THE BEST thing about listening to the Athens Olympics rather than watching them was not having to see that terrible opening sequence, the one where the CGI athletes would pursue a real one to the steps of ancient Olympia itself, or wherever. Every time coverage switched from BBC One to Two or back, which took place nearly as often as a silver medal-winning shuttlecock was smashed over the net by plucky Brits Emms and Thingy (famous for 15 minutes or what?), we got the introductory video. “We’ve paid several million for this,” the message went, “and we’re going to use it.”
On Radio Five Live there was none of that, mainly because when you got up in the morning the Olympics were on, and there they stayed, more or less, until closing time. Yes, other people — Victoria Derbyshire, Simon Mayo — drifted in and out, but you could be sure that if something exciting was brewing at the velodrome they’d be off there before you could say: “What’s a Madison? What’s a Kierin? Why do I care?”
To be honest there were bits that had to be watched. The synchronised diving. The weightlifting (which you can’t believe until you’ve seen it). The gymnastics. The rowing. Actually, I could have listened to the rowing commentary had it not been by Alan Green. In Sydney 2000 he was OK, being fairly new to the job and insecure. By Athens the “I know everything” Green style so familiar to followers of football phone-ins was well in place.
Luckily, I listened to Paula Radcliffe’s humiliation in the marathon. I had stuff to take to the municipal dump and I thought, no problem, I’ll listen while I’m shifting the grass mowings and be home for the triumphant last five miles or so. Instead, I was back nicely in time to watch a great athlete turn into a puddle. I switched off the telly, and let John Rawling and Allison Curbishley tell me about it instead. Which they did with the tact and intelligence they showed throughout the athletics week of the Games.
Didn’t they do well? Rawling we have come to respect as a man who manages to combine commentary on athletics — where things can get, let’s admit it, a little highly strung, not to say twee — and boxing, where if you don’t come back with a broken nose, you’re not trying. And Athens saw him in the form of his life. Never at a loss for words or an appropriate statistic, his was the invisible tenth British gold of the Olympiad.
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As for Curbishley, she was a revelation. A top athlete herself, she brought insight and humanity into opinions delivered in a soft, husky voice that made strong men fall at her radiophonic feet. Well, not Rawling, for he is a pure and noble breed, unlike the rest of us.
Sadly, it wasn’t a great Olympics for helmsman and Star Personality John Inverdale. For once, his bounding puppy act just wasn’t appropriate. Rugby players love him, golfers treat him like some bizarre but friendly being from another planet (which is a bit rich, coming from golfers), but athletic types could make neither head nor tail of him. “Why don’t they (insert whimsical suggestion of choice here)?” he would ask of someone.
“Er, no,” they would say, edging away from the microphone and looking around for a policeman. They just didn’t get him at all. They are deeply serious people, while he is a character out of P. G. Wodehouse.
One thing before I log off for a fortnight — having put in your hours of Olympics listening over the past couple of weeks, then please be back fit and fighting for the Paralympics, which begin on September 17. They need us listening — it’s a crying shame, but they do.