In a similarly stunned state as when the credits rolled at the end of the final Harry Potter movie, or the very last day that I untied the Green Apron of That-American-Coffee-Company and walked out of the building for the last time or the morning I woke up to learn that the King of Pop had breathed his last, I find myself forced to admit that the reign of the Green and Gold has ended.
Yes, despite our medal winning talent for devising trite clichéd nicknames to describe our myriad successes in the pool; Golden Girl, The Missile, Madame Butterfly and the Mighty Thorpedo to name but a few, it appears that the world’s largest island nation, surrounded by ocean’s replete with water, or even ‘girt by sea’ as our national anthem would indicate, has forgotten how to swim.
The papers are alive with headlines announcing the crushing defeat we’ve endured over the last week. Australia’s golden reign has ended! The coaches are being unceremoniously sacked, the wet-haired over-chlorinated athletes are balling all over the telly, the scientists are analysing the adverse affects of southern nations competing during the northern summer and somewhere, perched upon little Islands, in two separate corners of the earth are the Kiwis, and the POMs, loving every bloody minute of our failure. Yes, even New Zealand has managed to haul in more gold than their westerly neighbours putting paid to the northern-southern-summer argument.
Fortunately, as a British resident of France I can adopt and vaunt the successes of two decidedly more successful Nations.
Britain, sartorially empowered by their very fancy Stella McCartney designed Union-Jacked up Lycra, have won just about everything they have put their hand to. Which is to be expected considering the Great nation of Britannia invented most of the sports at which we compete on an Olympic level. If they can’t win cycling, equestrian, archery and hockey, then they aren’t really trying.
I’m rather proud to see so many of them, white skinned and pink cheeked, forgoing the tradition of the stiff upper lip and crying out with joy as God Save the Queen sounds out again and again over the rolling hills (and council estates) of East London. Even Kate and Wills hugged!…publicly!…during the cycling! Even the Royal Family has agreed to touch each other in celebration of their country’s Olympian success. It certainly makes a change from seeing Australians bang on in their overly rehearsed way about ‘putting up a fight’ and ‘giving it their all’.
The opening ceremony was a festival of British wit as I expected it would be. Danny Boyle has an incredible knack for blending the sorrowful, the hysterical and the scatological to paint an endearing cultural portrait completely devoid of self-congratulation. It is not every Hollywood director who could encourage an octogenarian Monarch to simulate jumping out of a helicopter. It certainly was a refreshing change from small children marching in unison to ambient music ripped off from Cirque de Soleil.
The team uniforms, the sporting equivalent of bridesmaids’ dresses, were as surprising as ever. Doted with a bevy of Haute Couturiers, the Europeans walked straight off a catwalk onto the track. The Americans didn’t wear a shell-suit for the first time in 50 years and I imagine Germany took to wearing neon pastels to wash away their reputation for both military and economic world domination.
That the Americans win everything is expected. Many, many years ago, shortly after the signing of the constitution, the United States opted out of any and all pursuits that didn’t involve earning stupendously ridiculous amounts of money. Blockbuster Hollywood movies and sitcom television, yes! Philosophy and physics, no. Inventing a pill that will give you an erection when you’re 90 but not curing cancer, yes! Becoming the world’s most successful Olympic athlete so Nike (check) will pay you until the day you die, yes! Curbing gun laws so psychopaths can’t pretend to be Bane in a suburban cinema, absolutely not.
The Chinese are of course very successful but it’s purely a numbers game. I read the reports accusing them all of cheating but here is the truth. When you number one billion, that one amongst you is capable of swimming really fast seems to me a forgone conclusion. In fact, that they only have one must be considered a national tragedy. Blessed with state funded everything; the Chinese should really be winning a lot more than they do. Which leads to the question, where are India in all of this?
I am also loving the medal table war between the two Koreas. The one winning because they are all sponsored by Samsung and the other winning because they are all sponsored by the threat of torture. I’ve tried and failed to find footage of how the North Korean media communicates about the Olympics. I wonder if they even know who Michael Phelps is? I wonder how many of them won’t get on the plane to go home?
The surprise success for me has to be the French. La Republique, who bring their gallant, manly and rather dashing national pastime of Fencing to the games, have opted out of competing in anything where there is a remote risk of actual competition. Why bother investing huge sums of money in training swimmers or track athletes when you can truly own one entire sport all by yourselves. A sport that no other nation cares enough to have a real go at.
Check out the French medal count. Now check out how many medals they have for…wait for it… Judo.
I’ve questioned everyone I know, even an unfortunate candidate I was interviewing this week, but no one has yet been able to satisfy my curiosity as to ‘why’. Why is it that a nation, most celebrated for their romantic, intellectual and fashionable superiority over the rest of this earth, has taken like a (force-fed) duck to water to a sport requiring them to put on weight, throw their opponent to the ground and wear a very unflattering bathrobe and pyjama pant combination.
The French own Judo, a Japanese martial art that must have immigrated to France about the same time as Issey Miyake and Kenzo. Instead of ruling their own sport, Fencing, or a sport requiring very thin people to wear skin-tight unitards, cycling or make up, gymnastics, the French found the one sport no other country gave a s**t about and took it over.
A lesson for Australia in all of this… quit the pool and let’s become the Olympic champions of curling.