London, United Kingdom - Olympic Games 2012 Part 2

While my main objective was to gain access to the Olympic Stadium, there is more to the Games than just track and field, so I took the opportunity to sample some of the many other sports on offer around the metropolis of London. First up was a trip to Horse Guards Parade on a glistening Saturday afternoon for a session of beach volleyball, one of the more glamourous events on any Olympic programme. Beach Volleyball is as much of a show as it is a sport, with an air of delightful chaos about proceedings. There’s no denying the players’ agility, coordination, speed and skill but one can’t help but feel that the majority of the capacity crowd were there to watch the Italian and Spanish female competitors show off their very revealing, albeit eye pleasing, sporting attire. Once their game concluded the Dutch and Danish men did likewise to delight the female contingent in the audience. The stadium announcer added to the organised pandemonium as he shouted out approximately every 10 minutes “Ladies and Gentlemen, it’s rakey rakey time!!”, to which a flock of eager volunteers would rush out onto the court and rake the sand into complete perfection, to the overwhelming adulation of the aforementioned announcer, only for their hard work to be undone within the first point after the resumption of the game. Finally, a beach volleyball session is consistently interrupted at random points by loud, colourful music accompanied by about two dozen scantily dressed dancers from a range of nationalities, all with one thing in common, the desire to have a damn good time. Beach volleyball was certainly an enjoyable experience and I am undoubtedly open to seeing it again in the future. At the next Olympics it will be held on the iconic Copacabana Beach in Brazil’s Rio de Janeiro. I can’t think of a better location for this uplifting and light-hearted sport.

Next up was a journey out to Earls Court for indoor volleyball. The sport itself has a lot of appealing attributes: skill, power, incredible reflexes and strong team work. However it lacks the confident showmanship of its seaside cousin. Don’t get me wrong I enjoyed the game and can appreciate brilliance in any sport, but once the novelty wears off it all becomes a bit repetitive without anything silly and chaotic to appeal to the fair-weather spectators. The first game between Great Britain and Japan was enjoyable mainly due to the loud and patriotic support from the local crowd towards the host nation (who never had a smidgen of hope of achieving anything in this sport I may add), but once the hysteria died down, the next game between Russia and Italy, while unmistakably of a higher standard, became a bit long drawn out, and by the end of it I was ready for a good pint of London Pride!

One sport that has always intrigued me in a sort of “once every 4 years” way is handball, referred to as Olympic handball in Ireland. Like the vast majority of Olympic sports this game has a popularity of approximately zero on the Emereld Isle, and is only seen on one’s television set when the greatest show on earth comes around. However on the European mainland handball is very popular, both from a participative and viewing standpoint. So I took a trip out to the Copper Box in Olympic Park to see what all the fuss among my European companions is about. What I was treated to was a compelling women’s quarter final between South Korea and Russia, where the Asian outfit edged out the intense contest by a score of 24 to 23. My enjoyment was certainly enhanced by an excellent view of the action, with a seat in the third row behind the goal giving me a close-up perspective of the sheer speed, power and skill this sport has to offer.

However, from an Irish point of view, London 2012 was always going to be about boxing, and in particular Katie Taylor. The Bray woman has dominated women’s lightweight boxing since claiming her first European Championship gold in 2005, winning a further four European titles, four World Championship gold medals and four European Union Championships since. Indeed such has been her supremacy that it is commonly accepted that the Irishwoman was the main reason women’s boxing was added to the Olympic programme for the first time in the 116 year history of the modern Games. All of this led to unavoidable hype in Ireland that Katie Taylor might bring home an elusive gold medal to the success deprived nation. Excluding Michelle Smith’s three tainted gold medals in 1996, Ireland had not won an Olympic title since Michael Carruth claimed boxing glory in 1992, so it was always inevitable that the hopes of our small nation would be pinned firmly on the shoulders of this astonishing talent.

Given the close proximity of the 2012 Olympic Games, and the foresight of most that Taylor would more than likely be donning the gloves come the business end of the Women’s Lightweight 60Kg weight category, the Irish took it upon themselves to purchase all tickets months in advance. The result of this being roughly 80-90% of the 6,000 capacity Excel Arena in London filled with natives of the Emerald Isle during each of her fights. Fortunately I was one of the lucky few inside the amphitheatre for both her semi-final against Tajikistan’s Mavzuna Chorieva, and the final against her nemesis Sofya Ochigava of Russia. The former was a great experience, don’t get me wrong, but it paled in comparison to the drama and emotion of the afternoon of August 9^th. The upbeat green sight of a few thousand Irish people all dressed in national rugby and soccer jerseys overflowing out of the few pubs beside the arena felt more like the lead-up to a big Irish rugby international game at Lansdowne Road than it did an Olympic final. It was a truly uplifting occasion.

Inside the arena the atmosphere was hopping, reaching decibel levels not matched by many other events throughout London 2012. To say the Irish took over the venue would be an enormous understatement. Throughout what was a very cagey and tense bout with the Russian champion the crowd fully extended their vocal chords with renditions of “Ole, Ole, Ole” and “The Fields of Athenry”. I have been to a lot of great sporting events throughout the world, but I have never experienced noise quite like this. However despite all the patriotic liveliness there was not a soul in the arena who wasn’t at least slightly nervous during what seemed like an eternity before the official result was announced. At the moment the announcer yelled “the winner, by a score of 10 points to 8, in the RED CORNER…” the venue erupted in a mixture of relief and jubilation. The sense of national pride one gets from seeing your fellow countryman or woman achieving sporting greatness is indescribable and to be in attendance to witness it in the flesh multiplies this sentiment tenfold. The medal ceremony in particular, the playing of the Irish national anthem Amhran na bhFiann, and sharing such a rare and historic moment with friends and fellow Irish is a moment which will stay with me forever.

Needless to say such success was very much celebrated that evening, beginning in the immediate aftermath, with the Irish fans singing from the tops of their respiratory systems “Walking in a Taylor wonderland” during the victorious march out of the arena. The Taiwan and Korean table tennis and taekwondo supporters (sports which were also taking place at the Excel Arena) hadn’t the faintest idea what was going on, and I was questioned by a confused Albanian gentleman as to what the ear splitting commotion was all about. The fun didn’t stop there. That night I was personally congratulated for Katie Taylor’s success by a random Jamaican and a drunk Dutchman. There were 302 gold medals decided during these Olympics so it is almost impossible for even the biggest anorak to keep track of them all, so the fact that our solitary gold medal had made quite a headline among other communities was quite pleasing.

In terms of medals won Ireland enjoyed its most successful  Games in history, winning one gold, one silver (John Joe Nevin in men’s bantamweight boxing) and three bronze (Paddy Barnes in light flyweight boxing, Michael Conlon in flyweight boxing and Cian O’Connor in individual showjumping equestrian). This equals our performance at the 1956 Melbourne Olympics, but given the greater worldwide scale of the Games these days, London 2012 was unquestionable Ireland’s most prosperous effort since competing independently for the first time in 1924. It wasn’t just the high medal tally which made the Games so satisfying from an Irish point of view but also the many other high finishes across a range of sports: Annalise Murphy 4^th in the Lasar Radial sailing, Rob Heffernan 4^th in the 50 kilometre race walk, the 3-day eventing team finishing 5^th, Aoife Clark 7^th in the individual 3-day eventing, and Natalya Coyle 9^th in the Modern Pentathlon, the last of which is an astonishing prospect for the Rio Olympics in 2016. Let’s hope these admirable performances by the class of 2012 can help persuade the government to financially back our minority sports to a higher degree. There’s something disturbing about one third of our sports funding going to horse racing, a rich man’s game, while so many sports in Ireland are only kept afloat because of the selfless efforts of volunteers.

While many of the venues hosting events at these Olympics were spread around the metropolitan area of London, the focal point was as always the purpose built Olympic Park. This enormous area of land consisted of the Olympic Stadium, the Aquatic Centre, the water polo arena, the cycling velodrome, the Copper Box for handball, the basketball arena, the BMX track, along with merchandise stores, bar and restaurant stalls, two big screens and the biggest McDonald’s the world has ever seen with queues a ridiculous 15 miles long! However for all its grandeur I feel the park lacked a bit of soul. It was too focused on extracting pound notes off fans for my liking and lacked the sort of interactive feel you get at many sporting events. At the Australian Open tennis for example they have competitions to see who out of the general public can achieve the fastest serve. Olympic Park lacked that sort of thing, something to keep the kids interested, something fun and silly to help fans engage a bit more with the Olympic experience.

What Olympic Park lacked, Hyde Park more than made up for. Throughout the Games London’s inner city parkland was turned into a festival of all the good things in life: sport, beer and food. Five different big screens were erected at various points throughout the area for the duration of London 2012 where fans could chill out and watch the live sporting action. The biggest screen was dedicated unsurprisingly to athletics, with tens of thousands of people in attendance the nights of both the 100m and 200m finals. However one didn’t have to travel too far to catch something else. A quick five minute walk had me at one of the smaller screens just in time for John Joe Nevin’s quarter final bout where numerous Irish people had also congregated to. Over on another giant television set there were a group of satisfied Dutch people, evidently pleased with their 10-2 mauling of Great Britain in men’s hockey. It truly was a wonderful set up, and there was no shortage of beer and plenty of places to grab some food. Once the athletics finished some music bands who I am supposed to have heard of came onto the main stage to keep the crowd buzzing. And best of all, this was entirely free to the general public. Kudos London for this little gem!

There can be no doubting that London 2012 was the best supported Olympic Games in history. Tickets were extremely hard to come by, the Olympic Stadium was packed to the rafters every morning and evening, as were the vast majority of the venues, and the free events such as the marathon, triathlon, road cycling and race walking had enormous crowds about ten deep. Indeed it was such crowds along the roads of the women’s marathon which created a rather humourous tale involving my good self. Having completely underestimated the numbers which would be in attendance for the men’s 20 kilometre walk the previous day and struggling to see any of the action for almost half of the race as a result, myself and a friend decided we could not let this happen again for the women’s marathon. So after multiple pints of delicious ale a plan was formulated to bring along some sort of contraption which would magically turn us into eight foot superstars. This apparatus we unanimously agreed would be a recycle box. So bright and early the following morning, hangover in head, breakfast roll in hand, we set out on a ridiculous journey on the London Underground system with a big green box accompanying us. Dragging this object around London was at times embarrassing, at times hilarious, but it appeared that our efforts had been rewarded. We found a nice spot which provided a good view of the race, placed the box on the ground, and both of us proceeded to stand tall and arrogant above the tens of people in front of us, smug in our intelligent creativity. The view couldn’t have been better. That is until a cracking sound appeared beneath my feet and the two of us not long later were on the ground, sporting bruises and a loss of dignity. The crowd around us seemed to enjoy our misfortune, and why not, it was pretty funny. I would have laughed had it been anybody else!

These Olympic Games have filled many with wonderful memories and it wouldn’t have been possible without the exceptional organisation around London which ensured everything ran smoothly. First there were the volunteers, whose tireless efforts and constant cheer made even the longest of queues that bit more bearable. Then there was the security which far surpasses anything that has ever been seen at a sporting event before. Entering the Excel Centre to watch Katie Taylor required the same level of scrutiny as crossing security control in JFK Airport, and despite the inconvenience it provides at the time, it’s the way it should be. The knowledge that there isn’t some nutjob inside the venue ready to make a name for himself at the biggest event in the world is comforting. And finally the transport system. While the Tube may be a mix between a sauna and restaurant overly exposed to garlic, there can be no complaints in the efficiency in which it was able to support so many people travelling around the city. There were worries that London’s transport system wouldn’t be able to deal with the sheer numbers of people, but these fears were unfounded.

For 16 days, London ran faster, jumped higher and threw further than the rest of the world. Over to you Rio!

 At Horse Guards Parade for Beach Volleyball

The infamous recycling box which briefly provided a bird's eye view of the women's marathon

At Earl's Court for Indoor Volleyball

Usain Bolt in the 100m semi-final on the main screen at Hyde Park

Celebrating in appropriate style with some Jamaicans after Usain Bolt defended his 100m title

At the Copper Box at Olympic Park for Handball

With legendary Irish distance runner, and Olympic silver medalist from Sydney 2000, Sonia O'Sullivan

With the gang before Katie Taylor's Olympic final at the Excel Arena

Katie Taylor in battle with Russia's Sofya Ochigava in the Women's 60kg final

Katie Taylor awaits the presentation of her gold medal

Celebrating Ireland's first Olympic gold medal in years

Chilling in Hyde Park for the men's 800m and 200m finals

Thursday 9th August was a successful day for both Ireland and Jamaica

London, United Kingdom - Olympic Games 2012 Part 1 (Athletics)

Irony is an Irishman travelling half way around the world to attend the closest thing to a "home Olympics" his country will ever see. For years I have waited with baited breath for the greatest sporting event on Earth to reach the other side of the Irish Sea, yet when this moment arrived it was not a simple Ryanair flight which was merely required, but rather a 17000 kilometre, 30 hour journey from hell. But living in one of the most remote countries on the planet was not going to interfere with my arrangements to spectate at the Games of the 30^th Olympiad. Inspired by the ancient Games held for over 1000 years in Olympia, Greece before being ceased in the year 393 AD, this festival of sporting excellence was revived in 1896 and has been held every 4 years since, with the exception of during both the first and second World War. 2012 marked the third occasion the United Kingdom’s capital would host the event and anticipation had never been higher with demand for tickets reaching almost farcical levels.

While I certainly intended to sample a few of the 26 sports on show at the Games, the number one priority was to gain access to the Olympic Stadium itself, where the traditional Olympic flame would burn brightly, and where track and field, the blue-riband showpiece of London 2012, would take place in front of 80,000 gazing pairs of eyes. Entry to the stadium proved much more emotionally tiresome than first anticipated and after approximately a dozen attempts over the course of 14 months to secure tickets, I eventually managed to get my hands on a few of these much sought out paper slips, specifically for both the morning and evening sessions of Wednesday 8^th August and again for Friday evening, the 10^th August. All the rest of the action was viewed from a combination of public houses and big screens, with many a pint of the smooth tasting London Pride to accompany me.   

Where easier to begin a review of London 2012 than by talking about Usain Bolt. The flamboyant Jamaican has been track and field’s showpiece act over the last four years and by far the biggest draw for casual fans of the sport. An astonishing talent as a youth and junior, “Lightning Bolt”, as he has been nicknamed, announced himself to the mainstream sporting audience and media at the Beijing Olympic Games in 2008 where he won the 100m and 200m, both in world record times of 9.69 and 19.30. A year later at the World Championships in Berlin he bettered both marks, clocking 9.58 and 19.19 respectively. However, notwithstanding a world title over 200m in 2011, many believed that the showman from Jamaica was starting to appear fallible, illustrated in particular by defeat to his countryman Yohan Blake over both distances at this year’s Jamaican trials. However in London Bolt found an extra gear, defending his 100m title in 9.63, the second fastest clocking of all time, ahead of Blake, who claimed the silver medal in 9.75, equaling his personal best in the process, while disgraced former Olympic Champion, American Justin Gatlin edged out compatriot Tyson Gay to take bronze in 9.79. Seven of the eight finalists ran sub 10 seconds in what was unquestionably the quickest race in history.

A few days later, Bolt returned to successfully defend his 200m crown, clocking 19.32, again pushing Blake down into silver medal position in 19.44, a victory which was more convincing than the 0.12 margin suggests. Warren Weir completed a Jamaican clean sweep taking the bronze in 19.84. In claiming double gold, Bolt became the first athlete in history to win both the 100m and 200m in consecutive Olympics. It remains to be seen whether he will defend his titles at the next Games in Rio de Janeiro or instead take on new challenges in the sport. Whatever he decides the cameras will not be far away and the charismatic sprinter will be lapping it all up. We wouldn’t want it any other way!

Usain Bolt may have received the vast majority of media’s plaudits throughout London 2012, but arguably the performance of the Games came from David Rudisha. The Kenyan 800m runner has been virtually unbeatable over the last two years, breaking the long standing 2-lap record held by Denmark’s Wilson Kipketer, not once, but twice in 2010 and claiming World Championship gold in Daegu last year. The 23 year old entered London as possibly the most overwhelming favourite in all of track and field, and he did not disappoint, leading from the gun to claim gold in a staggering world record time of 1:40.91, becoming the first man in history to dip below 1:41. What made this performance all the more remarkable is that it was achieved without the aid of a pacemaker. In this day and age, in events from 800m and up, a world record being set during a major championship is completely unheard of. It does not bear thinking what this man may run over the coming year in a properly paced Diamond League race, with many believing that he is destined to break the 1:40 barrier. It is also worth noting that all 8 men in the Olympic final ran sub 1:44, with the eight placed runner, Great Britain’s Andrew Osagie, clocking a time which would have won gold at the previous three Olympics. However, the record breaking performances of the other seven men will be merely a footnote to David Rudisha in Olympic history.

Rudisha wasn’t the only record breaker at London 2012 however. Three other world records were set during the athletics programme. The US women’s 4x100m relay team of Tianna Madison, Allyson Felix, Bianca Knight and Carmelita Jeter annihilated the old record by over half a second, with a remarkable clocking of 40.82. This performance was all the more incredible given the fact that the old record, a tainted mark held by East Germany, had lasted a dominant 27 years. The men’s 4x100m world record was also broken, with the Jamaican quartet of Nesta Carter, Michael Frater, Yohan Blake and Usain Bolt recording a sensational 36.84, the first sub 37 second clocking in history, while Russian Elena Lashmanova set a new standard of 1:25:02 in the women’s 20k Walk overhauling serial championship gold medalist and fellow countrywoman Olga Kaniskina in the dying stages of the race.

Some personal highlights of mine centered around the women’s 100m Hurdles and women’s 200m, with two of the sport’s greatest ambassadors, Sally Pearson and Allyson Felix, finally claiming the Olympic gold that their dominance over recent years deserved. Pearson, who ran the fourth fastest time in history (12.28) last year when claiming World Championship gold has been almost unbeatable over the last two years and entered London as the clear favourite to claim the one title that eluded her. However, the Australian had to battle all the way to the line, edging defending champion Dawn Harper of the USA by just 0.02 seconds with an Olympic record time of 12.35 in unfavourable conditions. With the pressure of the Olympics now off her shoulders, few would bet against the Queenslander breaking the long standing world record next year.

Allyson Felix, on the other hand, was much more comfortable in claiming gold in the women’s 200m, an event I had the privilege of viewing from inside the Olympic Stadium. The three time world champion over 200m clocked 21.88 to easily beat the 100m champion, Shelly-Ann Fraser-Pryce, into second place (22.09), with Carmelita Jeter taking the bronze (22.14). The 26 year old American was one of the biggest winners of the Games claiming 3 gold in total (200m, 4x100m, 4x400m) and finishing 5^th in the 100m final for good measure.

The host nation Great Britain had a successful Olympics, winning six athletics medals in total, including four gold. However, it was the evening of Saturday 4^th August which provided perhaps the greatest night in British sporting history. In the space of 90 minutes, the host nation won not one, not two, but three gold medals in front of an elated and patriotic home crowd inside the Olympic Stadium. Jessica Ennis began the festivities with a dominant victory in the heptathlon. The glamourous Sheffield athlete set a new British record of 6955 points, a performance which lifts her to number 5 on the world all-time list. Next up was Greg Rutherford, who took the spoils in the men’s long jump with a leap of 8.31m, defeating silver medalist Australian Mitchell Watt by 15cm in what was a disappointing competition, with too many sub-standard performances. Mo Farah completed a famous hat-trick with gold in the men’s 10000m, demolishing the best East Africa could throw at him with a devastating 53 second last lap, with his training partner, Galen Rupp of the USA, claiming an excellent second place. Farah went on to complete a historic double one week later, taking 5000m gold and becoming only the 7^th person in history to win Olympic gold in both events at the same Games, joining Hannes Kolehmainen, Emil Zatopek, Lasse Viren (twice), Vladimir Kuts, Mirutz Yifter and Kenenisa Bekele among the pantheon of Olympic legends.

Other memorable moments included the men’s 400m, where Kirani James became the first non-American to break the 44 second barrier en route to winning Grenada’s first ever Olympic gold medal; the women’s 400m, where Sanya Richards-Ross of the USA edged out defending champion and home favourite Christine Ohuruogu; the men’s 400m Hurdles, where 34 year old Felix Sanchez from the Dominican Republic rolled back the clock, reclaiming the title he won 8 years ago in Athens; the women’s 100m which saw the top five athletes break 10.90 seconds, with Jamaican Shelly-Ann Fraser-Pryce defending her Olympic title with a sensational 10.75; the men’s high jump, where the eccentric Russian leapt 2.38m to easily win his first major outdoor title; and the men’s 3000m Steeplechase, which saw Kenyan Ezekiel Kemboi unconventionally cross the finish line in lane 8 to win his second Olympic gold medal.

While London 2012 was filled with many unforgettable moments, there were nonetheless a few uglier instances which leave a bitter taste in the mouth. Many long term followers of the sport could say with a reasonable degree of confidence that these Games have been the cleanest in a long time, as anti-doping procedures are getting more stringent by the year. However, as always, there will be those who slip through the net, those who succumb to the temptation to take a short cut. A particular sad sight was seeing Turkey claim both gold and silver in the women’s 1500m, with Asli Cakir Alptekin taking victory, while her compatriot Gamze Bulut followed closely in second place. Cakir is a convicted drug cheat, banned from competition for two years in 2004 and this year she has run a staggering 3:56, making an eye-opening 6 second improvement on her pre-2012 PB. Bulut, although very young at just 20 years of age, has made an astonishing 17 second gain in the last 12 months. What makes the performances all the more suspect is the sad fact that, as a nation, Turkey has an appalling history with regards doping, to the degree that it is very difficult for them to be taken seriously anymore. I’d like to think that these two ladies have now fulfilled WADA’s criteria for future target testing!

From an Irish perspective the unquestionable highlight of London 2012 was Rob Heffernan’s performance in the men’s 50k Walk. The Togher athlete has been a very reliable championship performer over the years, finishing 6^th at the 2007 World Championships over 20k, 8^th at the Beijing Olympics at the same distance, and 4^th in both race walking events at the 2010 European Championships. After finishing 9^th in the 20k at these Games, in what was effectively used as preparation for the 50k, Heffernan turned his attention to his main event, which took place 7 days later in front of huge galleries of supporters along the Mall and Buckingham Palace. Cheered on by remarkable Irish support and numerous renditions of the Fields of Athenry, the Corkman paced himself perfectly, electing not to go with the early leaders, and over the closing stages picked off tiring athletes in front of him one by one. Heffernan eventually finished in 4^th place in a sensational time of 3:37:54, knocking 7:36 off his old Irish record, and was just 38 seconds behind bronze medalist Si Tianfeng of China. This clocking puts him up to 15^th on the world all-time list, and would have been good enough for silver in Beijing and gold at every other previous Olympic Games. While he is no doubt disappointed not to come away with a medal, one gets the feeling that his time will come in Moscow next year at the World Championships.

There were a few other encouraging Irish performances in London, namely from Laura Reynolds in the 20k Walk. The 23 year old recorded a personal best of 1:31:02 to finish in a highly respectable 20^th place in her first major global championship. Given the nature of the event, and the fact that race walkers often don’t reach their peak until their mid 30s, there is no doubt that Reynolds has a bright future in the sport ahead of her. Other athletes who recorded personal bests during the Games were Brendan Boyce in the men’s 50k Walk and Fionnuala Britton in the women’s 5000m. The Irish women’s 4x400m team are also worthy of mention as they finished in a credible 13^th place. While they were 3 seconds off the national record they set at the World Championships last year, this is nonetheless an impressive achievement given Ireland’s population in comparison to the other competing nations.

However, while there is no questioning the passionate efforts of each and every member, there can be no getting away from the fact that the performance of the Irish athletics team as a whole was disappointing. This is not because of the fact that we won no medals, as athletics is the most global and fiercely competitive sport in the Olympic Games, where gold, silver and bronze is very much at a premium for many small countries, but rather because many of the athletes themselves fell depressingly short of their own standards. Paul Hession failed to qualify from his heat of the 200m; Ciaran O’Lionaird trailed home second from the rear in the 1500m, evidently far from fully fit, in a time he could have run as a junior; Alistair Cragg never looked like making an impact finishing a dreadful 17^th in his heat of the 5000m; Joanne Cuddihy did reach the semi-finals of the 400m and finished 16^th overall, but her 51.88 was four almost half a second down on her season’s best recorded in Japan back in April; an injured Catriona Jennings trailed home last in the women’s marathon, in a time slower than many average female club runners; Deirdre Ryan could only manage 1.85m in the high jump, well off the magnificent 1.95m she leaped last year en route to 6^th at the World Championships; while pole vaulter Tori Pena, who has an impressive PB of 4.52m, dismally failed all 3 attempts at the opening height of 4.10m. Even Ireland’s reliable championship performer Derval O’Rourke was well off her best in the 100m Hurdles. While she did reach the semi-finals, and twice ran a season’s best of 12.91, this was well below her personal best of 12.65 and the high standards she has set over the past few years.

What makes this all the more frustrating is the fact that three seriously talented young athletes on B-Standards, who were in form, and have recent championship pedigree, were not selected to compete in London. Mark English, aged just 19, finished 5^th in the 800m at this year’s World Junior Championships, with the gold and silver medalists ahead of him making the podium in London, Brian Gregan, aged 22, has lowered his PB significantly this year and almost medaled in the 400m at the European Championships in Helsinki in June, while Jessie Barr, aged 23, has done likewise, finishing in 8^th place over 400m Hurdles at the Europeans. The OCI’s lack of foresight, logic and ability to see anything other than black and white meant that only athletes with A-Standards were selected to compete, resulting in English and Gregan being left at home, while Barr was ludicrously left up in the stands of the Olympic Stadium, as she was in London for the 4x400m relay anyway, thus robbing these great prospects of valuable Olympic experience ahead of the next Games in Rio de Janeiro. I’ve no doubt that all three of the mentioned athletes above would have made the semi-finals of their respective events in London, and had common sense prevailed, we’d be looking at Irish athletics right now from a completely different viewpoint, full of positivity for what lies ahead over the coming years.

While the athletes themselves must take responsibility for their own performances, much of the blame has to lie with those responsible for selecting what had been hailed as the best prepared Irish team in history, those who overlooked the likes of English, Gregan and Barr, while selecting athletes who had achieved A-Standards back in 2011 but hadn’t performed close to the required level in 2012. Furthermore the black and white nature of the A-Standard requirement resulted in athletes traipsing around Europe right up to selection deadline day in a desperate hope of securing a qualification time. With a system like this in place, even if an athlete did manage to secure a ticket to the Games, it is highly unlikely that he/she would be able to peak again in London just a month later. Hopefully the OCI and AAI will learn the harsh lessons from London 2012 and will bring in an effective selection process for Rio 2016, which ensures the best athletes are chosen to represent Ireland. There’s an unprecedented level of talent coming through in Irish athletics. Let’s hope this talent is nurtured by the AAI, and that the same issues will not be discussed again four years from now.

The attendances at the athletics events at London 2012 were nothing short of outstanding. What was particularly heartwarming was the huge numbers of supporters lining the streets of London for the marathon and race-walking events. I have never seen such attendance levels for a race walking event before. It is hard to make an accurate estimate of how many people were along the Mall and Buckingham Palace for the men’s 50k, but an approximation of over 100,000 would not be very farfetched at all, and the atmosphere was among the most memorable of all sporting events I have attended over the years.

For every single track and field session, whether morning or evening, the stadium was packed to the rafters. I was in complete shock to see such high attendances for the morning sessions, where usually athletes are competing in front of an almost empty stadium. I thought Daegu was impressive last year with the crowds that attended the heats in the morning, but London has taken this to a whole new level. It must have been an incredible kick for lesser ranked athletes, those who got eliminated in the heats, to compete in front of 80,000 people, something which most certainly did not happen during the Sydney, Athens or Beijing Olympics. The support was excellent from the British public, particularly for those athletes who wore the GB vest. While many of the spectators inside the stadium were not particularly knowledgeable about the sport, this was not an issue, and no doubt some of the people in attendance will be inspired to get involved in the sport in the future. One minor complaint I would have however is that no effort was made to ensure that people involved in the sport on a regular basis gained access to the stadium. A fair solution would have been to guarantee 10% of all tickets to UK athletics clubs, instead of putting the tickets on public sale as a complete chaotic free-for-all.

However, to find complaints you’d need to really go searching for problems. The truth is that London 2012 provided a truly unforgettable 9 days of athletics competition, which will no doubt leave a lasting legacy in the UK, and British athletics will reap the rewards of this in years to come. There has never been a better supported Olympic Games, and we may never see the likes of it again. London, take a bow.

Inside the Olympic Stadium in Stratford 

 The Olympic flame

The Olympic Stadium lit up at night

Rob Heffernan of Ireland en route to a magnificent 4th place in the men's 50k Walk

A large mix of nationalities outside Buckingham Palace for the men's 50k Walk

The crowds came out in their tens of thousands to support the athletes in the men's 50k Walk

Mariya Savinova, eventual winner of the women's 800m, in action in her first round heat

The US 4x100m relay quartet celebrate a new world record

Ireland's Joanne Cuddihy runs a storming leg in the women's 4x400m relay heats

The US 4x100m team receive their gold medals

Meseret Defar of Ethiopia strikes for home in the women's 5000m final

Allyson Felix storms to victory in the women's 200m

The iconic Olympic flame which burned brightly inside the stadium for 17 days

Hobart, Australia

After 9 months without leaving the State of Victoria, in late May, I finally rewarded my itchy feet with a weekend of sightseeing in the city of Hobart, the capital of the island state of Tasmania, an hour’s flight south of Melbourne. Originally discovered by Dutchman Abel Tasman and formerly known as Van Deimen’s Land, Tasmania was claimed by the British and first settled in 1803 in Hobart and became a penal colony of the United Kingdom for the majority of the 19^th century, as thousands of convicts were shipped half way around the world in an ill thought out method of solving the problem of overcrowded prisons in the UK. Tasmania is roughly the size of Ireland, but with a population of just a little over half a million, and makes up only 1% of the total land area of Australia. Almost half the state’s residents live in Hobart, leaving a lot of the island, particularly the West side, uninhabited.

Thanks to its convict history Hobart is the second oldest city in all of Australia after Sydney, but unlike its older brother, it hasn’t had its heritage seriously damaged by 20^th century mass construction and development. The city is not littered with soulless skyscrapers and thanks to this Hobart still very much retains its history in a very visible manner and there still remains numerous old buildings in their original form that date back to the early 19^th century. This is perhaps most noticeable at Salamanca Place, a street consisting of numerous sandstone buildings which were formerly warehouses in the city’s early years, but in recent times have been converted into pubs, restaurants, galleries and craft shops. To put it simply, there is more historical architecture crammed into this one small street than there is in the entire unremarkable city of Perth.  Australia offers a lot of things, but history is certainly not one of those them, so Hobart provides a refreshing change, which was very much enjoyed by this picturesque architecture loving individual. This charming street also plays host to the famous Salamanca Market which takes place every Saturday throughout the year, rain, hail or shine, where the residents of Hobart congregate to buy and sell all sorts of useless junk. I’m usually not absorbed by street markets, but I was drawn to this particular version by the stunning backdrop of early 19^th century buildings, as opposed to the array of vases and mirrors available for purchase. All in all there was a very cheery atmosphere on market day, with plenty of live music to lift people’s spirits.

Salamanca Place is not the only part of Hobart that is steeped in history however. Hunter Street, situated right on Hobart’s waterfront, Sullivan’s Cove, is much like Salamanca Place, with ancient Georgian sandstone warehouses still existing in close to their original form. Another area of Hobart rich in heritage is the suburb of Battery Point, in particular its main street, Hampden Road. Despite being just a 5 minute walk from the city’s Central Business District, you can’t help but feel that you are walking through an old English country town. The buildings are old, simple, but delightful and the area retains much of the character of 100 years ago, with lots of historic houses, restaurants and small businesses in view. The super-corporations of McDonalds and ANZ feel a million miles away when strolling through this hilly quaint street and I for one couldn’t have been more content, as I ran down my camera battery in no time. With Hobart in general, and Battery Point in particular, the main appeal is simple – aimless wandering through a beautiful throwback to simpler times. A delightful experience.

While Battery Point was certainly impressive, the little colonial Georgian village of Richmond, located 25 kilometres outside Hobart, was in a different league entirely. Founded in the 1820’s, this tiny town is literally one cute 19^th century cottage after another, containing numerous historical landmarks such as the nation’s oldest catholic church, the Richmond Bridge, the oldest bridge in Australia that is still in use, along with the Richmond Gaol, the oldest still intact prison in the country, where hundreds of convicts were crammed into a small enclosed space and forced to live in sinfully appalling conditions. During my few hours strolling through these country streets I genuinely didn’t feel like I was in Australia as Richmond feels very much like a cosy village in the English countryside. Even the dour overcast skies and the light but persistent rainfall gave the impression that I was a little closer to home. Throughout my travels through South America I fell in love with some of the beautiful old colonial towns which I encountered, namely Paraty in Brazil, Colonia in Uruguay, Valparaiso in Chile, and Cusco in Peru. I’m glad to say that, in Richmond, Australia has something to somewhat rival these places, and while not nearly as old, it certainly holds its own with these places in terms of beauty, but in its own unique way. Richmond is certainly a true hidden gem of Australia.

Not only is Hobart culturally and historically beautiful but its natural surroundings are equally as impressive, with numerous mountains and bays providing a stunning backdrop to this charming city. The most striking of Hobart’s natural landmarks is the commanding Mount Wellington, which stands authoritatively over the historic city, peaking at 1271 metres above sea level, comfortably higher than any mountain in Ireland. A 30 minute drive from the city centre is all that is required to reach the summit, yet the climate and landscape couldn’t be more dissimilar. From about three quarters up the mountain the scenery changes dramatically from one that is overwhelmingly forest based to a landscape consisting of rough sub-Alpine vegetation. It certainly didn’t look anything like Australia. From approximately 1000 metres above sea level we stopped to take in some fabulous views of Hobart sitting cautiously by the glistening bays and inlets, encircled by several protective mountains.

If the scenery was this good merely from here then surely I’d be in for an absolute photography feast from the top you would think. Wrong! As soon as we approached the summit we were greeted by a swarm of furious clouds, seemingly smug in the knowledge that they had ruined the afternoon of numerous tourists. We literally couldn’t see a thing from more than 30 metres away, with the exception of an unremarkable white mist. To add insult to injury, the weather was bitterly cold, approaching freezing point, but with gale force winds to add a severely unwanted wind chill factor to proceedings. Generally speaking, Australians do not understand the meaning of the world “cold”. It could be a nice winter’s day in Melbourne with the temperatures in the range of 15 degrees Celsius, yet you will never go more than 5 minutes without hearing some soft soul rugged up in winter woollies complaining about how penetratingly cold such harmless conditions are. However Mount Wellington is an exception to this rule, and anybody who ventures to the top has every right to a good moan. It is drastically uncomfortable and after fifteen minutes braving the elements in the hope that the clouds would find some other mountain to bully we gave in and rushed back to the comfort of our heated minibus, resigned to the fact that those picture perfect postcard views would not be making their way onto my camera any time soon.  

I completed a thoroughly enjoyable three days with a theatrical show called Louisa’s Walk. This unique piece of theatre is ranked as Hobart’s number one tourist attraction according to TripAdvisor. Two English actors, Judith and Chris Cornish take you on a journey into the life of Louisa Regan, a mother of three who was convicted for the petty crime of stealing one loaf of bread to feed her family, and sent to Van Deimen’s Land for a seven year sentence, forced to leave her children behind. The actors are in full 1800’s costume and you walk with them for approximately two hours, beginning at the Cascade Brewery (which resembles a haunted house), taking you on a journey to the Cascades Female Factory, where Louisa spent much of her imprisoned time. The show was excellently presented and gave a great insight into the horrid conditions and treatment the female convicts had to endure during the 19^th century in Hobart. It is simply disgraceful that such insignificant crimes were punished in such a heartless manner. The show was very simple, with no props, lighting or any other mod-cons you’d find at a more conventional piece of theatre, with each audience member encouraged to delve deep into one’s imagination. My one complaint is that at times the show got a little tacky, and the actors tried to be funny a bit too often, when the reality of the situation was anything but a laughing matter. But overall Louisa’s Walk was an excellent and informative way to spend my final afternoon in Hobart.

So overall Hobart has left me with an extremely high opinion of the state of Tasmania and has given me a taste for more. Hopefully I will get to see more of Van Deimen’s Land in the near future with the Tasmanian Wilderness on the west side of the island being at the top of my list. But for now I have a four week visit home to look forward to, incorporating 8 days in London for the Olympic Games. It has been 22 months since I left Ireland and I am greatly looking forward to reuniting with family and friends over a few proper pints of Guinness.

   

Wilsons Promontory & Point Nepean National Parks, Australia

Quite some time has passed since I last updated this blog so I thought I’d provide an update on the past few months. When I last posted here I had just completed my 88 days of torturous farm labour, a hellish yet necessary evil required in exchange for a second year Australian working holiday visa. Moving back to Melbourne in late November I checked into a hostel for what was supposed to be just one week, but ended up pushing the better part of two months! After three months of severe isolation in communities which you wouldn’t force a criminal to have to reside in, I was just so overjoyed and relieved to be back in the company of other members of the human species. It is something which is so easily taken for granted, until you are dwelling in a location where mowing the lawn is amongst the most interesting, enjoyable and mentally stimulating of all available activities!

A lot of fun was had, I met some very nice people and made new friends, but it wasn’t long before I grew sick of the hostel culture. It is one thing staying in them when travelling, but when working from nine to five, it becomes a dreadful inconvenience living in a squashed five person dorm. One of the people staying in my dorm has resided at that particular hostel for close to seven years now. There’s something very strange and creepy about that, but whatever floats your boat I guess. Once the Christmas period was over, I made it my business to make my escape and find a real place to live, which I managed within a couple of weeks.

The last few months have been very normal and regular, so I won’t bore you with the details about my job, house hunt, or nights on the beer. I have re-settled back into Melbourne quite well at this stage. While I haven’t done very much exploring since finishing my farm work, I have made a few brief trips out of the city which are worthy of mention.

The first of these was a one day group tour back in December to Wilsons Promontory National Park, the most southerly part of mainland Australia. With just one day to explore “The Prom”, as locals like to call it, we were always only going to be scratching the surface of an area renowned for its great bushwalking, hiking and camping. However my time there did give me a taste for the beauty of the area, a place with striking rainforests, unspoilt picturesque beaches and abundant wildlife. Unfortunately I only got to meet Wilsons Prom when she was mildly hungover. While the weather could certainly have been a lot worse, it was overcast throughout the day, and so I didn’t get to see this impressive coastline in its full energetic glory.

The trip however did produce an absolutely bizarre and unexpected tale.  After exploring Norman Beach, our tour guide gave us the option to hike to nearby Squeaky Beach, or to take the bus. The vast majority of people opted to walk, to fully make the most of the day. However, typically there were a few astonishingly lazy sods who opted for the 5 minute drive ahead of the exploration of a beautiful part of Victoria. Uncharacteristically for a tour guide in a reasonably remote area, she drove this small minority to Squeaky Beach and merely let the rest of us fend for ourselves on a self-guided walk to our destination, where she would greet us upon arrival. She provided us all with simple directions, and she fully expected us to arrive without any issues.

During the trip I became friends with two nice Italian sisters, one with a perfect fluent command of the English language, the other with barely a lick of said native tongue. During our hike we spent a lot of time talking and having the craic, and before we knew it, we had lost the rest of the group. No panic though, we still had our tour guides trusty directions vaguely residing in our memories. However it wasn’t long before our “direct” pathway suddenly split into three different routes. She never mentioned any of this! At this stage we were completely confused. We stopped and asked a couple of passers-by for directions, to which we were provided with the heartbreaking response that we had to go back the way we came. So a quick U-turn, and back we went in the hope that we would find a sign directing us to Squeaky Beach. However, we eventually, much to our dismay, found that these people didn’t know what they were talking about at all and we were right back where we started from two hours previously. At this stage, enough was enough, and I refused to walk another step. The three of us stood out on the isolated main road, and proceed to try hitchhike our way to the beach. Very few cars passed however, and none of them stopped. It wasn’t looking promising. We were on the verge of becoming probably the first people in history to get lost on a one day bus tour. Thankfully we spotted a few people about to pull out of a nearby car park, and we begged them to drive us to the rest of our fellow travellers. Upon arrival at Squeaky Beach we were greeted by a mildly stressed looking tour guide who revealed that she didn’t want to have to fill out any paperwork. She hates paperwork she tells us! To be honest, the whole experience was a bit of a laugh, and added some adventure to the trip.

The second journey out of Melbourne was barely much of a trip at all to be honest. In January, I competed in the 400 metres at the Victorian Country Athletics Championships in the old gold mining town of Bendigo, two hours north of Melbourne. I had a few hours to kill after my race before boarding my return train back to Melbourne, and so dragged my lactic acid filled legs around the centre of the city. By Australian standards Bendigo has some pretty decent, historical architecture, but being honest, the house where my dad grew up down in a remote part of South Kerry is older and has more character than the majority of these “historical” buildings. It certainly is one area where Australia is badly lacking. The country is still just a teenager and lacks the signs of age and wisdom that is prevalent around Europe, Asia and South America. Having said that, Bendigo is quite a pretty town and is worth a solid 30 or 40 minutes.

Yesterday, the girlfriend and I went on a day trip to Point Nepean National Park, located on the very tip of the Mornington Peninsula. I had long heard that this region of Victoria was nice, but being honest, I had the idea in my head that it was just an area densely populated by massive villas and holiday homes. So my expectations were very much exceeded when I saw this picturesque national park. This narrow pointy piece of land separates the ocean from Port Phillip Bay and provides a wealth of bush walking along with scenic views of the majestic coastline, the bright blue water, and powerful white waves. Its splendid scenery rivals the very best that the Great Ocean Road has to offer, with only a fraction of the amount of tourists that sites such as the Twelve Apostles attract. It is certainly one of Victoria’s hidden gems and I couldn’t have been more impressed with this semi-isolated wonderland.

Aside from its marvellous, rugged coastline, Point Nepean is known for a couple of other things. Firstly, for many years throughout the 19^th and 20^th centuries, this area of land was completely closed to the public, and was under the control of the military, ready for gun fire, fully prepared to blow this stunning area to smithereens should somebody even dare to attack. Thankfully, Australia’s paranoia was unfounded and none of the high tech equipment was ever utilised, and the land escaped unscathed. There are however numerous unexploded bombs still in existence throughout the national park.

Point Nepean is also known for being the place where Prime Minister Harold Holt vanished while still in office. It is quite funny that a country can simply lose a Prime Minister, but that is exactly what happened in Australia on the 17^th December 1967. It is worth noting that the beaches at Point Nepean are extremely dangerous, contain treacherous rips, and under no circumstances should anybody enter the water for a bit of breast stroke or butterfly! The political leader of Australia however, unfathomed by all the warning signs, and clearly forgetting to take his common sense medication, paddled in for a quick dip at Cheviot Beach. He walked out about a couple of hundred feet, and then disappeared in an instant, never to be seen again, and with no trace of his body ever found. It is hard to believe that somebody holding such a high position could be so atrociously stupid to risk his life for the sake of a bit of a swim and surf. It is because of this that numerous conspiracy theories have developed, from the very possible claims that he committed suicide, to the ludicrous and comical suggestions that he was kidnapped by a Chinese submarine, or abducted by a UFO. In any case his death will forever remain a mystery. The interesting thing about all of this is that it really is not seen as a big deal. The incident is pretty much forgotten now, most young Australians have no knowledge about this event at all, and overlooking Cheviot Beach there exists just a tiny memorial plaque in his honour. In Melbourne however, there is one thing which bears the name of Harold Holt… a swimming pool. God bless Australians and their unique sense of humour!

The Athletics Victoria track and field season has been a big part of my life down here over the last six months or so. During this time I have begun to take my training a lot more seriously and have brought my 400 metres time down from 64.04 seconds to 58.68. However, I won’t bore you with stats and figures that don’t really have much meaning to those who don’t follow the sport. What I will mention briefly however is one event which stands head and shoulders above the rest – the Victorian State Decathlon Championships. I competed in this competition back in February and it was honestly among the most enjoyable weekends I have had since arriving in Australia. For those who are not aware, the decathlon is a 10 event track and field competition, spread over two days, comprising the following: 100m, Long Jump, Shot Putt, High Jump, 400m, 110m Hurdles, Discus Throw, Pole Vault, Javelin Throw, and 1500m. Points are scored based on how well you perform in each event, and the person with the greatest total at the end of this gruelling competition is determined the winner. It was no secret that I was a complete novice in the majority of these events, but never once did I feel out of place among the faster, stronger and fitter athletes on show. While everybody was competing against each other, for these couple of days brief friendships developed, with each person encouraging the rest of their compatriots on. Some of my competitors even kindly gave me a crash coaching session to try to improve my technique over the jumping and throwing events that I am not accustomed to. The memory of the camaraderie among the 20 decathletes competing is something which will remain with me for a long time.

My big trip of 2012 will be in July and August when I visit home for four weeks, incorporating eight days in London for the Olympic Games. In a few weeks’ time I head to Hobart, the capital of Tasmania, for a three day weekend. I’ll make sure to update then.