Big Screen Action

After the Water Polo, we head for the giant viewing screens placed to one end of the Olympic Park.  Fantastic idea, but poorly executed, to be honest, as I noted a week ago.  In the pre-athletics hours, when the park is at capacity, there are queues to get onto the slivers of grass that offer an angled view of the screen on the West side of the river.  The trick is to go over to the basketball arena in the East, where there are no queues and a far better angle from which to view the screen.

The massive crowd, obviously, love all the British success stories.  I find it interesting that Becky Adlington is the most popular of all, even in defeat.  I think we have to let Adlington off her ill-judged claim that swimming medals are harder to win than those in other sports, understanding the pressure of a post-race interview, and the gathered crowd certainly don't notice.

There's also great support for Michael Phelps.  Real respect for what he's done in his career.  I think there's a sense of pride that London will now always be associated with the great American's record-breaking exploits.  On a side note, Michael Phelps is a phenomenal swimmer, and a lovely guy, but there's something undeniably geeky about him too.  In an alternate universe where competitive swimming is banned, alternate universe Phelps is wearing a bow tie and winning more gold medals for chess than anyone has done before.

Adlington's race is remarkable.  When her fifteen year-old opponent first breaks away from the field, the first reaction is to stay calm, because fifteen year olds can't sustain world record pace for 800m.  Then at some point we all start to realise that the thing about fifteen year olds - one in their first ever international meet - is that nobody's got a clue what they can do.  And Katie Ledecky can, it turns out.  There's not as much dishonour in losing to such a wonderful swim as Adlington seems to worry that we all think.  I hope that the huge crowds gathered outside the broadcast centre as she gives the BBC an interview for their late show start to convince her that we're not going to disown her over this.

Five Rings - 2/8

Blue - Eight badminton players have been sent home from the games after intentionally trying to lose games late in pool play in order to gain an apparently easier draw later in the tournament.  The punishment is very severe given the fact that there was no rule expressly outlawing such a strategy.  However, the athlete's oath taken on behalf of all competitors at the opening ceremony promises to compete '...in the true spirit of sportsmanship, for the glory of sport and the honor of our teams'. I don't think there's any question that those players were ignoring that oath, and as such don't really understand what it is to be Olympians.

Black -

Red - Tickets have been the biggest source of complaints about the whole London Games, I think.  First it was the ballot, where some people ended up with more tickets than they knew what to do with and most were left frustrated.  Then the unused tickets and empty seats which have blighted the past two Summer Olympics struck London.  Now there are tiny releases of spare seats which are triggering electronic bunfights and in practical terms mean a 25 minute wait to find that the seats you requested are no longer available, during which time all your second, third, fourth and seventeenth choices have gone too.  I spent a fruitless hour tilting at windmills tonight, not for the first time.

Gold - I'm still angry about the hidden Olympic flame.  Seb Coe has been very defensive when questioned, saying that "not a tourist attraction" and that LOCOG is following the example of the London games in 1948, when it was also kept inside the athletics stadium.  Just a thought, Lord Coe, but maybe the reason that was last done in 1948 is that someone had a better idea?  At that point scaffolding was probably rationed, or rooftop cauldrons of flame judged a risk for bombing raids.  Seb, you've misjudged the mood badly on this one.

Green - All home champions are to be commemorated in special edition stamps by the Royal Mail.  The Glover and Stanning one gets there faster than any of it's competitors, and the Bradley Wiggins stamp is equally valid in France.

Making the Games

I've talked a lot about the superb job done by London's  'Games Makers' - the 70,000 army of volunteers who serve as everything from guides to runners, PAs, ball-girls and brilliantly dry light entertainment.  It's hard to praise their collective charm and individual efforts enough.


Richard Collis is a chaperone at the Aquatics Centre, where his chief task is to make sure the medal-winning competitors make it smoothly and punctually from the pool through their press responsibilities and doping control to the podium itself and the medal ceremony.  'It's pretty awesome; even though I don't get to sit pool-side and watch the race I do get the hang out with the medalists for a short time', Rich tells me. 'I can't really think of a job I'd rather have... maybe dressing up as one of the mascots... or giving Jess Ennis a rub-down...'  

Rich, we need you on rub-downs this evening

'Seriously though, I volunteered because I wanted to be part of what could well be the biggest sporting event of our generation - to be able to look back and say 'I did my bit' (not like its a war or anything...) and be part of the 'legacy''


He may not get poolside until the races are over, but once released to collect the swimmers, he's close enough to hear Michael Phelps swearing himself silly after getting beaten into second place in the 200m Butterfly.  Who's he met?  'Phelps, Addlington, Tancock, Lochte, Mark Foster, and others.  He's 'building up to try and chat-up Sharon Davies'.  Perhaps the lure of the uniform will tip the balance for him.  


Rich achieved one slightly lesser ambition ;last night - a medal photo.  After the women's 200m individual medley, he found himself in the company of Australian triple medalist Alicia Coutts.  A few moments of witty banter and a flash of that uniform - the result?

'She invited the photo - I asked politely to hold the medal... then completely took the piss by biting it...'

I'm in danger of repeating myself, but we've struck gold with these Games Makers.  I've not met one who's above being thanked for that, either.

Swimming

From the outside, Zaha Hadid's Aquatic Centre is beautiful. From within it's a little bit compromised by its own aesthetics. Even the rows of seats midway up the enormous stands have virtually no view of any of the spectators on the opposite side of the pool, which detracts from the atmosphere terribly. The sightlines, even from the nosebleeds, are better than advertised, but the acoustics are not. Very hard to hear anything at all from the PA system, and harder still to make out what is being said. They seem to have borrowed a tannoy from Kings Cross. The seats are roomy and comfortable, at least.

Watching my first swim meet was an odd experience. After muffled exertions to 'make some noise' for half an hour before the swimmers emerged, they competed with very little fanfare. The organisation was impeccable – almost no time between races, and the ballet of synchronised volunteers ferrying kit and boxes around was oddly compelling when viewed from above.

There would be more atmosphere with some process that allowed impartial spectators to choose someone to support. As it is, faced with the early round of qualifying that contain competitors from the likes of Kuwait and Andorra, you pick on a hunch and never have any sense of anyone else's allegiances, which makes for a curiously detached experience. The Kuwaiti and Andorran are their nations' sole representatives in the swimming, which sounds like it must make for a slightly lonely experience. I hope they bond with each other, at least.

Being in the venue makes you think about a whole raft of human angles that you never consider at home. The swimmer who finishes seventeenth on a list of sixteen qualifiers, the journeys to get to that point cut short by a few fractions of a second.

Michael Phelps certainly doesn't give any indication of being The Greatest Olympian Of All Time. He's beaten into third in his heat, but it's hard to get a sense of how much he worked for it. There was a stretch when he kicked up a gear, and then he seemed to be able to exit the water faster and further on his butterfly stroke than anyone else in the field. Bowie comes on the tannoy talking about wanting to swim like the dolphins can swim. Apt. In this event, the seventeenth swimmer is a Brit. Four years is a long time to think about missing a qualification, but when it's the only sout you'll ever get at a home one it must be agony.

The slightly quiet centre suddenly buzzes to life late on. The noisiest sets of visiting fans are the Hungarians and Americans. There's one of each up against a British girl in the medley relay. Now it feels like a final. The American wins and the ubiquitous U-S-A chant fills the bleachers.

At the close of the session I manage to sneak into the prime seats poolside for a look around. The perspective is totally different, like seeing an airport from the runway after you've flown into it. Actually it's more like stepping off your plane – the temperature is different, the smell of chlorine is suddenly present. Oh to be able to afford to sit here on a finals night, to see the eyes of the competitors as the file out and take their marks... and after the race. Down here you're watching people swim, upstairs it's more like being in the war room, seeing small blocks moved around a table, aware of their significance but disconnected from it.

Outside the crowds leave and groups of star-spangled Americans gravitate to TV cameras like magnets, hoping to prove to those back home that they really are in London. They have a great knack for it - so I leave them to it and instead revive l'entente cordiale with the French.