It's All Sport

The last time I watched the Olympics I was a kid who couldn't really grasp the magnitude of the athletes' achievements. Sixteen years, two tarred lungs, a game leg and a beer gut later, I now have a fuller appreciation for how hard it is and how incredibly talented all the athletes competing in these Games are.

I sometimes wonder where some of the events originated. Most of the sports seem to have some historical necessity. I'm sure being good at throwing a hammer or a discus or a javelin would have won the approval of your reigning local feudal lord. Being able to run fast and jump high probably helped you escape from a rival local feudal lord. And we all know the storied history of the marathon. But dressage? Badminton? Synchronised swimming?

And for God's sake what sadistic marijuana-induced stupor produced the various gymnastic events? The thought process probably went like this: Hey, how's this for an event? Let's hang a couple of rings from the ceiling and have men try to suspend themselves by their outstretched arms alone. Not painful enough? Wait a minute. Waaaait a minute! Something else is coming to me. How about this? Why don't we take a really narrow plank, turn it sideways so it's even narrower and have women do impossibly intricate somersaults on it. Yeah, I think that'll do it. Sheesh!

But in all the multitude of events, my two favourites apart from aquatics and track & field have got to be keirin (cycling) and women's beach volleyball. I like the former because it is a mad sprint with hardly any rules (except I don't think you're allowed to actually bite your fellow-racers). The latter is a no-brainer. Any sport that requires its impossibly tanned, toned participants to wear two-piece outfits gets my vote, not to mention my undivided attention.