Sweet moments of defeat make victory even better

WHILE zipping around town this week in my miracle car – all electric in case you hadn’t heard – I have been listening to the radio more than ever. As I have been ever since I first saw Brendan Foster on a fuzzy TV screen 45 years ago, I have been absolutely hooked on the Olympics.

The athletics hasn’t even started yet. Without any planning whatsoever my daily routine has morphed into one that enables me to keep up with everything that’s going on. And I mean everything. I now find myself watching – and quickly becoming an expert in – sports that on any normal day of the week would be mindnumbingly dull. I’ve invested time in archery, BMX racing, shooting, rowing, triathlon, and – wait for it – skateboarding. I’ve invested a lot of time watching swimming, and, let’s face it, outside of the Olympics swimming is more than a little dry.

I have thoroughly enjoyed watching what I discovered at school was by some distance the worst sport of all time: hockey. All that fiddling about around one’s ankles and shins, and backswings that always seemed to land in someone’s teeth, meant hockey and I never really got on.

But watching people who know what they are doing has educated me that it is one heck of a game. Growing up in a horse household means you either grow up hooked on our equine friends or hoping that you never ever have to see one of those slightly frightening things let alone have to deal with one. I am pretty firmly in the latter camp, but have always loved racing, and even better, cross country. Dressage on the other hand is the horse event that was clearly designed to make people who could take or leave horses, really resent them.

Dull, dull, dull. That is until you watch it at the Olympics, when it suddenly becomes clear it is incredibly skilful, very compelling, and beautiful to watch. I may even have passed comment on the quality of the odd extended trot. On the radio yesterday morning an analyst was asking the parent of a victorious Olympian if ‘all the sacrifice’ would have been worth it if their child had come fourth, or seventh. It was a better question than the usual “How do you feel?” and prompted a discussion on what the actual sacrifices were, the pursuit of dreams and a firm conclusion that of course it would have been worth it.

Ever since 2012, Team GB has got used to winning gold medals, and gold fever can become addictive. Even today I’m looking back on a day on which we won six medals, including a gold, and feeling like we could have done better. The rowing team is coming home without a gold for the first time in yonks and already there are discussions about what went wrong.

My guess is, apart from one crew forgetting to steer, not much. I also guess that after the crushing disappointment of not winning, every single athlete who returns from Tokyo will have enjoyed a life enriching experience that they will never forget. I never won much in my glittering sporting career and to be honest the times I remember most vividly are not moments of triumph.

I can recall a catch that would have won us a school cup final being dropped in microscopic slow-motion detail; the pain of being hit under the left armpit time and time again by a South African fast bowler; crawling off court and vomiting after being beaten in a fives semi final. I remember them all better than any victory, as I do the laughs, comradeship and the joy of being part of a team. There’s no doubt that taking part is more important than winning, but winning doesn’t half make taking part more fun!