Okay so here’s the deal. For SEVERAL days now I have been trying to compose something intelligible about the Olympics. I have started several drafts, updated countless results and profiled numerous athletes. But now, ten days in, I have come to the conclusion that attempting to write any kind of comprehensive or lucid account of the games whilst they are still ongoing is just shy of impossible. It’s not gonna happen. I just can’t do it. It’s all too much. There’s too much happening. It’s all too exciting. To be honest, I’m so enthralled I can hardly cope.
I’m just in awe of the whole thing. The stadium is magnificent. The enthusiasm is infectious. The pressure is on. The support is overwhelming. The competition is fierce. I’m totally enamoured with the athletes. All of ‘em. The determination. The dedication. The ridiculous physiques. The hours and months of training we didn’t see. The glorious wins and the crushing losses. The favourites and the dark horses. The injuries, the disqualifications, the record breakers, the close calls. They’re better than me. They’re younger than me. I want to see their twitter pictures. I’m even finding myself coming close to emotion at every medal ceremony I witness. Doesn’t matter what anthem is being played, if the medallists are welling up, I’m playing too. I do realise what a ridiculous person I am, but damnit it’s all just so feckin’ inspirational.
Will, Kate and their ever-present third wheel, everyone’s favourite royal, Harry the rascal, have been in attendance at several events, as has David Cameron. Paul McCartney was at track cycling. Bill Gates was at the tennis semi-final. David Beckham has been at the football. Bar Rafaeli cheered on Phelps at the swimming. Even Michelle “Tha Bomb” Obama came over to continue telling everyone to quit being so damn fat.
But this is all so new and unexpected. Three months ago I was wholeheartedly agreeing with my London-based cousin who ranted about the commuting issues she was expecting to face when the hysteria descended. In January, my beloved Christmas ads were replaced with patriotic, Olympic hype from across the Irish Sea. As the Budweiser Clydesdales were put out to pasture for another year and the Coca Cola lorries disappeared over the snowy horizon, we now had Fairy telling us that it takes 20,000 dishes to build an athlete, Ariel telling us that it’s the colours you came in that matter, British Airways commentating an international luggage race through the airport and Usain Bolt racing a bearded dude through London on behalf of Visa.
“This is all we’re gonna be hearing about now for the rest of the year.” I griped.
I hadn’t cared about Beijing in 2008 and I didn’t care now.
I do like this ad for Asics though…
Except somewhere, sometime, somehow, I kiiiiinda started to care. And then I started to care a little more. And then it was July and I started to get excited. And then it was time for the opening ceremony and I nearly lost the whole run of myself with enthusiasm. I sat through the whole thing. It was amazing.
Since then, I have been riveted. My life has all but come to a standstill. I’m living in constant fear that I might miss something big. It’s really no way/the only way to be living. I’ve become a proper inexperienced expert, with an opinion on how everyone’s doing despite actually knowing jack shit about anything I’m talking about. You can expect to see evidence of this in the upcoming paragraphs.
The other day my brother and I were watching the Kayak Slalom. I’ve never watched a kayak competition before in my life.
“How’s yer man doing?”
“Eoin Rheinisch? He’ll qualify but he’ll not be in the top ten.”
“What’s his time?”
“1.89 something. Slow enough.”
Another evening was spent watching weightlifting with my dad… Yeah, weightlifting.
“How much does this guy have to lift now?”
“78KG.”
“And he’s failed twice so far? Nah. He’ll not do it. That left leg’ll get him again.”
“He might, you know. He almost had it last time.”
Point being? I’m in. I’m on board. I’ve got Olympic fever and I’m loving every second of it. I’m watching athletics and swimming and archery and equestrian and canoeing and weightlifting and diving and gymnastics and rowing and sailing and cycling and judo and volleyball. I’m watching it all. Except for handball. Handball is poxy.
Ireland have a team there. Course we do, bless our little cotton socks. We haven’t done all that tremendously well so far. But God loves a trier so we’ve sent over no less than 65 rosy Irish cheeks to have a go. Poor aul Grainne Murphy didn’t have a great time in the aquatic centre, losing her first race and later deciding to pull out. Leixlip canoeist, Eoin Rheinisch was doing fierce well there for a while but missed a gate in the slalom semi-finals, ending his Olympics in a matter of seconds. Aileen Morrison was our hardcore triathlete. She came 43rd. Well done. Kieran Behan, Ireland’s only competing gymnast (who, let the records show, was born in Laaaandan) was done after qualifications. Joanne Cuddihy placed 16th out of 21 in the 400m semi-finals. As I type, Derval O’Rourke has managed to qualify for the 100m hurdles semis tomorrow. Even back in the RTE studios they’re like, “It’s the first time she’s run sub 10 seconds this season. This race isn’t about winning for Derval. It’s about breaking those barriers for herself.”… Well, good for her, but she’s currently 16th overall and up against faster women like American runner Lolo Jones and Australian Sally Pearson.
Some of our Irish team. Clockwise (L-R): Swimmer, Grainne Murphy. Canoeist, Eoin Rheinisch. Gymnast, Kieran Behan. Sailor Annalise Murphy. 400m Joanne Cuddihy. 100m hurdler Derval O’Rourke and triathlete, Aileen Morrison.
Still though, while we unreservedly support every man and woman competing in green over there, we can’t be too disappointed. We never had our eggs in those baskets anyway. Nah. We don’t breed swimmers, gymnasts or sprinters here in Ireland. There are three types of athlete bred up in here. The first is the racehorse (Shergar, Rock of Gibraltar). The second is the GAA star (DJ Carey, Davey Fitzgerald, Jack O Se). And the third… Well, the third is boxers. We may not cycle all that brilliantly or have the best archers in the world but by gosh darn it we can give ya a good slap. Kevin McBride, Sam Storey, Barry McGuigan, Steve Collins, John Duddy, Bernard Dunne. Champions.
With this in mind, most of our eggs lie in the baskets of just four people. Paddy Barnes, Michael Conlan, John Joe Nevin and one miss Katie Taylor. All four Irish boxers made it through to their quarter-final matches.
Nevin, Barnes, Conlan and Taylor
Last night John Joe Nevin secured Ireland’s first medal, thrilling a nation. Bronze is his. He beat Mexican, Oscar Valdez in his quarter final bantamweight match. And he looked fuckin’ wrecked when it was over. He’ll fight again for silver on August 10th. Also, can I just point out one thing about John Joe Nevin; He boxes for Cavan boxing club (wayhey!!)
But yeah, these are Ireland’s medal hopes. Katie Taylor is Ireland’s own Jessica Ennis. Our face for the Olympics and our biggest bet for gold. She is the current Irish, world and European women’s boxing champion. Back home in Bray she’s been known to spar with fellow Olympic boxer, Paddy Barnes. She was also in that awesome ad for Lucozade sport with Tinie Tempah and Travis Barker. And she’ll fight today. A win guarantees Ireland’s own little fighting machine a bronze medal. It also advances her to the semi-final. A win there guarantees her a silver medal and advances her to the final on Thursday evening where a win would, of course, earn her the coveted and illusive gold.
Here she is showing what she’s made of in a spar against Paddy Barnes:
Aside from the excitement of the possibility of a medal for Ireland, so much has been going on lads! Have ya seen much of it so far? It’s been treeeeemendous!
The first event that got me all psyched up was the Men’s Synchronised 10m Platform last Monday. Wee Tom Daley was diving with his partner Pete Waterfield (not Waterman, totally different guy). They finished in 4th place after a bad final dive.
I love Tom Daley. Not in that paedo “phwoar” way that hoards of teenage girls or the pervs that work for Heat magazine do (he was Torso of the Week last week. He’s 18 lads. Don’t be sinners.). Nah, I like him more in a “aw, look at him there! I just wanna pinch his cheeks and carry him home in my pocket,” sort of a way. I watched that documentary on BBC a couple of weeks ago, ‘Diving For Britain’. It was about Tom and his mission towards the Olympics. Now, I don’t cry at movies (cold, black heart, remember?), but I cried watching this documentary. I know, I’m so embarrassed. BUT, like it featured his dad who was his greatest supporter and friend and went to every training session and every competition. He died last year from cancer of the brain. The documentary captured his whole illness and lickle Tom’s reaction. I defy you to watch this and not cry as a dying man talks about his fear that he might not get to see his son compete at the Olympics. My brother said this: “You’re on his twitter now? You do realise that he’s a poncy little wanker, don’t you?” But I don’t. I think he’s a lovely and extraordinarily talented young buck. He’s diving next in the Men’s 10m Platform individuals on August 10th.
Awwww, Tom Daley. Individual 10m platform. August 10 guys.
The swimming events took place this week too. They. Were. Awesome!!! One name dominated the whole show. Phelps. Now a former swimmer, these games saw Phelps tally up his number of Olympic medals to 22, making him the most decorated Olympian of all time. I mean, the guy is just ridiculous. Thank God he’s giving up. It was like Formula 1 back when Michael Schumacher owned the whole thing. It was less exciting because you just always knew that he was gonna win it. Apparently Michael Phelp’s arms, when spread out, measure 2m across. He’d wrap ‘em around most of us twice! You also have to give love him for that time he was pictured smoking a bong. Oh Mickey, you naughty little scamp! Olympic swimmers don’t smoke weed! Silly pup!
The greatest Olympian of all time, Michael Phelps, in and, uh, out of the pool…
Friday saw the start of athletics. What the Olympics is really all about. I was all over the Women’s Heptathlon. You know why. She’s been the most prominent face of Team GB. She’s everywhere. She was on the cover of Cosmo this month. She’s staring out from magazine pages as the face of Olay. Yeah, I’m talking about Jessica Ennis. I’m not sure any athlete competing in the games right now has had as much pressure on them to achieve as this chick.
Before last week I didn’t really know what a heptathlon was. Matter fact, turns out I’ve been pronouncing it wrong my whole entire life. Hep-A-thlon. No. Hep-TA-thlon. Anyways, so turns out it consists of 100m hurdles, 200m sprint, 800m sprint, high-jump, long-jump, javelin throw and shot put. Guys? That’s seven things!
Jessica Ennis has been heavily publicised this year. She’s had the whole of Great Britain behind her. I’ve been behind her too. We feel like we know her. She’s from Sheffield. She’s got a dog called Myla, a fiancé called Andy and reckons she makes a mean lasagne. She’s relatable. Except get the fuck with that! Jessica Ennis only seems like the rest of us. In reality, when you are getting up to pee at 6am and hoping to god you can get back to sleep for an hour and a half before your alarm goes off, Jessica Ennis is probably sprinting on a track in the cold morning air. When you are griping about having too much to carry in from the car (a top personal gripe of mine), Jessica Ennis is probably working on her javelin throw. When you are struggling to climb the stairs after that really intense 45minute-long zumba class, Jessica Ennis is probably having an ice-bath after a six hour training session. When you are chowing down on a full-Irish and a packet of Rancheros, Jessica Ennis is probably eating three bananas and a bowl of porridge. She’s not like you and me. She’s an athlete. And that’s the reason she won the gold medal in the London 2012 Women’s Heptathlon in what I have decided was the greatest moment of the games thus far.
Heptathlete Jessica Ennis burst into tears as she crossed the 800m line, securing her first Olympic gold.
It was amazing. By the time the last heptathlon event rolled around on Saturday evening; the 800m, Jessica was in the lead. She won her semi-final, earning enough points to make her unmatchable. She cinched the gold and burst into tears as she crossed the line. She ran 800m, eight football fields, in 2minutes 8seconds. Yesterday I decided to run 400m, just to see. I ran it in 1minute and 54 seconds. Almost two minutes. To run half of what Jessica Ennis ran in just 14 seconds more. And I was fit to collapse after. Pathetic.
Saturday, as it turned out, was Great Britain’s most successful day at the Olympics in 104 years as they took home six golds. Jessica Ennis, of course, won the heptathlon. Then there was golds in the Men’s Long Jump. Two rowing golds. Cycling gold and then the thinnest man I’ve ever seen, Somali-born, British runner, Mo Farah won the 10,000m. Sure it’s all happening lads!
Golds for GB. Clockwise (L-R): Cyclist Bradley Wiggins, Long jumper Greg Rutherford, Tennis champ Andy Murray, 10,000m Mo Farah, Shooter Peter Wilson, Cyclist Victoria Pendleton, Rowers Sophie Hoskins and Katherine Copeland and Heptathlete Jessica Ennis.
Ultimately though, at this point, it’s all about one guy. They call him Usain. He thinks he’s Richard Branson. But he is, in fact, the fastest man on the planet. He loves chicken nuggets, dancing and he regularly tweets pictures of himself playing Call of Duty. He said he’s 95% fit for these games. He also said that, if he feels up to it after the 100m, he might go for gold in the 200m; “for my country, why not?”.
Last night Usain qualified for the 100m finals with a time of 09.87. In the second semi-final Bolt’s fellow Jamaican and training partner, Yohan Blake won with a time of 09.85. Faster than Richard Branson and his high speed broadband. The final was at ten to ten. Eight of the fastest men in the world lined up and millions took ten seconds out of their hectic lives to see who’d take the gold. But you know who took it. You know who’d take it from the start. The Lightening Bolt ran it in 09.63 seconds, a new Olympic record (he would, wouldn’t he) and proof that his winning semi-final time was the result of him not even bothering to try.
Team mates, training partners, rivals, Usain Bolt and Yohan Blake after Bolt’s 100m win last night
He was, predictably, followed by Blake at 09.75 and then American, Justin Gatlin for the bronze in 09.79. It was EPIC! Bolt runs again in round one of the 200m on Tuesday. He’ll win it. Course he will. Look at the big gangly arms on him. No contest.
And that’s pretty much where we’re at so far. The week ahead looks good too, set to be dominated by boxing for us. We’ll see more from Usain Bolt from Tuesday. Little Tom Daley dives again on August 10th. Dublin girl, Annalise Murphy is sailing today. She’s in with a chance of another Irish medal. With a bit of luck we might see Billy Twomey or Cian O’Connor in the showjumping final on Wednesday. We’ll have some more canoeing, rhythmic gymnastics. Taekwondo begins on Wednesday. And, of course, athletics will go on in the stadium up to Friday.
Then, on Sunday, it will all end. There will be a big-ass ceremony. The athletes will march again. There will be winners and, uh, LOSERS! Muse will play. Take That will play. London will hand over the Olympics to the next host city for the 2016 Olympic Games, Rio de Janeiro. And then… The flame will be extinguished. And I will be devastated. Because the excitement will be over for another four years.
Hold up, wait, I’m getting all melancholic for no good reason! There’s still a whole week to go! There’s so much still to come. So many medals still to be won. It’s not over yet. And to be honest with ya, I’ll probably be back here again next week doing this again.
Oh also, there are no videos of the Olympics available on youtube right now hence why I haven’t embedded any. They’re so darned protective of that shit. Sincere apologies.
Here’s Usain being Richard Branson for the craic…
sureitsallabitofcraic 
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