Women are Best

Anyone with a chronic back weakness from some old injury will tell you that it can and will periodically recur, and often without the trigger being obvious. I have spent far too many hours slumped in my armchair with legs stretched out these past 11 days. That would do it; and there are still another five days to go!

There are many stories occurring in any Olympic Games, some well worthy of notoriety or even a book, but my consuming interest is always to enjoy the sheer skill and competitiveness being played out before my eyes and not, on this occasion, to blog the performances of the athletes or the wonders of the Chinese facilities and organisation.

I did, however, set out to produce a handful of brief posts on what I referred to from the start as “The Alternative Olympics”. I really shouldn’t jump the gun with this particular effort, but I just can’t resist getting it off my chest. So, please indulge me a little while I adopt the mantle of a newspaper TV columnist.

With apologies to the non-British, I would like to comment on the performances of our own BBC TV presenters, knowing that however unqualified I am or unfair it may seem, this post will be read only by a few fellow bloggers and friends and should not be the cause of any harm to the reputations or feelings of the individuals named.

I will start by pronouncing that, in my opinion, the women presenters are doing a far better job than their male counterparts. In the hot seats within the Beijing studio, Hazel Irvine and Sue Barker are taking the Gold and Silver medals respectively, while Michael Johnson, admittedly an American guest and consultant, along with our own Colin Jackson, gets my Bronze, thus far.

Hazel (in overall charge this week) and Sue (predominantly in-charge last week) have been holding the ship steady with professional aplomb and a minimum of over-excitement or exaggeration. Just as importantly, with diminishing hearing consistent with my age, I have been able to understand their every, evenly-annunciated, word.

Unfortunately, a large percentage of the viewers will be ‘knocking on a bit’ just like me, and constantly struggling to catch what is being gushed out in short, quick and often
unintelligible bursts by either Adrian Chiles or Steve Ovett. Which is a great pity for those of us who are avid sports fans and desperate not to miss a word.

Reporting from the various venues, Jill Douglas is walking the Gold, with Steve Cram (track) bringing in the Silver and Sharon Davies (swimming) the Bronze. I would like to add that I have long thought that the supremely knowledgeable and clearly-spoken Stuart Storey (field) should be given a bigger role, but maybe he has a radio face. I can’t remember.

My fellow Geordie and old 10,000m hero, Brendan Foster (track) has always regrettably sounded as though he is chewing a brick between clenched teeth while, on the water, John Inverdale (rowing) and the (can’t remember his name) over-excitable character covering sailing, might both wish to reconsider pushing microphones into faces desperately turning away from the camera, and persistently pressing for statements from totally distraught and crying, failed ‘favourites’. So embarrassing for everybody – what the hell is the rush?

I would say that Clare Balding and Gabby Logan are acquitting themselves reasonably well, but my own two personal favourites are, oddly enough, both Scotswomen, i.e. Hazel Irvine and Jill Douglas. I say ‘oddly enough’ but their respective accents are barely discernable. The residual and giveaway, slightly-clipped tones only add to their clarity, as far as I am concerned.

The above are only my personal opinions, I must repeat, but since my current devotion to the events in Beijing has reduced me to moving around the house bent almost double, and to seriously thinking about a hearing-aid, I feel that I have earned the right to voice them.

“Howay, the lads and lasses of Team GB!” "Howay, the BBC Presenters!"