An apology: Sorry.
Ha! That was a good apology joke. No, This was meant to be a light-hearted blog about why the modern pentathlon isn’t really modern and what pentathlon that WAS modern might involve…aren’t you just LOL-ing thinking about that blog? Well it doesn’t exist. Tough fucking shit. Oh, and I was also going to say how I liked this but that was just probably proof enough that it was a shit poem as I know fuck all about poems.
“And so the end is near…something something about a curtain”
I blame people. I should be, and in fact am, over the moon about the performance of the British team. Each and every one. Not just the gold medals. Not just the medals. Briliant. The crowds: brilliant. They definitely lifted the performance of the British participants, and those of other isles I’ll not doubt. The volunteers and paid workers: brilliant (though let’s not put them alongside those who died in The Somme just yet). The BBC coverage has been extensive and most of the presenters and interviewers have been brilliant (though I respect Clare Balding, I still think she is a bit overrated; there are far worse people to be national treasures, though).
So why is there something grating about the Olympz for your hero (I mean me not Mo Farahs Trousers)? It’s because people have to go too far. It had to be the best thing ever. There were long serving broadsheet sports journalists who described Mo’s second gold medal run as the greatest sporting performance ever. It wasn’t. The other day a member of the American 4 ×400 metre team ran half of his lap with a broken leg. You know when someone breaks their leg and they go somewhere in an ambulance and has some form of cast on their leg for a few weeks and can’t go to work? Well instead that guy just ran the second half of the race slightly slower than he would have anyway. That was more amazing if you ask me.
I’m not saying Mo shouldn’t be lauded. In fact I’ll say this: Mo Farah should be lauded, earn a lot of money and get the best care possible to maintain him as a top athlete for as long as he wants to/his body lets him. Then we should drop him like he’s a fucking red-hot piece of coal and start on his successor.
And when I said I blame people earlier I think it comes from on almost constant need from everyone to criticise football as the compliment the Olympians. I am not sure why someone, let everyone, feels the need to mention football. I’ll tell you this for nowt, these Olympic people are quite rightly going to get treated like heroes. They’ll earn some money from sponsors (good thing), get treated like celebrities (good thing for some if they want it) and you know what? It will make some of them right wankers. Some of them will start expecting to be treated like they are something special. Some of them will leave their wives/girlfriends/boyfriends/husbands/families because something better comes along (it will be better – younger, more intelligent, “understands fame” -as well, but that’s one of them things you’re not allowed to say; it’s too ‘football’ ,though Danny Boyle is allowed to do it). Because they will have to be judged outside of a very small window of exposure when they had to be completely dedicated to their sport.
You Get What You Deserve
It seems someone having something bad happen in their personal life means they deserve to win it more. I think the best person at a sport should win it. Tom Daley has had a couple of bad things happen, no doubt, and I’d wish it no-one but it hasn’t made me want to him to win any more than anyone else. I find it quite condescending to other people who try and train just as hard but aren’t encouraged by crowds half as much because they have no story.
Clare Balding said something about how brilliant the Olympics had been capturing everyone and how we were all interested in everyone’s story and how brilliant that was. I couldn’t give a fuck about people’s stories. I know I am not quite normal when it comes to stuff like that but I mainly just wonder why I am finding information out. Is this interesting? Is it funny? Generally no and no, so why are you telling me? I don’t want to be bored or sad by your or anyone’s stories. Do me a favour and fuck off with all the other people (which is everyone) who cares about these stories and all think about people’s stories and I’ll just watch sport and want the English person to win.
Hypocrite much? Yes. All the time. Fucking love hypocrisy. You mean about caring about the broken leg? That happened in sport so it’s not about the romance of someone’s life away from sport. Where does it all end? Is it ok be to the 23rd best but have the best sad story to win a medal and everyone think they deserve it? Should we find people with the worst life stories and watch them compete at sports regardless of their ability? “And now representing Britain is Shelly Kipling whose parents were killed by a Nazi, she moved in with her aunt and uncle who both died of a disease so rare it didn’t exist but was really slow and painful, she was sent to live with her only surviving relative who was a real shit to her.”
Fucking stories. Fuck this. I don’t want to know someone’s life story when they request a song on the radio, or a contestant on a quiz show or when I have to talk to them at work. Thanks for telling me about your dead baby: what THE FUCK am I supposed to say now?