Olympic fever

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Olympic fever is in full swing.

Every time I log onto facebook and twitter there are posts celebrating Team GB.

I always have, and always will find the Olympics compulsive viewing and not just because this time it is in London.

My very first memory of my obsession with the Olympics was the 1984 games in Los Angeles. I can remember the controversy as many countries decided to boycott the games. As a ten year old, my biggest memory was watching the coverage, then putting on my black and white portable TV in my room under the covers to watch the hit show “V”.  If my memory serves me correctly, that TV show won in the ratings against the Olympics. It was shown over five nights, and I am not sure how I managed to get up the next morning and get to school, but I did. Everybody was talking about Elizabeth being pregnant with one of the “visitors” child – what would it look like? Could this actually happen that we could be invaded by aliens coated in human skin with an echo voice.

And back to the Olympics of 1984. Who can forget the rivalry between Daley Thompson and Jurgen Hinsmen. I used to yell at the television screen everytime that Jurgen was on screen. I didn’t want my precious Daley and his 80s tasche to be beaten.  I believed that there was the same rivalry between Zola Budd and Mary Decker – there probably wasn’t and it was just my older sister and mine’s imagination, but we didn’t half cheer when Mary Decker collided with Budd during the final of their race.

Unfortunately my own children have not embraced the excitement at watching these human machines perform in their chosen sport. Although the teenager does show a slight interest when Jessica Ennis is on screen.

Since then I have watched every four years while dreams are made and dreams are shattered.

To watch these amazing sports men and women realise their dreams and see their hard work through to fruition is a truly fantastic spectator sport.

And, I always have a tear in my ear when the camera zooms to the parents of the winning Olympians.

Chad le Clos’s victory over Michael Phelps on Tuesday night sent me into an emotional wreck. Not as though the sight of his quivering lip on the podium wouldn’t set me off crying already – oh no! as soon as the camera cut to the vision of his mother and father crying tipped me over the edge.

It’s a week into the Olympics and I think I may need medication to come back down after such an entertaining fortnight.

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