I’m a junkie. I can’t help myself. I try to resist but I know it’ll get the better of me. Nothing for ages. Years even. And then Blam! it’s got me. Overdose. This time round it’s going to be worse. I can feel it. Feel the need. No sleep; bad food; drink, too. Addiction.
It’s a strange phenomenon this Olympics business. Normally I couldn’t give two hoots whether anyone triple jumps over the sandpit or triple dives perfectly from the top board. ‘Archery, schmarchery,’ I say as I go about my daily life completely ignorant of nocks, stabilizers and finger tabs.
Then every four years I turn. I don’t just begin to take a passing interest in what I would normally consider ‘weird and wonderful’ minority sports. I get into the minutiae. I carefully plan my television schedule, study background detail, beef up my knowledge of entire pursuits that have never crossed my galaxy before.
You lot have something of an advantage over me. Some of you (although I find it desperately hard to believe) may not have fallen victim to the joys of the XXVII Olympiad at all. The rest of you may well be getting back to normal by the time you read this. You’ll know your Blaine Wilsons from your Elise Rays. You may even be shaking off the early stages of synchronized swimming craving or rhythmic gymnastics dependence. Come on! Admit it, we’ve all been there.
I still have it ALL in front of me. And this time round I’ve been preparing up front because this is my first, real internet-armed Olympics. Don’t get me wrong, I know the internet was around four years ago but, believe me, the quality of information on my favorite lesser sports was somewhat lacking. Now, though…well, no complaints, really. The quality and quantity of background detail is a joy to behold.
Did you know, for example, that the one-toss serving rule in beach volleyball is likely to be used at the Sydney Games? And I particularly like this little revelation from Australian head shooting coach, Bill Murray. ‘Shooting’s a very technical sport, like golf (!!!!!???),’ says Murray. ‘You can’t predict who’s going to win a major golf tournament before it starts, and it’s very difficult to predict the same about shooting.’ Next thing you know people will be gambling on this sort of stuff.
Not being a gambling man myself, I’ll just be betting on my own ability to stay up all night watching bizarre sports coverage while maintaining some sort of work output during the day. Weeks on end.
Yep, this one’s the tough one. Barcelona and Atlanta were just messing about in time-zone terms. Training sessions. I’ve been building up to this one all my life. Sydney is about as far away from my home town as Olympic venues can get so the relevant TV watching could be a struggle at times.
Yep, Australians have it easy this time round and I wish them well with their easy prime-time slots. I will be sharing the pain of my fellow athletes; limbering up early in the evening and then looking upon office hours ravaged by sleep deprivation as something of an endurance test. Heck, I’d even go so far as to call it a marathon.
