среда, 19 сентября 2012 г.

Forget archery. Streaking is original Olympic pursuit TOM SHIELDS ON THE GAMES - The Sunday Herald

IT is safe once again to watch television now that the Olympicsare over. There is much less chance of finding Team BBC going allhyper-jingo because some bloke has paddled his canoe a bit fasterthan the rest and got a gold medal for it.

Even worse was when Team BBC got all depressed because a weelassie has fell aff her BMX bike and failed to contribute toBritain's stupendous collection of medals.

I do not buy into this Team GB business. It's a copy of Team USAand if GB is going to be naffily patriotic, it should be done in amore British way. Or, preferably, not at all.

What is the big deal, anyway, about this haul of medals? Most ofthem were awarded for messing about in boats, going a bike, orsitting on a horse. Not very Olympian pursuits.

The Olympics are not very Olympian these days. They are playingsoftball which, apparently, is a variation on rounders. They arewindsurfi ng.

They are jumping about on trampolines and surely it will not belong until the bouncy castle is included as a discipline.

Some of the so-called sports are so high-tech, you wonder wherethe individual skill factor comes in. Archery involves bits of kitthat look more Nintendo Wii than Robin Hood.

Same with the shooting, apparently.

But I'm a big fan of small bore shooting. I think they shouldshoot some big bores as well. Compile your own list of targets.

Perhaps, we might return to the original ancient Greek concept.The first written report on the Olympics dates from 776BC which is along time ago, just before my dear colleague Doug Gillon startedcovering the games for the Herald.

My research assistant Wikipedia reveals that the 776BC Olympiadconsisted of just one event, the stade which was a run ofapproximately 210 yards. It was won by a cook called Coroebus whoran naked.

Coroebus is the first recorded Olympic champion and possibly thefirst known streaker.

The ancient Greek games featured a pursuit called pankrationwhich spectators of a bloodthirsty disposition might like to seerestored to the modern Olympics. Pankration was not so much a sportas unmitigated violence.

Punching, kicking and choking were all allowed. An adeptpankraist would be able to deliver the 'straight kick to thestomach'.

Other pankraistic niceties include the 'tracheal dig using thethumb' and the 'choke from behind using the forearm'.

Were pankration introduced for London 2012, I can imagine acommentator on Team BBC enthusing over a superb tracheal grip chokeas a Team GB pankraist goes for gold.

We might even have the modern pankration which would involve theuse of knives and guns as well as punching, kicking and choking.

There is plenty of scope for axing sports from these bloatedOlympics.

Stuff like badminton, baseball, volleyball, dressage (wherehorses walk around a paddock), and fencing (where no-one getsstabbed, unlike in modern pankration).

Who needs Olympic football and tennis when they are on all theyear round anyway?

The Olympics should be all about the track and fi eld events.Good, oldfashioned running, jumping and throwing things.

To prevent it all becoming too serious, I would introduce the egg-andspoon race. Real eggs, not potatoes where there is scope forcheating by digging the spoon in.

And the three-legged race.

And catching the javelin.

To be fair, a number of athletes have tried to add to the generalgaiety with their dropping-the-baton variations on the relay race.

With the exclusion of extraneous pursuits (such as basketballwhich I missed from my earlier hit list) and even with the inclusionof the eggand-spoon and three-legged races, the Olympics could bedone and dusted over a long weekend and we could get back to thefitba.

Meanwhile, it's going to be a long and tedious journey to 2012 asTeam BBC and other media get their teeth into the preparations forthe London games. It will be even more gruesome when the games takeplace.

There is one ray of hope. Team Scotland might do quite well.

CRUFTS has been taken to task over canine health. The BBC said itis reviewing coverage of the show in the light of its owndocumentary investigation into systematic inbreeding which leavesmany dogs with debilitating conditions.

It is a noble initiative by Team BBC but I fear they are barkingup the wrong tree. We are dealing here with dogowners. People whoare barking in their own right.

People who trail round after animals picking up shit. People wholovingly French-kiss a slabbery bloodhound.

People who actually believe their dog understands what they aresaying.

People who feed a poodle chicken breast and feed their childrenchicken nuggets. Do not expect these irrational people to understandgenetics.

I know, since I once was dog-crazy.

I put up with a Labrador who thought Clarks children's shoes (ata day's wages a pair) was a snack food.

I put up, but not for too long, with a setter who roamed thecountryside chasing aeroplanes.

Then there were my two well-bred pugs, the epitome of Kennel Clubdeportment. Patrick was forever trying to get up his mum, Sophie.

Sophie was no angel, enticing Patrick behind the sofa in thefirst place.

The BBC will not be able to change the animal instinct. We'retalking about the humans who run Crufts, not the canines.

NHS Greater Glasgow are concerned about my emotions. Which isnice of them since they have GBP42m of budget cuts to worry about atthe moment.

They have sent me a survey via my GP saying: 'Clinicians areaware that emotions play an important part in illnesses. . . Thisquestionnaire is designed to help your clinician know how you feel.'

The emotional evaluation consists of a series of statements, eachwith a choice of four options.

Such as: 'I get a sort of frightened feeling as if somethingawful is about to happen'. I lied, of course, choosing: 'A littlebut it doesn't worry me.'

Other lies and half-truthful answers included: Worrying thoughtsgo through my mind? From time to time but not too often. (Recession?Unemployment?

Fuel poverty? World War Three? A blood sugar count nearly as bigas my waist measurement? I laugh in the face of adversity. ) I feelcheerful? Most of the time. (Despite all the people who ask me:'What's up with your face?') I get sudden feelings of panic? Notvery often. (Well, quite often. OK, very often indeed. ) There weresome entirely honest and truthful replies: I have lost interest inmy appearance? I take just as much care as ever. (The phrase badly-packed parachute springs to mind. ) I can sit at ease and feelrelaxed?

Definitely. (Except I only sit when there is no opportunity tolie down. ) I can laugh and see the funny side of things?

As much as I always could. (I think it's called being clinicallymorose. ) But the main thrust of the survey is dread. Do I get asort of frightened feeling like butterflies in the stomach? Do Ifeel tense or wound up?

Actually, I was quite all right really until I got thisquestionnaire.

One last question. If I get enough answers right, do I qualifyfor Prozac?