Ariarne Titmus week has morphed into Stewart McSweyn week for us here on The Islands. It’s funny how this level of excellence somehow now feels comfortable for us; Tasmania has come a long way.
Maybe Australia too. I remember seeing English cricketer Fred Titmus play in an Ashes Test in Melbourne in 1974, in what would have been his third last Test. “Titmus is a rodent” chanted the Australian yobs in the MCG’s Bay 13, to one of the finest all-rounders of his generation.
I can imagine Ariarne Titmus getting called names at school, but not that one.
The Olyroos bottled it. After a stellar opening victory over the well-credentialled Argentina, a defensive mindset crept in for the next match against Spain. Despite stout defence over long periods of time, a late goal sank us 1-0. That left us needing a result against Egypt in the final pool game. Coach Graham Arnold got the tactics totally wrong and his over-defensiveness handed momentum in the game to the Africans. The second half was better but Egypt triumphed in the end 2-0. We really should have expected more from a leader of Arnold’s experience and the side should feel well let down. Due to Olympic football age restrictions, most of them will never have the chance again of playing in an Olympic Games.
Equestrian is one of those sports right in the why-is-this-here category. Once upon it might have made sense, but now it’s just embarrassing. Ask any horse what they’d like to do and my bet is it wouldn’t be being made to spend hours learning dangerous jumps, silly sideways steps and the like, just so some poncy rider in a silly outfit can claim all the credit. And in an era of climate change and the need to reduce carbon emissions, flying large animals around the world just so they can be forced to demostrate how badly they have Stockholm syndrome…
Animals could have their own Olympics. There was the cow who jumped over the moon, so clearly they have some innate interest in testing out their prowess. Stay tuned.
The canoe sprints are heaps better than rowing. There I said it. The water being thrashed about, the sheer speed, the absence of the weedy guy whose job it is to be passenger. All good.
The Boomers have always been our worst-named international team and now these days, with the term having picked up extra baggage, it’s even kind of weird. Commentators from other English-language countries must struggle with it, but then again so do I. How about Australian Men’s Basketball Team? I know it’s obscenely boring, but so is the sport, so it fits perfectly.
Watching across the different sports it’s amazing to see so many different body shapes. There are the inverted triangle swimmers, the sculpted track sprinters, the surely-they-eat-donuts discus throwers, the beanpole high jumpers, the waddling weightlifters (including the much talked trans person who was kind of a pepper-grinder), the hourglass track cyclists bulging top and bottom. One of my favourites frankly has been Australian hurdler Nick Hough who at first glance doesn’t look like he could run out of sight in a Bridgewater fog, but, well, he’s an Olympian after all. Body positive, horses people for courses.
Swimming is surprisingly watchable. I think it’s because relatively speaking the drama of the races unfolds slowly. In track sprinting or cycling or numerous other events, bam and it’s done. Or other events where someone seems to be in front, but then get a time penalty or some other witchery that interferes with the space-time continuum and then they are behind. Or in judged events when you’re neither ahead or behind, just in limbo until the judges fess up their scorecards and your fate is sealed. In swimming the predators don’t pounce and bite, they slowly sneak up and then begin to nibble. ‘Tis not only a noble death, but also ripper entertainment.
I watch a fair bit of sport generally, and many do, but you can’t know all the rules about anything. Thus it is with some annoyance that the rise of the sport bore has become a thing. The sport bore is an expert, sometimes a previous Olympian or high-level representative, brought in to provide expert comment. Most of them fail abysmally. Explain the rules a bit, for us ingenues? No. Talk about why a team might use particular tactics? No. Demystify the umpiring? No. No, what we get tends to be “Oh, James X is such a fighter, he never gives up” (quite!) or “Team X (behind two goals a minute remaining) really need to score here” (quite!). The hockey, rugby, basketball, swimming and even more has been beset by the sport bores. Exceptions for Steve Hooker commentating on the pole vault, who was brilliant, and Tamsyn Manou who has been provided very useful insights at the athletics.
Which brings us to Bruce McAvaney. Most of us at some point have liked Bruce, including me. It’s now time to put him out to pasture. If commentating a race is some kind of test in how much trivia can be regurgitated, he’s still a winner. But I don’t think it is. Not any more. If we want to know a whole lot about any athlete, we have the internet. Mostly these days I find myself craving for commentators to shut up and let us enjoy the race. The ’empty stadium’ atmosphere is not quite the same as at other Olympic Games, but it’s still something. Let it unfold. Highlight where necessary. Share the emotion. But stop bullying us with statistics and inanities.
Among his expressions, the one that annoyed me severely a day or two ago was that a particular competitor ‘had to settle for silver’. Fair dinkum. They earned that with years of effort and dedication to their cause.
They did not ‘settle’ for anything, they bloody well earned it. Someone who has been in commentating as long as he has ought to darn well know that.
Speaking of earning stuff, probably every competitor in a 10 kilometre swim should get some kind of medal. It’s hard to imagine that kind of pain. Phew. Medal and coronavirus test and drug test and sanity test. There you have it.
Sometimes you don’t have to imagine too hard, because it unfolds before us. Pat Tiernan dare I say will eventually become synonymous with courage in Australian sporting lore. Whatever else he ever achieves as an athlete, and we can hope it’s quite a lot, he will be the man who collapsed on the track several times and hauled himself to his feet again in the 10,000 metres. He eventually staggered over the line to complete the race. Gold glitters, but a true and humble hero brought me to tears like nothing else has in this Olympic Games.
The park skateboarding was on today. Okay, to start with no-one has been able to explain why this hasn’t stayed in the park where it belongs. We know of course that it’s simply part of the International Olympic Committee’s marketing desire to make the Olympics ‘relevant to all’ but particularly young people. What next? Team selfie-taking? Synchronised barista coffee-art? Tik-Tok friend deletion with triple twist?
But anyway. The park skateboarding at least seemed like a great metaphor for our urban millenials. Young people, trapped in a giant concrete cavern, unable to escape. Twirling around equally to amuse themselves and to show off. Fervently awaiting the approval of their peers. And happy to try dangerous stunts and risk severe injury for the sake of fleeting fame. Maybe this does belong in the Olympics.
What is in and out of the Olympics is a matter for the IOC, but the Brisbane version now locked in for 2032 is to a large extent a matter for us. My abiding thought is that the event should be as dispersed as much as possible. There’s no a priori reason why the surfing for example needs to be near the diving, or the main stadium near the table tennis venue. It should be a Queensland event. To spread the infrastructure spend, and the hospitality benefit, across a wide area would seem to be an effective way to maximise the hosting benefits.
My final thought is on the coverage.
The first Olympics I paid much attention to was Munich in 1972. Back in those days, there was very little international sport on Australian television, and satellite time was expensive. But in that and subsequent Olympic Games, there was a sensible decision of TV networks to focus on excellence. For example, despite the absence of any Australian competitor in the gymnastics, we watched in awe as the incomparable Nadia Comăneci hauled in five gold medals at Montreal.
These days? We see what the Australians are doing and very little else. But you know what. The 7 Network, which bought the rights to the Tokyo Olympics, has had a spare channel the whole time. Channel 61 has been showing exactly the same feed as Channel 60. Surely they could have put a selection of wonderful events that were worth watching, regardless of any of our athletes. Handball! Badminton! Volleyball! You name it!
I don’t deny our own athletes their place in the sun, especially in these difficult times. But if 7 can go to the trouble of organising hokey watch parties where athletes’ families get privileged access in return for parading their raw emotions in branded network gear, then they could have gone to the trouble of providing a broader coverage. Many of these ‘minor sports’ are precisely the ones dominated by countries that are important parts of multicultural Australia.
Sheer excellence is at least as good as jingoism.
Alan Whykes is Chief Editor of Tasmanian Times, and likes a lot of different sports.
