My Day In The Olympic City
END-GAME
Weekend Of September 30th and October 1st
The last weekend of the Olympics saw me off to Olympic Park on Saturday (coughcoughwithmyfamilycoughcough) for the Men's Football Final between the favourites Spain and Cameroon, the rank underdog, but probably unjustifiably so; they had been an extremely talented and fast, daring team through the Olympic tournament and in previous campaigns, and as it turned out on the day continued in this vein.
God, that was an extremely mature paragraph for me. Can't have that.
Boobies.
There, had to get that out of my system...Cameroon started off a little slowly to be down 2-0 at the break, me missing Spain's first goal due to my family's inability to get ready anywhere near when they are supposed to leave. It's a genetic thing.
The second half began with a crowd of over 100,000 willing on the 11-man African side, and they rose to the occassion, with two marvellous goals to send the game into golden-goal extra-time. After a hard-fought 30 minutes of extra time, the two sides were still inseperable on the scoreboard - though I don't think I'd be alone in rationalising that Cameroon were clearly the better side. Fate emerged from somewhere within the stands - probably the women's toilet, I don't know - to help Cameroon to their first soccer medal, and first gold in any sport.
Towards the evening it was down to the Hockey Centre where we watched the Men's Bronze and Gold-medal matches. In the Bronze match, Australia claimed the bronze 6-3 over an improving Pakistan side. In the main game, which I didn't stick around for, the Netherlands defeated Korea in a penalty-stroke shootout.
As I wandered down Olympic Boulevard at 10 at night, I was overcome with all kinds of emotion. Watching a throng of people pour out of the Main Stadium and into a beautifully-lit twilight on this the last night of competition was something truly bittersweet. Almost poignantly and poetically, I didn't have my camera on me that night, so this beautiful memory will always and only linger on in my mind, crisp as ever.
Decapitated Mule.
Yahoo Serious.
There, just had to break up the rhythm again...
SUNDAY
CLosing Night. After 7 years of high-spirited/low-spirited, cynical build-up to the Games, they were over. I met up with some friends and ventured into the city for the last time over the Olympic Period. Unfortunately for me, around 1.5 to 2 million people had the same idea. No, actually, it was terrific to be part of such a huge event, and that's why I didn't mind nearly being crushed into a bloody pulp in a 30 minute wait for McDonald's at Circular Quay. The Ceremony was excellent, a big party; one or two of the bands chosen to play were pretty old and crappy, but it didn't really seem to matter, somehow. Highlights at the Rocks, where I was stationed with my mates, included sing-alongs to Australian rock legends Midnight Oil, 'Waltzing Matilda' and 'Down Under', and rubbing my body up against attractive women. It was all capped off by an incredible fireworks display, a F-111 jet fly-over and more rubbing up against incredibly attractive women.
After then losing and finding half of our little group, it was on to several pubs and 'drinking a-hoy-hoy'. Many more attractive women, including a cutie from Norway who rubbed against me and smiled. Aaah, poor drunk girl, you don't know what you're doing. You don't want me, no-one does. Go back to Sven.
Well, that's about that. Two amazing weeks, and an Olympics hailed as the 'best ever' by media and Samaranch himself, amongst others. Thanks for taking the time to look at this page everyday, and I hope you liked what you read - I didn't. In particular, thanks to anyone that took the time to tell me they liked the stories I hurriedly wrote everyday, and a big thanks to my international 'fans' such as Monique, Rand, Wiggie, Sunil in India and many others.
Friday, September 29th
Today I went along with the family (Ugh....but it meant another free ticket...) to a morning session of the Athletics at Stadium Australia, and despite my intial fears that it would be a non-eventful session, there was plenty 'o' stuff to keep a hormonal 18-soon-to-be-19 year old male sated.
There's really not much else to say; bought some souvenir stuff, which in 50 years time will have appreciated a mammoth $2 in value (ie. Everyone's buying it, it's worth shit as a collectable), but my shirt, my hat and my pin look very purdy.
Tomorrow it's off to the Men's Football Gold Medal Match at noon-ish, where Cameroon take on a talented Spain. Spain are good things to win, but I'm going for Cameroon - I always back the underdog, cos I'm an Australian.
Then in the evening it's the Men's Hockey Gold and Bronze Medal matches, a double-bill which could have been so much more - unfortunately the Australians gallantly went down to the Netherlands 5-4 in a penalty stroke shootout. Australia will now go into the bronze match, and good luck to the boys.
I'll be there in my Australian flag cape. My friends Shu and Kev know what I'm talking about, right boys?
Monday, September 25th
On a historic night which saw Cathy Freeman clinch gold for Australia in the 400 metres, me and my friends Shu and Kev decided to go in and watch it on the big screen in Tumbalong Park. Wet grass aside, it was an amazing atmosphere in there, and it was made all the more spectacular by my newly-purchased large Australian flag, which during the night I wore as a cape.
We watched Cathy run an amazing race, and stuck around to belt out the national anthem with around 10,000 others before walking across the city to Circular Quay, taking time during the walk to act like asses and drape the flag from bridges and wave it at cars, getting many horn-honks and waves of support.
The harbour was looking fantastic as usual, and the ferries were doing a roaring trade as a result. We wandered round to the Rocks, then back around to the Opera House, all the way shouting "THAT'S AN AUSTRALIAN!!" at fellow cape-wearers, plus acting as judges for a bunch of kids holding their own races. Personally, I think the younger kid won, but Grey-shirt kid got the nod from the others. Stupid Grey-shirt kid.
We made our way back to the Quay, on the way harassing street performers including one of those 'talented' (feel the sarcasm) statue guys. We went to the street bar, hoping to grab a few beers and watch The Dream (a late-night satirical Olympics show hosted by two of my all-time favourite comedians, Roy Slaven and H.G. Nelson) on the big screen, only to find out we'd need to take out a bank loan just for a can of Victoria Bitter. Instead of just saying 'No, we won't drink', we crumbled and bought beer.
Idiots.
Friday, September 22nd
In a vain and ill-fated attempt to scrape up some cheap Olympic tickets so I could go to events with my friends (yes, I have real friends too) myself and Alexander John Murray (seen left in a striking pose) set upon Sydney City tonight.
Aiming to leave at a relatively early 2PM, we actually only ended up getting in a city-bound train at around 5PM (not naming any names here COUGHMURRAYCOUGH) and got to a crowded Central around 6-ish.
Walking to a packed Darling Harbour, we queued for cheap seats for the best part of two hours before discovering that cheap seats for Olympic events starting in a few days time are a delightful illusion, a fantasy comparable to the Loch Ness Monster or, for that matter, a Scotsman without bad breath and a liquour problem. Sure, there were still Class-A seats available, but who wants to spend $45 on a hockey game featuring two teams from other countries you don't care about?!! (Aaah, yes, the Olympic Spirit in all its glory).
So, with our night unfulfilled, we journeyed home, after hanging around at Darling Harbour for a while, then taking a walk through a bustling and atmospheric Chinatown. I think, with my keenly-honed sagacity above and beyond my years, that I felt I had let Alex, Dick, Phil and Roger down, as if some act of mine had robbed them of a chance to savour the Olympics with close friends, to dare to dream, to enact thousands of other plastique cliches that aren't worth your time...
Then I laughed. I already have tickets to the Men's Soccer and Hockey Finals, plus a session of Athletics. Haha! Have fun guys...AT HOME!!! MUHAHAHAHA!!!!
Fuck, I'm a hump. No wonder I'm here early Saturday morning typing this. I really need to re-evaluate who I am...Nah, screw it, Simpson's 24-hour marathon is on.
Sunday, September 17th
Went into the city today to see the Men's Triathlon, and even though the highest Australian finisher, Miles Stewart, finished 6th, I had a great day. The eventual winner was from Canada; their first gold medal...unfortunately, I've forgotten his name. Ah, screw it, you're on the internet - look it up yourself, you hump.
Sydney's really turning on the weather for this whole thing, and the crowds were at in force - there had to be over 150,000 along the entire route. Due to these large crowds, I made my own viweing platform by clambering up a wall to stand in a window-sill - my defence: 'Everyone else was doing it!'. It actually provided quite a good viewing platform, plus I felt like such a rebel...and we all know how attractive that makes me to women.
Yeah, that made me laugh, too.
Even more excitingly, after this I walked back down to Circular Quay and saw poor, foolish tourists buying some rather ordinary merchandise. Ohhh well, their loss...when they get home they'll discover their 'souvenir' is illegally manufactured in a sweatshop, someone from a Government agency will track them down and from there it all gets a tad nasty.
My God, can I ever get off topic...
Weatherwise it was, as I have mentioned, a wonderful day: sunny, bright...unfortunately later it got f$^king hot, and being the intelligent creature I am, I decided to walk home from my local train station...If I had of died of heatstroke, that's what we in the biological field of study call 'natural selection': idiots like me being scratched from the gene pool.
But again, I digress...
Anyhoots, as I quickly type this at 6PM I'm preparing for another big night in front of the telly, then probably going out again tomorrow somewhere...who the hell knows?
I go where I want
That's what makes me such a rebel, ladies.