Olympic-sized Pride

Forgive this blog. It’s probably not the first and almost certainly not the last that will proceed to gush forth about last night’s heroics at the Olympics.   

However, it’s Sunday morning and I’m up and about having slept incredibly poorly as I was still too pumped and excited following the evening’s events.

Those who know me and work with me will provide first-hand evidence that up until Danny Boyle’s superb opening ceremony, I was not a fan of the ‘lympics. More than that, I probably could have been considered anti-Olympics. The thought of braving the driving rain to see someone jogging with a candle left me cold. I was also annoyed that the games were being heralded as “good for Britain”, maybe “good for London” said I, puffed up with the righteous indignation so readily worn by the what’s-in-it-for-me brigade.

I won’t comment on the economics of the games, beyond reports I’ve read saying that Japanese tourism was down in the Lakes, but also that West End London was a ghost town as a result of people staying away because of the games. Just this morning Jeremy Clarkson has tweeted: “Off to America today. Trip planned months ago to get away from the Olympics. Thought it’d be dull. Mistake. Big mistake.”

Like many people I changed my tune around the moment when the beautiful and brilliant Olympic Cauldron was lit by the athletes of tomorrow. It really was the crowning moment of a glorious ceremony. Yes, Britain has its fair share of problems at present that will have to be dealt with in due course, but showing those problems in front of a global audience isn’t really going to make for a joyful opening ceremony is it?

Through his creative tour de force and reminders of what this country should be proud of (NHS, I’m looking at you), Boyle’s great accomplishment was not only showing the world what we can do and have done, but also in moving us to feel proud of our little country. I’ll say that again: proud of our little country. Be honest, before the Olympics, when was the last time any of you felt that?

It was a feeling that has been bubbling near the surface for most of the week as the medals flowed freely and the nation got behind the home athletes. It was a feeling that reached boiling point last night when after an already fruitful day at the rowing and the <voiceover man voice> Velodrome, Jessica Ennis blew away the competition in the 800 metres to win the Heptathlon by a country mile, closely followed by Greg Rutherford who jumped 8.31m to win gold, leaving only Mo Farah to try and complete hat-trick in the 10,000m, which - as we all know now - he did in the most dramatic fashion.

Our cup runneth over and I finally realised just how wrong I had been about the Games. Britain has been depressed, run down by a media gorging itself on the ill-advised actions of a powerful few, but the games have reminded us that as nation we are more than lying politicians, vampiric bankers and megalomaniacal media moguls.

They’ve reminded us, that the vast majority of British people are a decent, hard-working bunch and whilst most of us channel this into funding our day to day lives, there are some among us who channel it into becoming the very best in their chosen field. They work day and night, suffering setbacks and crisis of confidence, but ultimately never losing sight of the endgame.

Last night all that graft came to fruition and sporting examples of the very best of us showed us in spectacular fashion that if you truly want something enough, it is within your power to go and get it!

National pride has been restored. That athlete with the gold medal round their neck? “Yep, that’s one of ours and stone me, did they earn it!”

Thank you to all members of Team GB for lifting us out of the doldrums (however fleetingly it may be) and for reminding us of what can be accomplished if we are willing to work hard enough for it.

Now that’s good for Britain.