tastebudds

For most of the way, Hellen Cherono of Kenya seemed well on top, but determined Australian Kerryn McCann remained hot on her tracks, desperately clinging onto what’s left battered by sheer demoralisation. We buried our faces in hands - Cherono appeared younger, fitter and more ready to dish out the goods. Could 38 year-old McCann defy the odds? With two kilometres to go, and the MCG in full sight, McCann mustered all her might, by now fuelled only by the roar from the MCG. And she did it.

In a magnificent triumph over her competitor, McCann took the gold, and her son, by the hand, and proudly marched around the stadium, basking in well-earned glory. We punched our fists in the air, cheered, even cried out in jubilance, absent-mindedly forgetting: how did she do it?

And how heartwrenching was the moment when Craig Mottram (from the 4 X 100 sprint) was tripped to the ground, all because he was a victim of a simple chain reaction!

One cannot deny the magic that surrounds the Games. It makes you abandon all routine, however important, so we may stand stock-still in time to admire their courage, strength and power. It sucks you into this vortex of emotional highs and lows as you watch the heroes of our generation face the difficulties that parallel those of our lives. Everybody loves a good drama, and this is no exception. We root for the underdog, back up our favourites, and share their joys and sorrows. To borrow Ben Lee’s lyric “We’re all in this together” plainly describes how we all are equally spellbound by this magic.

I must confess, I’m not a huge sporting fan. But there are times when I succumb to brilliant packaging offered by international sporting events such as the Games, where I suddenly become abnormally interested in all sporting events. Personally I find squash one of the most retarded games invented (hitting against a wall? come on!) but even that sparked some excitement in me. Synchronised swimming took much flak for its credibility as a sport, but I don’t care - it’s sheer hard work and sexy legs that counts. The more I watched the athletes, the more I learned who I liked and who I didn’t, which ultimately determined who I rooted for, because it’s not so much the better player than it is the better personality I wanted to win.

In this one moment in basketball where one player had fallen, it was so interesting to note how everyone in the crowd went “ooh” all at the same time. That unison made me think. Did that moment strip us bare to our human core? To those who were blind to the pathetic attempts by racial rioters to divide us, are we really all that different? When athletes reached breaking point, I was undeniably moved by the single tear because not only did it reveal their pride, but also their vulnerability as human beings, and for me this has become so reassuring in this increasingly cold and segregated society. In my books, this is what reality tv should really be about. (and not bombastic, lewd personalities purposely caught parading in their birthday suits)

Judging from the spectacular closing ceremony, Melbourne sure has set the bar pretty high for Delhi 2010. Now all I can do is sit and wait in anticipation for more “yoga-inspired” and “lightbulb-twisting” dance routines, and maybe, just maybe, my next sporgasm.