I WAS that geeky boy. You know the one: the one who was unwanted by any team captain for any sport during PE class. Nobody wanted me on their side. Even my friends didn't want me. The asthmatic and still puppy-fatted were preferable to me.
The dinner ladies and school matron were preferable to me. Damn it all, the pommel horse was preferable to me.
My problem is that I'm just naturally - although my partner insists that it's entirely unnatural - uncoordinated. By the time my brain had relayed the information to my hands and feet about where the incoming ball should land, it had usually landed on my face.
I have never been able to kick a ball in a straight line, I cannot catch and I cannot run while holding something. My mere presence on a team was enough for the other side to start celebrating their victory.
Yet despite the evidence presented to them twice a week for seven years my PE teachers seemed to think that there must be something I could do. It was like I was some sort of challenge to them. So they tried me with every shape and size of ball and with any piece of equipment they had tucked away.
They had me climbing ropes and flagpoles and those strange bar things that used to be on the side walls of the assembly hall. I was tried out with rugby, cricket, football and hockey. When those failed they tried me with cross country, high jumps, long jumps, the javelin, discus and shot put. I quite liked squash (indeed, I sometimes think the school only built a squash court to see if there was any sport I could manage to do) but it seems I was dangerously and recklessly aggressive in my attitude to the safety of my opponents.
Anyway, I left school as I had begun it, useless at all sports. And I wasn't bothered. I had no interest in sport. I didn't follow any football teams or sports of any kind. By the time I reached university I had realised that the perfect exercise consisted of a book in one hand, a glass of Pimms in the other and my feet on a footstool. For the last 40 or so years I have managed to avoid sport and learned how to switch off my brain even when there's a football match on the television in the lounge and everyone else is watching it.
Even my mother-in-law's banshee-like howls of protest when any other team is playing against the Irish rugby team can be drowned out by my focusing on Sherlock Holmes.
But very unexpectedly I have found myself lured into the Olympics. It started with the fencing. I couldn't understand why they were using bendy swords and why they weren't going hell-for-leather like Errol Flynn and Basil Rathbone in The Adventures of Robin Hood. It all seemed terribly tame: no blood and scratches, just a light coming on to confirm you had been hit. Yet it was undeniably fun to watch.
And the same with the cycling. Round and round and round and round they went and three hours later I was still watching them go round and round and round. I never knew who was in the lead, let alone how they scored points, but it was addictive.
As for the gymnastics, some of those performances on the floor routines were simply and beautifully mesmerising. For the first time in my life I realised that sport actually makes sense and that the dedication and training are worth it. I still don't 'get' some of the team stuff, but the individual contributions are astonishing to watch. And even when most of the competitors don't make it past the first heat--after four years training - it is impossible to just sit back and dismiss them as losers.
The oddest thing of the past two weeks, though, has been the 'dancing horses.' I have no idea if it's a sport or not (indeed, I'm not sure what the difference is between sports, games and recreational pastimes) but it was a joy to behold. That bond between horse and rider is based on love and trust and watching them actually made me feel better.
I have clearly spent far too long believing that sport is a waste of time. At Olympic level some of the most bizarre and complicated looking forms of sport are raised to greatness. Even people like me can see that sporting achievements and dedication are worth celebrating. I wish I could go back in time and become the guy that everyone wanted on a team.
