The Olympics have their dignified moments. OK, crying into the swimming pool over silver is not one of them. Neither is the misfiring missile Magnussen saying swimmers “just want to have fun” (note to Magnussen – this is your job!), but beach volleyball – I mean, really?
Let’s run through it: a fake beach, outfits the diameter of dental floss and an atmosphere that seems, well, even through the TV, un-olympian. What gets me is that it doesn’t even pretend to be olympian. It just seems like, well, a fun game of volleyball at the beach.
Not that there’s anything wrong with that. Especially if it happens at an actual beach. And I’m also not disputing the athleticism involved. The girls (do guys play beach volleyball? If so – when? I’m watching!) do seem to know how to put that ball away. They can also give the ball a bit of biff. All helpful skills in life. But is a gold medal in beach volleyball equivalent to the marathon? The 100m sprint? An 800m medley?
You see, it’s kind of like making beach cricket an olympic sport, or extreme hopscotch or darts, or badminton, or table tennis or … oh, hang on.