Olympics 6: Ladies Marathon

A quick one in both spectator and blog terms. Waking up from a late morning nap on Sunday, it dawned on me that the ladies marathon was coming to a close less than a mile from my house. We jumped out of bed (or in Christina's case as close to jumping out of bed as a 36 week pregnant lady can do) and strolled up Waterloo road to grab a piece of the action.  

We could tell we were cutting it fine as TV helicopters were circling the north bank of the Thames just west of Blackfriars. Stepping up the pace, we popped on to south side of Waterloo bridge just in time to see the leaders running past on the other side of the river. By the time we crossed the runners were coming through in larger numbers. Crowds were lining the streets and the top of the bridge from where we peered down onto the action. Striding athletes, a noisy crowd, flags galore and plenty of umbrellas. Fortunately for us a short heavy rain shower had dispersed the crowd enough to allow us to park ourselves with a good vantage point.

Each time an athlete ran by cheers would ring out, with particularly great receptions for the Brits and, of course, those bringing up the rear of the field. Before we knew it they, and the related mini burst of exhilaration, had passed and a renewed rain shower sent us scurrying back to the South Bank for some munch. Normal Sunday renewed.

Short, sharp, random and worth the effort. I will be sure to try and make it to the men's race next Sunday.

Olympics 5: Hockey

The time had finally arrived, I was on my way to Stratford and pumped. A statement I could not imagine myself saying outside of the Olympic context. Attitudes to east London take some changing.

As I jumped off the tube and followed the crowds along the circuitous route to the Olympic park my heart was racing. As with all the venues I have been to, cheery volunteers were aplenty, urging people on with smiles and the odd high five. A quick security check, around a corner and there it was. Giant gates welcoming the world to London 2012 in the foreground and the Olympic stadium itself dominating the background. As I walked through those gates a tear came to my eye. I am not embarrassed about it. A real surge of emotion brought on by pride and excitement.

 

When rationalised it seems slightly odd that this emotion should be so strong when I have not been involved in preparing for the games (bar paying plenty of tax into government coffers), nor know anyone who is competing on a personal level. It comes down to feeling part of a wider collective. As a Londoner, as a Brit, but also as a human being. Dismiss such thoughts with cynicism if you will, but from the moment I stepped through those gates I was surrounded by people draped in flags from every corner of the earth who had come together in the Olympic cause and were ...  hold it.... happy.

 

After I had taken in the magnificence of the stadium and started on the long trek across the complex to the Riverside Arena for the hockey, my first thought was how this Olympic park suited London. At initial look it is basically ugly. A bunch of odd, though in some instances very funky and cool, buildings rising from a mass of concrete. Then as you look closer you notice the hidden gems. On the opposite side of the main thoroughfare from the largest McDonald's I have ever seen (how fitting to "Inspire a Generation") the land drops down via grassy wildflower strewn slopes to a stream. This green area then opens up to form a natural amphitheatre which encircles and focuses upon massive live action screens perched above the water. This provides a huge area for spectators to sit and watch the games unfold and reverberates at each each golden moment.

THE HOCKEY

Like half of the stadia for these Games, the Riverside Arena is only a temporary venue. A giant piece of scaffolding draped in the odd piece of logo filled cloth. A great idea. London does not need a 10,000 seater plus hockey venue and when you step through the metal pole innards and out into the stands it looks great.

 

I arrived just as the Dutch national anthem was playing to a vibrant scene. The bright blue and pink pitch was surrounded by supporters wearing every colour. As hockey is a major sport in the Netherlands and their ladies are number 1 in the world it should not have been a surprise that the dominant colour was orange. I would say 20% of the crowd were proudly wearing this most recognisable national colour and making loads of noise with boisterous chants. For the opposition, the Chinese, there were a few flags and the odd baffled chant of "China, China" (only slightly less monotonous and dull then "U S A, U S A").

 

With the sun out, the exorbitantly expensive beers going down the hatch (over 4 quid for a small bottle of Heineken!) and the sight of 11 beautiful Dutch girls constantly pressurising the Chinese with some top skills, it was fair to say that I was in a good place. To give the Chinese credit, they defended like their lives depended on it, putting their bodies on the line especially at short corners where they threw themselves in the way of some viscous shots. The thrashing that had been threatened when the Dutch went 1 - 0 up early in the first half never materialised, as China held them to that solitary score all the way to the final whistle.

 

Next up were the Germans vs the South Africans. Both had their supporters, but the place had somewhat emptied out with many of the Dutch leaving to other venues or I suspect the odd pub. This was a far better match-up with the Germans eventually edging it. The few beers were though taking their toll and I have to admit that by mid way through the second half my concentration was not what it was. More people watching than ball watching but fun none the less.

 

On my way out I had just enough time to wander over to see the impressive velodrome and the bobbly basketball arena which has apparently been sold to the Brazilians for 2016. The path then took me back over the hidden valley and along the main concourse with the masses strolling out from the various afternoon sessions. Such a great vibe. I was particularly impressed by all the funkily dressed foreign fans. French cockerels, Bolivian indians, a cross-dressing Spanish flamenco dancer and a number of oddly dressed Belgians who I thought it best not to photograph.

 

 

Next stop the volleyball... but first a thanks to Dan for giving me the hockey ticket. 

Olympics 4: Boxing

Welcome to London Excel, home of the Olympic fighting events for 2012.

A little over a year ago when many people where still firmly in the complaining camp when it came to the Olympics, at least 3 of my mates turned down the opportunity of going to the boxing when I found some tickets on a German website. That was a mistake.

As with all the events we have been to so far it was excellently organised. Barely any queues and with well placed beer en route to watch Rebecca Addlington secure bronze in the pool. Walking into the arena, a difference in the make up of the crowd was immediately obvious in comparison to the events I have been to so far. Gone were the families and in were the testosterone charged males. The place was full to a 10,000 person capacity, all rearing to watch men beat the hell out of each other.

A roar greeted the first fighters from USA and France. I was excited. The muscle bound hard men of the Olympics were coming out to show us what a real man is. Out they came and... really? Seriously? I was confused and, I shouldn't really say but will do anyway, a touch amused.Yup, not known to me before that moment, I had landed tickets to the last 16 of the fly division. Believe or not, that means sub 52 kg blokes (basically 8 stone and less). That is smaller than my sister. Muscled up for sure, but they guys were so small that when they jumped into the ring you could barely see them over the ropes!

That all said, the blokes were ridiculously fast and in at least two of the fights went at each other hell for leather. All flailing arms, bobs and weaves. The French guy eventually pipped the Yankee by a point, before the atmosphere went up a couple of gears to welcome an Irish fighter to the ring. It was great to see such support for an Irish guy in London and chants of "IRELAND, IRELAND" ruled out as he easily progressed to the next round.

That was though nothing compared to the reception that Brit Andrew Selby received when coming into the ring to take on a Kazakhstani. The place literally shook. He rode the crest of the wave and eventually won through 19-15 to the last 8. With beverage in hand, the crowd roared out "GB GB GB" and "SELLLLLBY" and looked thoroughly satisfied with themselves.

The welter weights were up next. Still only under 69 kg, but these guys looked hard. Amongst others, we saw a mightily impressive Cuban, a fantastically and colourfully supported Venezuelan, a lanky yet relatively ineffectual Japanese and a no nonsense Ukrainian. The best part though was watching an Indian guy defeat the last American left in the competition. As the pundit put it, USA amateur boxing was on the canvas with no boxers left in the last 8 of any division. Shocking when you consider that the USA have won at least 1 boxing medal in every post war Games.

Another event at the Olympics and more good times. Not quite as quirky and fun as the Beach Volleyball, but a new experience for me and a very good one at that. It has also taught me to be more wary of little people with gloves on... Next step hockey and the Olympic park...

Olympics 3: Archery

As an event in itself, this was the one that I was least excited about going to. To be honest I only applied for archery because of the iconic location, Lords cricket ground. I am a die hard cricket fan, so the idea of watching any sport at the home of cricket spurred an interest in me.

 

I walked out after nearly 4 thoroughly entertaining hours a convert not just to archery, but on a much wider level to the cause of all the more random little known sports at the Olympics. People with a common dedication to a sport that is largely ignored for the intervening 3 years and 50 weeks between Olympics, come together from the four corners of the planet (literally, with people competing from as far afield as North Korea, Mexico, Denmark and Bhutan) to show the world the results of their hard work and honed ability. Crowds who turn up with little or no knowledge of the sport throw themselves into supporting any and everyone, cheering every arrow and making the experience such a special one for the competitors.

 

Again, the setting helped. The archers walk out from the historic terracotta pavilion to rapturous applause and are greeted by a beautiful arena. A few steps forward and they take their positions on the relatively narrow shooting area which is flanked by two large stands especially erected for the competition and opens out to the cricket square and then, eventually, the targets. I have to emphasise just how far it is and just how small the target is. That is something that just does not come across on the TV. When someone is shooting a "bad" score of 7 out of 10, that just means they have missed the bull by 30 cm from something like 70 meters.

Like the other two events we have been to so far, there was a real festival atmosphere. Going to the Olympics was clearly very special to so many people at Lords, whether because compatriots, friends or family were competing, people came from far afield or from just around the corner to take their kids to this one off event. This had a cumulative affect to produce a jovial and celebratory air.

 

The highlight of the morning was undoubtedly GB's Amy Oliver getting the best result of her career, knocking out the world number one from India. She shot her heart out, feeding off raucous support from the crowd. So many GB flags, one of them wrapped around my little boy. Also fantastic were the loco Mexican fans and the exceedingly enthusiastic South Koreans, who cheered on their countrymen to the later rounds.

A couple of perfect sets (three bulls for a score of 30), a fighting loss by a charismatic Dane, an eventual defeat for the Brit and huge cheers for the not so proficient Bhutanese lady later, it was time to head home. A great morning and I even got to stroke the hallowed Lords turf on my way out!

 

Next stop boxing...