Surviving the Olympics

Press, 26 September 1988, Page 5

Surviving the Olympics

Wilsons Week...

I have serious doubts whether our television set will survive the Olympic Games. The urge to aim a size-11 boot at the screen is overwhelming.

At the heart of the matter lies a basic disinterest in sport and a general belief that stay-at-homes should be able to slouch in front of the TV set for an evening’s mind-numbing entertainment.

But throughout the last week, desperate measures to switch channels produced either Soviet gymnasts on the parallel bars or tales of oil-rich Texan families. The trouble is that the children are taking a patriotic interest in the fortunes of the Kiwis at Seoul, and rather than appear as intelligent as a slab of wet cement, Daddy has to keep in

touch with the Games for their benefit. “Did we win medals today?” For the sake of appearances it’s crucial to know the answer. Alternatively I couid change the subject. “Oh look! A flying saucer in the garden.” That ploy works only once and the Games go on forever.

So against my better interests I kept one eye on the television coverage which, to the uninitiated, did seem to be coverage of a Soviet/ Korean gymnastics meeting. AH of the names were unpronounceable and sounded like dishes taken from European restaurant menus. As one who believes parallel bars are things you find in pubs, it was quite an education to see lithe Soviet gymnasts

whipping around these things. One gentleman tried whirling around, holding on with only one hand. This the commentator called difficult. I called it showing off. When he slipped and crashed into the bar, the commentator said a crack had appeared in the Russian armour. I’d suggest a crack or two also appeared in the chap’s ribs. It all seemed rather pointless, knowing these

people train six hours a day, six days a week so they can whirl around parallel bars once every four years in a land where boxing referees become unwitting participants in the fisticuffs. Night after night the parade of sporting images continues and my temper shortens. Fortunately, there is no shotgun in the house and so the TV set survives. “Did we win any medals today?” asked the youngsters on Thursday. Rather than answer, I switched on the set, knowing that TVNZ would be rerunning Mark Todd and Charisma’s success with the same frequency as a peak-hour bus timetable. The annoying aspect of the Olympics is that the sportspeople are so enthusiastic and dedicated.

When the kids were in bed I secretly switched over to the American wrestling programme, where comedy prevails and man-mountains with names like Hacksaw Jim Duggan whack people with lengths of four by two. It may not be sport but it’s great entertainment.

I think the range of Olympic sports is too restrictive and biased towards fit people. It’s high time a new range of sports, for those built for comfort rather than speed, was introduced. Olympic wallpaperhanging, for example. Or lawnmowing and roofpainting.

Television marathon viewing is another potential candidate. Include that in the Games and at last I’d be in for a chance at the medals. — DAVE WILSON