That’s not fair play
On board S/Y Bushido
As far as I’m concerned, the less said about the goings on in Beijing the better. I know, I know, I’ll be watching the judo and the athletics, especially the former (there are no drug cheats in judo, no money under the table, no money, pure and simple), but competition among chemists does not race my motor, as they say in Detroit. The opening ceremony may have dazzled some people, but it left me cold. There was no humanity to it, just a lot of Chinese animated figures acting as robots. Who invented opening ceremonies anyway? Back in the good old days Greece marched in first, in step, followed by the rest. Then some politician declared the Games open and that was it. No fuss, no tiny children marching next to some giant freak, no bull about peace and goodwill to men.
One of the most unpleasant sights was that of small African teams marching in without athletes, but only fat officials, gaily waving tiny flags and greeting the crowd. Officials have no place in opening ceremonies. They should sit in their hotels with their hookers and let the athletes do the walking. But most of these tiny African and Pacific rim countries show up in order to show up — none of their athletes having met the qualifications — so the fat ones have their moment of glory, but it’s still a disgrace.
I have often written about my favourite Games, Rome 1960, but now an American by the name of David Maraniss — a big Clinton fan, incidentally — has produced an opus about those Olympics of 48 years ago, and the book has caught on in the Home of the Depraved. Maraniss calls it The Olympics That Changed the World, a typical American exaggeration, because the only thing that changed back in 1960 was that Americans stopped winning everything and had to take second place to the mighty Soviet Union. Like many American scribes, Maraniss is a hero worshipper, and he regales the reader with tales of a young Cassius Clay in the Olympic village and how Clay made mincemeat out of his opponents. This is simply not true. I cannot remember whether it was the quarters or the semis, but an Australian by the name of Madigan beat Clay cleanly. The judges gave the American a split decision, but it was a joke. I knew Madigan — or could it be Mulligan? — because we boxed together daily in a New York gym, the NYAC, and, although all man, he was a male model for a while in order to pay the bills. The Aussie once sparred with Ingo Johansson and almost put the world’s second-ranked heavyweight on the floor. Clay ran away for three rounds but was declared the winner. Maraniss is a cheerleader who has read the publicity handouts, but I saw the fight and Clay lost it.
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ian skidmore
August 14th, 2008 4:56pmand quite right too. I do not agree about the Chinese Opening Ceremony which was magnificent despite the carping.Taki's expose is no more than the truth When I was marginally involved in the Games in England the bribery that went on disgusted me.
I ws told by a member of the sporting hierchy that there was no chance of the water events coming to Wales. It had all been fixed the year before
Make Celebrities History
August 15th, 2008 12:40amHave you noticed how sportsmen, and more particulary sportswomen (who, by definition, are not gentlemen), behave increasingly like British pop singers. That is to say, they are self-obsessed, empty headed, ill-bred and badly behaved, unsportsmanlike, must win at all costs, even at the cost of cheating, amd seize any opportunity to talk immodestly in public about themselves. In Australia recently a girl called Jana, face like the back of a bus and something to do with hurdles, erupted on television screens in Australia (where women seem to have disproportionate levels of testosterone) to tell a grateful world about her injuries and their effect on her career. To hear her talk, you might have thought she had discovered a cure for AIDS or located and arrested Osama bin Laden. She was in her own estimation both the medium and the message. We live in an age when actors and hurdle runners give press conferences (viz Russell Crowe in Berlin), and rock singers lecture Presidents about poverty in Africa.Where shall we find the next shallow to plumb?
Bruce Gee
August 15th, 2008 12:49pmTaki,
It was Tony Madigan from Australia and I totally agree with all your comments re the current corrupt Olympic shambles.
Bart
August 15th, 2008 3:03pmIt comes as no surprise that Taki, the Balkan lounge lizard, admires Avery Brundage. After all, Brundage was a Nazi sympathizer who, in his role as head of the USOC, barred Jewish American athletes, such as Marty Glickman, who had earned their spots on the team, from participation in the 1936 Berlin Olympics. He claimed that he didn't want to offend Nazi Germany. In 1972, Brundage,as head of the IOC, insisted that the 1972 Munich Games continue even after the murder of the 11 Israeli athletes at the hands of PLO terrorists. Brundage also opposed any efforts to ban apartheid-era South Africa's Whites-only teams from participating in the Olympics. His commitment to amateurism did not prevent him from turning a blind eye to the corrupt practices of totalitarian states of right and left, while castigating Americans and others who wanted a level playing field.
Brundage was garbage and it is not surprising that the louche annelid Taki admires him.
Aussie runner
August 16th, 2008 12:29pmTaki I agree re '60 = abebe a real olympic hero - he also went on to represent ethiopia at paralympics in archery. Also agree future games should be in Greece - I would also suggest that to be true to original games all participants should compete nude.
david
August 18th, 2008 11:45amYes, the 1960 Games were magnificent. I was there as a teenager, nervously waiting for my exam results. Wilma Rudolph had long, long legs and grace. Mary Rand (then Bignall)was just "emerging". In the 100 metres, Norton and his U.S. colleague took it in turns to "beat the gun" in order to disturb Hary, but he left them at the eventual start. Yes, John Thomas (what a name !) lost the high jump and, scarily, the German chanting at that end of the stadium had Nurembourg echoes. My memory (nostalgia?)tells me Milka Singh won the 400 metres, but no matter. His silky smooth style was a joy. However, my nomination for the star of the Games would be either the Italian 200 metres gold winner Livio Berutti (imagine the effect of his running in sun glasses on this teenager)or Peter Snell. Snell was unknown outside N.Z. and all the Antipodean attention was focussed on Herb Elliot, but I saw him burst through the field beginning down the back straight in the 800 metres semi-final. My father had a ticket for the final the following day and I told him to look out for this barrel-chested unknown, who was bound to win. As they say, the rest is history.
Paskalis
August 19th, 2008 1:15pmFour replies to a Taki column is quite a groundswell. The number falls far short of that for an add for an ointment promising miracle hair growth, of course, but it encourages the suspicion that someone might actually be reading this stuff.
Colonial
August 20th, 2008 10:20amWhere does Paskalis get the idea that there is a formula which says that comment posted is in direct proportion to readership? Taki tends to air what is largely considered factual by his conservative readership. It is a group unimpressed with the wet left and bling encrusted newly rich who now infest the world. And are not worth the bother of comment, which would anyway go over their heads. Sure, an unbecomingly randy old goat and a bit of a snob. But so what?