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The Olympic Files: Day Four.


Tickets are available for Sunday evenings Athletics – the day of the 100 meters sprint final, at the measly sum of £50.00. By lady lucks velvet hand, I arrive online moments after LOCOG - the unofficial Olympic Nazi party, have advertised them. In a heartbeat I decide to attempt to buy them; it is the biggest single global sporting showcase, and to top it all off, is taking place in my own backyard; city wise, anyway. Adrenaline rushes through me, and - trying to think positive, believe maybe, just maybe, my calls for the Gods of humanity to finally get my arse to the Games, have been heeded; in the mightiest way possible.

Most events have come up with new tickets. I am happy to experience anything, but place my initial eggs into the athletics. On clicking the official sites checkout basket, a screen arises of a timed 15 minute wait; to check if they are still ready for purchase. I am anxious. For the next quarter of an hour – well, more like half an hour; the timer moves back and forth like a clock in a Hitchcock movie. As I sit rigid on my bed with my laptop on – of all places, my lap. I explain to my girlfriend how the 100 meters is the centrepiece of every Summer Games, and how we would be lucky lucky bastards, to get through; she is positive. I am too. I don’t know why.

Minutes pass, very slowly. 12… 11… 9… 11… 14…. 8… 5… eventually, the clock reaches less than one minute. I clench my fist under my mouth, quietly preying to myself. The page changes; SORRY, NO MORE TICKETS ARE AVAILABLE! I am disappointed, but not shocked. I never expected a chance at this event, but as it dawns on me how I – much like hundreds of thousands of others, have likely just experience the same frustration, I realise a Usain Bolt carrot has been dangled before our eyes, which may not even have existed. And for this; born from a mixture of frustration and bemusement, I have nothing more to call the Olympic organisers, than a bunch of greedy, money grabbing, wankers.

I return to the search page, deciding to apply for the less popular Women’s Basketball, Handball, and Volleyball; purely to experience the Games in person. I go through the 15 minute screen, again. 45 minutes later, the usual screen arrives; SORRY, NO MORE TICKETS. By now, most tickets have gone; all I want to do is watch some Handball or a little Hockey even. I wouldn’t mind, but every time I watch an event on Television, they are never full to capacity. I give up searching. I have – like most people in this nation, have had the world’s greatest sporting event given to them by design, then taken away by agenda.

I feel immense sympathy for the British. We are a nation of sport lovers, and enjoy a good party from the salts of life’s beauty. An Olympics supposedly won for the people, to be enjoyed by the people, has proven to be a fucking disgrace; dominated by political agendas and self-serving corporate bullshit. From the IOC’s cahoots deals with Macdonald’s to not allow chips to be sold in the Olympic Park by anyone than their fat child making garbage food, to the Olympic Park costing a tenner just to enter; the British taxpayer is having to pay, to enter a venue their money built. It is sickening but ironic, how a nation so big on its monarchy, has been royally fucked!

I love the Olympic Games. I love the athletes, the fans, and the unity it brings to the real people of this world. Sadly, London 2012 is in danger of becoming the Games remembered for nothing more than totalitarian corporations, the fucked-up nature of power and ambition, and the reality that a Mother of an Olympic gymnast, has to watch her own daughter perform on a Television screen outside the arena, while slimy suited scumbags leave hundreds of seats vacant inside.

The tickets are hot, leave many people cold, and seem to be obtained by ghosts. Fuck you IOC. I am just glad the athletes are all about the medals.

Until the next time…

Lee.

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