So many memories – some coincidental. On the day of the opening ceremony we had just published a piece on a new survey of jellyfish in UK waters – and that night, in the ceremony out came the dancing Tunnock’s Teacakes – like a cluster of surreal Moon Jellyfish.
The biggest memory – and the greatest engine for the Games that the disarming Prince Imran has just – with good reason – called ‘the best Commonwealth Games ever’ – has been the crowds for every single event: supportive, in fine voice and with a warmth you could feel thr0ugh the television screen.
That audience was from all arts and parts, good natured and inclusive but the heart of it was the home crowd from Glasgow and boy, did they do their city proud – steady footed, direct eyed, good hearted, open, helpful, direct – enviable.
For the Games itself, all of the venues looked and were Olympic class. We have had reports from people attending a wide variety of events and all have said, independently of each other, that the organisation was fantastic. That was obvious in the lack of delay in event following event, punctuated only by well paced medal ceremonies.
The Commonwealth Flotilla was the most fabulous tribute to the River Clyde, from which Glasgow has always derived its life – a tribute paid not only by the boats but by the uncountable hordes that thronged the banks of the river all the way to – and all over – Pacific Quay.
In the sporting achievements, which were so many – and in so comfortably an integrated games – some are unforgettable – like:
- Neil Fachie with his pilot, Craig MacLean winning two Gold medals on the tandem;
- Alistair Brownlee in the Men’s Triathlon in what he had said earlier himself was ‘unbeatable’ form;
- Eilidh Child and Lindsay Sharp winning indomitable Silver medals;
- Dan Keatings’ breathtakingly perfect performance for Gold in the Gymnastics’ Pommel event;
- David Weir’s magisterial win in the Men’s T54 1500m, his first Common wealth Gold amidst a welter of World Championship and Olympic Golds;
- Scots breaststroker Ross Murdoch creaming down the pool for Gold in the Men’s 200 metres;
- David Rudisha’s grace in defeat in the Men’s 800 metres;
- the England team’s Gold in the Men’s 4 x 400 relay, with the emergence of a surefire international competitor in Matthew Hudson-Smith;
- and Geraint Thomas’s Gold for Wales in the Men’s cycle road race on the last day.
The media have not emerged well. The Press Conference on the arrival at the Games of Usain Bolt was a masterclass in idiotic casual triviality.
Then there was Michael Jamieson. Traditionally, the press build someone up to an unconscionable degree, lumping a welter of responsibility on shoulders that should not have to bear this particular weight on top of the imperative to perform at peak – - and then grind them down when they lose. This lack of fidelity could not have been more evident than it was in Jamieson’s numbing defeat by Ross Murdoch in the pool. Jamieson will be back and we can only hope that he now feels free to leave the media to themselves.
And there was the juvenile fawning on Usain Bolt – who delivered the pantomime required of him on finals night in the Men’s 4 x 100 metre relay and probably ended up at odds with himself for doing so.
The television presenters did much better, with a new talent evident in Rebecca Adlington – confident, well informed, sympathetic and understanding of the psychology of the athletes in a way that added to the information given. Her partnership with Mark Foster at the pool was a markedly successful one.
The most painful moment came in the aftermath of a golden moment when the England cyclist, Joanna Rowsell won the Women’s 3000 individual pursuit. Speaking of her success afterwards, she spoke of the contribution of it being her ‘home Games’ - and then very quickly and in an unspoken apology, she felt the need to add the word ‘almost’.
Here was an exemplary athlete who was in every way at her ‘home Games’ but who suddenly felt that she had tripped on a political shibboleth and this wasn’t her place at all. The sense in that scrambled ‘almost’ of a puzzled alienation was very real. You had to think, ‘What are we doing?’
But tonight, with the piper standing high above the crowd at Hampden, playing Auld Lang Syne, with Lulu and Kylie leading the singing on the stage below and the community of Commonwealth nations together for the last time until Queensland’s Gold Coast in 2018, all anyone could think was ‘Thank you, Glasgow’.
Everything possible – and a lot that seemed impossible – was done, done well and done memorably. It was said tonight that Glasgow has saved the Commonwealth Games, whose future was apparently at risk. That is some achievement – and Glasgow did it.
