COMMONWEALTH GAMES OPENING CEREMONY
The Age Green Guide 23 March 2006


What a relief to have 26-hour a day coverage of the Commonwealth Games. We've had so little sport recently, if you don't count the 563 separate cricket matches, the endless annual par-boiling of tennis players called the Australian Open and various lungeing and lugeing in the lounge room live on direct delay from Turin.

Channel 9's Commgames coverage began by setting the magical tone: the opening ceremony fairy-lit river parade which suggested the Yarra was a vibrant resource for recreation rather than diluted poop.

Sydney spokesfaffers Ray Martin and the ever-languid Liz Hayes sounded bemused as the sheer force of imagination transmuted into fantastical imagery before their very backs. Liz took the "Apparently it's supposed to mean..." option, with the air of a sceptical junior constable giving evidence: "when challenged, Your Worship, the alleged suspect on the left hand side of the carriageway claimed to be representing an alleged dream-time message of alleged goodwill, allegedly dressed as giant marsupial in a hat. May I refer to my notes?".

The first swimming contest was called on ABC local radio by a skeleton staff of four commentators for a 50-metre race. The only improvement would have been stationing a Norman May clone at three metre intervals down the pool and getting them to shout "Gold!", one after another.

As the days passed, inevitable questions would be asked. Couldn't Channel 9 could have squeezed in some more helicopter shots and slow motion replays? We couldn't get enough of the Snufalupagussian form of podium denizen and fiefdom inspector Ron Walker, or of Channel Nine staff shouting into microphones the size of their heads. Surely we could have heard more of the words champion, hero, Australian, Aussie, incredible, awesome, amazing, and effort, not to mention Pittman and Jana.

The commitment of the athletes could not quite overcome the elephant in the middle of the room: the competition, compared to the Olympics, is of a lesser standard. But more than that, viewers missed the quirky sports and specialist commentary we've come to expect.

At least when you're watching the Olympics you know it's probably about to cut to a person who's best in the world at something, or some amusing synchronised swimming, or an unintentionally hilarious, plummy gymkhana commentary on posh people sitting on animals with a hairstyle ("dressage").

Given all the participating countries have been subjected to English rule and bureaucracy at some point, where were the more obscure sports such as butling, fox-hunting, or filing? Without the rivetting or novelty factor, a Commgames viewer's mind was allowed to meander. Here are some random thoughts inspired by the TV coverage.

Why is it that the Australian team uniforms always look Mamboesque (too cool for school) or like a regulation blazer (just too school)? Our athletes, in cack-green blazers trimmed with custard, looked like a bunch of prefects who'd left their schoolbags in the aisle of a Toorak tram.

If I adjust my TV's aspect ratio to wide-screen, will it make those teeny gymnasts look more like they're eating enough for a growing girl and doing something else with their childhood besides training?

With people convulsing and breaking ribs in the Rugby 7, it may be time to reconsider a previous assessment that it's Greco-Roman wrestling with pants and a ball. Actually it's grown men smashing into each other and then trying to run away.

Could somebody please take the tweezers away from the swimmers? There's hardly an eyebrow left between them.

How did pool boundary-rider Nicole Livingstone make it to the frontline of Channel 9 coverage? She was conspicuously warm, professional, informed, Melbournian, female and brunette. It's unfathomable.

Let's hope none of the visitors needed too much in the way hospitals, mental health facilities, child protection programs or post-Yarra dip decontamination during their stay. Sorry, but we've just had to spend $2 billion on some games and Tracy Grimshaw's anti-breeze hairspray, for the outside broadcasts.