Olympics 2000: Perspective down under

BUSINESS DAY, 21 SEPTEMBER 2000

THERE IS SOMETHING soothing about watching the Olympic Games. It is disappointing, of course, that SA is taking such a caning on the medals table, but it is a gentle regret that I experience, not the agonies of personal investment. The psychic well-being of the nation is not on the line with each fresh event, and that is both an unfamiliar and a weirdly relaxing feeling.

That is not simply because most of our top athletes are trained and based overseas. (The drama of Penny Heyns failing to repeat her Atlanta double is really a showdown between her current training regime in Canada and her previous training regime in the USA. All we contributed was the flag.) Part of it is because the vastness of it all puts things in perspective. The stage is so big and there are so many players – rich ones like America and Australia, poor ones like Poland or Pakistan or us – that one’s emotions take their proper places. It is right and proper that the joy of winning should be many times more intense than the disappointment of not winning. I imagine that this is what watching sport might once have felt like, before money and television and the manic compulsions of defensive nationalism.

All in all, Sydney is putting on a pretty good show. The opening ceremony was impressive and even entertaining, if you enjoy watching gangs of sexually ambiguous construction workers tap-dancing. As it happens, we do not, down at the Chalk ’n Cue, but we were kept happy by Keith Quinn and John MacBeth, the two Australian commentators. Keith and Johnno should be compulsory listening for every South African tempted to grumble about Quirk or Bladen.

“Those are construction workers,” said Keith during an especially vigorous outbreak of dancing, “you can see their hard hats.”

“That’s right, Keith,” agreed John, “construction workers built a lot in this country. They built the roads and the bridges.”

Keith was not about to leave it at that. “They also built the buildings, John,” he chipped in.

“That’s right, Keith, they did,” agreed John generously.

The ceremony had started with several dozen Australians on horseback. It was a time of strong emotions. How we laughed when Keith declared: “It is so appropriate that the ceremony should start with the sound of hoofs.” How we cheered when the riders formed four perfect Olympic rings and one squiggly Olympic amoeba that wriggled and undulated before finally resolving itself into a kind of Olympic oval. How we nodded in grave agreement when John reminded us: “Horses were very important in the early days. They enabled people to travel further than if they were without horses.”

I don’t know if Keith and Johnno were the swimming commentators, but the best entertainment of the first week was waiting for the reaction as it became increasingly evident that Ian Thorpe was losing the 200m freestyle final. I have nothing against Ian Thorpe, who seems a nice enough lad, if a little big in the foot area. It was the Aussie triumphalism that was difficult to stomach. “He’s the greatest thing in the water!” the commentators bellowed. “The Carl Lewis of the pool! No, faster than Carl Lewis! And such a humble boy!”

As he was beaten into silver by Pieter Hoogenband, I leaned closer to my screen. Would they lapse into silence? Would they apologise? They barely broke stride. “And Thorpie’s the first to congratulate the Dutch swimmer! What a gentleman!”