The pants-washing Muggle

1st August

It was my day off today so, naturally, I was back at the ExCeL using my boxing ticket. I’ll clear one thing up; to get this ticket I applied like everybody else twelve months ago, as Games makers, we didn’t get any freebies in the way of tickets. It was interesting viewing the world not as a Games maker. I was sort of an Olympics Muggle. I didn't even get to direct one person to the toilet.

Finally, Team GeeBee won a medal. We watched it in the spectator zone, in a sort of holding pen before the boxing, which obviously was a fantastic atmosphere. Having said that, the powers that be played Blur’s Song 2 about 500 yards before the finish line, jumping the gun somewhat.

My seat at the boxing- naturally, a worse view than the volunteers

Boxing, in my opinion, is a sport that suffers when it turns professional. Amateur boxing, 3 rounds of 3 minutes, ensured that there were no instances of two lumbering heavyweights dancing around the ring for 11 rounds before going at it for all of about thirty seconds. This was like a highlights package of a fight, fast and furious. I guess the answer of whether the Olympics has truly inspired spectators is if the two-week gymnastic/cycling/swimming fans feel inspired to watch these sports in the intervening four years between Olympics. I will certainly be looking to get to amateur boxing fights following my prolonged love-affair with Olympic boxing. Heck, if I wasn’t so middle class, I’d probably look to take it up myself.

Another major plus point of amateur boxing is the fact that everybody sees the scores in between rounds. The benefits of this were shown in their full glory with a fight between an Italian and a Cameroonian. The Cameroonian, with no chance of reclaiming the final round on points, simply went at the Italian like a whirling dervish, arms ablaze, attempting to knock him out. This is not two men brawling. This is sport at its purest, its most raw. Four years of training, all over for one man inside nine minutes. Sport as art.

See, I can do serious too.

I’m already quite emotional at the idea of all this being over in eight days’ time. It’s quite hard to convey why, as there is little to compare it to in layman’s terms. I suppose the nearest buzz I’ve felt to the experience is being involved in theatre productions. It’s the buzz, the camaraderie, the adrenalin, the plaudits.

For a change of scenery, I wandered down Carnaby Street and Oxford Street. My word, I was made for that street. I positively waltzed up and down, doffing my cap at every socialite and Made in Chelsea lookalike.

Then I came back to camp and washed my pants in the sink.