“In the covid era, the Olympics were a nice distraction for the millions in quarantine or self-imposed solitude,” writes “The Gadfly” columnist ROBERT MACKLIN.  

“WHAT did you think of the Olympics?”

“Not bad… those girl swimmers were great… seems like last year, doesn’t it?”

This colloquy wafted my way while standing in a supermarket checkout line after the Canberra lockdown. I couldn’t help but agree – covid dominates everything; the Olympics seems not just from another year but a different dimension. 

But to pass the time I tried to recall the highlights and ponder the effect that massive circus of athletic virtuosity had on the world and especially our little corner of it. 

It wasn’t easy. Memory is a notoriously fickle mistress. It grabs some silly images – such as that swim coach going nuts or the exhausted runner staggering to the line – and erases others with deeper meanings. 

For example, the Chinese sprinter, Su Bingtian won his semi-final in 9.83 seconds and became the first Asian in 89 years to reach the final. That must give hope to runners from an entire continent, from Cambodia to Seoul to Ulan Bator.

We were also restricted by Kerry Stokes’ perception of what events would give his Seven Network the biggest viewer ratings. While it was exciting watching those gold-winning swimming events – and Patty Mills running rings around the Slovenians – there does come a time when women’s waterpolo – without underwater shots – starts to lose its antic charm; to say nothing of the impossible rules of Keirin in the cycling velodrome.

Apparently ping pong doesn’t rake in the viewers. Some of us love watching and playing the game since it’s probably the best method yet invented to keep body and mind in first-class trim. 

But to get a decent coverage you had to sign in to a Seven app and then go searching the entire spectrum while Bruce McAvaney was rabbiting on about some Kenyan’s time in the 2004 Athens 10,000.

On the way, you’d inevitably stop at some ghastly European torturing a horse with either “dressage” where the inbred chargers perform ridiculous prancing gaits; or the “show jumping” of barriers to the accompaniment of toffy females snorting criticism of Princess Harlequin III (the horse) for being “not quite up to snuff today”. Surely the time has come for the RSPCA to put an end to it, particularly when it’s the rider, not the poor horse who gets the reward.

Speaking of which, what’s the point in having golf, tennis, or a cut down version of the Tour de France as Olympic events? Sure, the IOC has abandoned the old amateur rule, but these “sports” are so professional that the Olympics is just another stopover on their schedule. Which reminds me, whatever became of drug testing? Here it is, weeks after the Games and I haven’t heard of a single positive test. Did the entire athletic world suddenly see the light?

There are, of course, some bigger considerations. In the covid era, it was a nice distraction for the millions in quarantine or self-imposed solitude. And it should have opened our hearts to the women and men of the world who have worked so hard to bring themselves to the peak of athletic performance. 

But every country has its Kerry Stokes, celebrating the national victors and ignoring the “other”. They too will be focusing on whether their medal tally beats the national adversary. 

Yes, we came sixth, once again “punching above our weight”. That, I fear, is the one element that will persist with our fickle mistress. As the old song says: “Memories are made of this”.

robert@robertmacklin.com