New Adventures in Handball

On my way into the Copper Box handball stadium I was asked for an interview by an American journalist who wanted to know why handball had never taken off in the UK, and whether it stood a chance on the back of these games. At the time I couldn't really explain it, and having seen my first match am even further at a loss. It's a terrific game, easy to stage and looks great fun to play. It's also surprisingly physical. Unlike basketball, for instance, plenty of contact is within the rules. I think it would suit school facilities well and – not insignificantly in Britain – played indoors!

That was what cost the young British team against the experienced Russians, who ran out comfortable winners. They were older, more organised, but above all much much bigger. The Brits countered with some impressive agility from the small but speedy Lyn Byl, who scored five, and goalkeeper Sarah Hargreaves held the Russian team at bay with a string of fantastic saves at the start of the second half, but the British girls didn't have the speed and decisiveness to hit their opponents on the break, and were contained easily in a half-court set for most of the game. The rangy Russian girls were able to break out from defence and attack at speed time and again, while the only physical force on the home side came from Eva Palies, who scored a fine brace in limited time on court and gave giant Russian defender Murauyeta a great tussle.

In lulls in play the crowd were amply entertained by the Russian coach, a beast of a man who never stopped screaming instructions at his charges. The average age was the youngest I've seen at any event so far, and perhaps in a few Olympics time there'll be no need for a piece on why the British don't follow handball.

The second game is Spain against France. A much more competitive game with the tenacious Spanish defenders never letting France get a clean shot away. They lead 10-7 at half time having held Les Bleus to almost a one in four shots ratio. Even GB did better against the Russians. The Spanish girls picked up a trio of early yellow cards, but the tactic has worked so far, helped by a solid performance from keeper Navarro.

Park Life

When you see a shop with queueing space outside for over five hundred people, it's hard not to be curious about what lies within. The Olympic Megastore is a vast space, filled with all manner of kit that I'd love if it didn't cost more than most of the tickets I've bought for this fortnight. £50 for an admittedly nice hoodie is seep, but £65 for a GB football shirt is getting silly. Found a display of flags, and was interested to see who was and wasn't being catered for. Aside from the obvious demand for the British flag, the big sellers are Jamaica and China, friendly staff member Kira explains. She had to disappoint a Canadian couple yesterday, and the French flags have been stashed away in the storeroom. Surprisingly you can't get an Irish flag either. Americans bring their own. Write your own punchline. Reminded that the best Olympic mascot by far was Barcelona's Catalan sheepdog Cobi. Wenlock and Mandeville feel painfully over-designed.

The park itself is built with ambitious confidence in the English weather. Almost no sheltered areas open for public milling around. Some lovely grass areas which fill quickly around lunch time, and look beautiful now. Not sure how they'll be after two solid weeks of the world's feet and patriotically-themed picnic blankets.

The commercialism for which the Olympics are so often criticised is actually fairly unobtrusive here. You'll get annoyed by roving flashmobs of Hare Krishna wannabes trying to sing about how wonderful coca cola is, but apart from that it's not too bad.

The absence of the Olympic flame (hidden inside the main stadium) is utterly shameful. How can an organising committee who got the relay so right get this so absurdly wrong? The flame is the symbol and the life of the whole games, not just something to be lit and forgotten about by everyone save the track and field competitors.

The other huge problem with the park lies in the landscaping around the big screens. Taking inspiration from Wimbledon's don't-call-me-Henman Hill, the architects have installed a huge screen where events are shown throughout the day. The problem is that they've pointed it straight at a hill that's covered in trees and flowers, while tiny slivers of grass off to the sides get a sliver of the action. A neat row of trees hides the screen entirely on one. These sitting areas (brought to you by British Airways) are ringed by sloping borders of wildflowers, which just three days in are being trodden into paths for people who don't want to take the long way round, and will look terrible in a fortnight. Any attempt to enforce a 'capacity' in these areas by creating only one entry point has been rendered completely moot. It's all been spectacularly badly thought out.

The mood, though, is upbeat. I'm fortunate that the sun is making a decent stab at shining, and the crowds are picnicing happily. The stars of the games continue to be the volunteers, almost all of whom are helpful, eager to have a chat, and knowledgable about the park.

I'm off to watch some handball for the first time, but more on my experience in the Aquatic Centre to follow soon.