another home truth to me and that was the all encompassing presence of football. As I said earlier the Olympics are the pinnacle of all sports other than football and boy did football try to remind everybody of this. “Yes, the Olympics are the most important tournament for other sports but we have the World Cup as our sought after prize.” Both footballers and football fans would remind the planet as if the Olympics are okay for the piddling little sports but the game involving twenty-two men and a round ball is above such trifling matters. The football fans on Twitter and Facebook would provide a countdown to the commencement of the new season, one person who shall remain nameless memorably, or infamously, tweeting midway through the Olympics this question “What do United fans think of Danny Welbeck?” Now, I am not one who wishes to dictate to other Tweeters what one should or should not Tweet, so long as it does not intentionally set out to offend someone, as that would beat the whole point of social networks but, please, mid-way through the Olympics, during the football break, do not spark debates about the relative merits of a footballer. Surely even the most ardent football fan wants a break from it all.
Now, earlier I said I fell out of love with football. Maybe that was a little bit harsh even if for a short while it was true but I have certainly come to appreciate football for it is. Just another sport. I will still watch United and even permitted myself a loud cheer when Van Persie netted the winner against Southampton but no longer will I watch as much as I used to. There are more sports out there that deserve our attention.
There are more important things going on in the world than football. Indeed the final gift the Olympic Games gave to me was that I realised I do not want to become like those forty somethings who talk about nothing else other than the sport with the round ball and for that Sir Chris Hoy, Jessica Ennis, Mo Farah, Victoria Pendleton and all the rest of you I thank you!
