The Olympic Games are about the athletes, not about the spectators and the swarm of officials the quadrennial extravaganza attracts. But if you read the pre-event media coverage of the western journalists, it was all about how far behind the developing world is when compared to the first world which ran these Games somewhat more efficiently. Of course, the media would crib everywhere, including in Atlanta, Georgia 20 years ago when all I had heard before getting to the Games was about the traffic jams. Having landed there, courtesy of the official fizzy drink, all I saw was how much everyone enjoyed the Games.
The beat of the samba announced the Games in Rio on Saturday morning our time and the funky yet economical Opening Ceremony was touching. Brazil has been through the wringer in the last few years and a reflection of the state of the economy rather than millions of pounds extravaganza of the type that Danny Boyle put together for London 2012 was a brilliant statement. South America was not going to splash on the Games aping the West and then be left holding the baby for decades to come as with Montreal, Canada. No country is going to break the bank just to please the visiting sceptic from the western world determined to see only the seamy, dark side of the Olympic city rather than the joy of the games. You could accuse us Third Worlders of being Pollyannas, but who cares?
There is always the fear that the show will be greater than the substance at such mighty gatherings of sports people from about 209 countries around the world.
And yet Rio found some place for the collective conscience in admitting the refugees from Syria and sub-Saharan Africa to field a team. The empathy for the refugee running the war that he did not invite upon himself and his country is a sort of universal feeling at the moment, except in UK after Brexit and maybe Donald Trump. The exceptions should not really matter, which again is a kind of theme of the Olympics. My association with the Olympics was all too brief and came courtesy Coca-Cola as a special guest but even those few days were memorable, particularly the part where the Atlanta park reopened mid city after some cretin had created a blast to inform the world of his angst.
The gathering of 11,000 athletes from everywhere on the globe is a stupendous logistical exercise and the Games Village is the centre of life for more than a fortnight. The joyous stay there is a far cry from the favelas in which so many Brazilians live, but again the Games are not about the dark underbelly of an urban agglomeration. The theme of conservation, of fighting global warming and healing the planet would have found echoes worldwide, coming as the message does from a country with a hugely diverse population and is a microcosm of the world’s problems, including the Zika virus, dirty water and not so clean air. The Maracana Stadium, a repository of Brazil’s first religion, which is football, itself is such a symbol of the host country. The passion for one game - the Beautiful Game -goes way beyond mere jingoism so patented by football.
Gone are the days when the Olympic bid could be made by cities on the basis of lasting benefits from the infrastructure. The costs of holding the Games have become so much that it may take cities three decades to pay off the debts. Tokyo may be able to afford it though there is no telling if we will be saying the same thing four years hence if the world economy does not pick up in that time. There are any number of reports “showing the Olympic and World Cup hosts have derived minimal benefits in employment, tourism and general growth,” writes the former Wisden editor, Mathew Engel. It is hard to dispute what the wise one says although he confesses to be an Olympic sceptic despite having reported seven Olympic Games. What Rio essentially proves is there is a world beyond the old order. The Games can only go to cities that can bid for them. But to see the Games in South America is to see progress. The world is better off for it.
