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Save the Games for sports whose zenith is the Olympics
Last year, along with an entire rapturous nation, I cheered the Matildas until my vocal cords gave out.
Every kick and tackle, every chance and miss, every priceless goal, I was there every second of the way.
But last week? I didn’t watch a second of the Tillies’ ill-fated campaign. Frankly, I didn’t care. International football has its zenith, and it’s the World Cup, not the Olympics.
It’s the same for other Olympic sports, such as golf, tennis and (arguably) basketball. The same for cricket, which will become an Olympic sport at LA 2028. And it’s the same for rugby league, despite the provincial sport’s laughable attempts to be included in Brisbane 2032.
No, the Olympics is my quadrennial opportunity to get amped about archery, to become a fencing fanatic, a judo junkie, a devotee of discus.
Anyone armed with a remote control can become an armchair expert in weightlifting and the vagaries of modern pentathlon for two glorious weeks of competition.
One of these Games, I will understand cycling’s team pursuit. It won’t be these Games, I’m sure, but it will hopefully be in time for Brisbane 2032.
These are sports in which athletes have a singular goal – to compete at an Olympic or Paralympic Games. These are the sports that need to be celebrated within sight of a burning cauldron and five interlocking rings.
Tennis players dream of winning a Grand Slam. Golfers dream of wearing a green jacket, not a gold medal. For two cricketing nations, it’s the Ashes. For the rest, the World Cup.
And for footballers, it’s their own World Cup.
Lest I be accused of jumping off a losing team’s bandwagon, my devotion for the Matildas, and the World Game in general, is beyond reproach.
I was lucky enough to be right behind the goal at the Milton end of a packed Suncorp Stadium, to watch that epic shoot-out against France. Sport doesn’t get much better than that.
Truly, the pinnacle of the game.
And that’s the point – the Matildas and the rest of the world’s elite female footballers had their time in the sun last year.
Lionel Messi spent his storied career dreaming of one thing – lifting the FIFA World Cup.
He became immortal when he achieved that goal. So did Pele, Maradona, Moore and Beckenbauer before him.
Messi’s gold medal at Beijing 2008 barely rates a mention in his career retrospectives. Indeed, without Google, I – Cameron Atfield, certified football nutter – cannot tell you who won football gold three years ago in Tokyo (it was the Canadian women and Brazilian men, thanks Google!).
If FIFA must be included, make it a variation of the game – like futsal (as suggested by my colleague Vince Rugari on Elon’s hellsite last week), or even beach soccer.
These are variations of the game not nearly as celebrated as the main thing and an Olympic gold medal in either would certainly be any player’s ultimate goal.
And isn’t that what the Olympics is all about? That singular determination of striving for gold paying off on the world stage.
The stuff of which dreams are made.