The Olympic Files: Day Seven.

"Show me some love, Mo!"
It was worth every moment. It was worth every Wimbledon semi final defeat. Worth enduring the sheer torture of every last England football tournament, Cricket World Cup defeats, disqualified, disgraced athletes, and all the agonizing nearly moments in Rugby, Golf, Hockey, Cycling, etc etc etc. 

More than anything - on a personal level, it made sitting through every moment of Atlanta 1996; the Olympic Games, known for the solitary Gold medal Britain achieved over the entire Summer, worthwhile too. For in my own short life, three-decades of constant disappointment, agony - and a feeling as if God himself is merely cashing in his receipts for the crusades, should have left myself and every other Brit, with a tank emptied of its faith; but it never has. No matter how low we go, we always believe that maybe, just maybe, it is finally going to be the night of the Lions... and then, we lose.

Being British, you grow used to sporting failure. It is not from a lack of desire, effort, or even talent; our nations carries all three in abundance. It is just that over the years, success on a global stage at any sport, has remained so minimal. We know victory is possible, but the day has eluded us so much, we resort to desperately overselling defeated semi-final sides, to the point of organzising open top bus celebrations for them.
Over the last day, the British Olympic team managed to achieve what I can only consider to be the finest hour of this nation. Yes, we can be arrogant, overbearing, and a little dismissive of opponents, who then go on to teach us a lesson. But with two Olympic Rowing Golds in the morning, A Cycling Gold in the afternoon, the day was setting out to become something special; not from any form of delusion, but from sheer hard work, determination, and a desire to show the world - on our own home soil, that the Great in Great Britain, can, some times, have genuine meaning.

The triple Gold achievements tonight of Jessica Ennis, Greg Ruhterford, and Mo Farrah, were much bigger than mere personal achievements - though, it was all them which made it happen. It was a culmination of a nation waiting seven years to show that on its day, when it really matters, will deliver all that it can. One Gold would have been pleasing. Two, a wonderful feeling. To attain all three possible first places, is beyond the recognition of most upon this island. The beautiful element of London 2012, is its main aim has been to inspire a generation; if a night like tonight cannot do that, than nothing ever will.  

Tomorrow I head into Central London, expecting to see a nation full to the tank of pride. Stand tall if you are from this island. Be proud of our ability to organise the Olympic Games, support our nation regardless of the outcome, and to keep believing, when everyone across every river and ocean, looks down upon you, as believing you are better than you truly are. On this night, Britain is the greatest sporting nation on Earth; I never, ever, ever, though I would write that. 

Twelve months ago today, the London riots began. How ironic, yet poetic, that the first anniversary of one of London's darkest days, is celebrated by one of London - and Great Britain's, finest. Until the next time...


No comments:

Post a Comment