Damn the motto, watch the fun

By Sheryl-Lee Kerr

slkx@hotmail.com

 

 

IT was the sort of gathering usually reserved for sports legends,

rumors of free food or the swimsuit section of Miss World

competitions. Hooting and hollering reverberated down the corridors.

Quivering fingers pointed at TVs, eyes bulged, jaws thumped on to

desks.

 

I peered up at the screen. I could make out toes. Pointing at the

air, waggling about, sweeping arcs, little pirouettes. All in

superhumanly perfect harmony. And water. And, well, more guffawing.

 

It seems I had arrived in time for the synchronised swimming. Right

at that moment I wondered who’d want to be a synchronised swimmer for

quids?

 

Imagine the party chitchat:

 

“Me? Oh I’m a synchronised swim...hey, it’s not funny. Stop that! Er, no, I have never known anyone to drown.

 

“No, I really haven’t. Hey look - you probably couldn’t hold your breath under water for longer than two minutes so you can’t talk ... no toilet bowls don’t count.

 

“No, my mascara doesn’t run.

 

“Yes, we get more than five people turning up to events - we

actually  have a sizeable following in some places ... yes, men do attend … YES voluntarily.

 

“No, the smiles aren’t painted on the night before.

 

“No, no one has ever inhaled a nose plug. Yes, it is still a sport

even though I have to wear make-up. (Sigh.)

 

 “Look, er, did I say synchronised swimmer? I meant I’m in

 accounting.”

 

Fancy working yourself all the way up to Commonwealth level competition only to be mocked continuously and possibly forced into an illicit life of accountancy.

 

Oh, the humanity ...

 

I sat back for a while and watched our gals doing their silver

medal-winning twirls with more grace in water than I have on land,

figuring, soon enough the blokes’ synchronised swimming event would

begin.

 

For some reason it never did. How odd that men would not want to

proudly partake in a Commonwealth sport. You’d almost think they

didn’t respect it as an event or something. But I’m sure that

wouldn’t be it ...

 

And besides, why would anyone deliberately put a sport

on the Games list that the masses don’t take seriously?

No, that couldn’t  be right.

 

I wondered anew at this lack of general fervor about the upside-down

tog lasses. Then I understood. It’s clearly because the event

doesn’t fit the Olympic motto (which, by default, has unofficially been

adopted at Commonwealth level): Citius Altius Fortius (Higher Faster

Stronger).

 

This incongruity is what is upsetting the public. Obviously.

 

So to fix this problem, might I boldly suggest the motto be altered

slightly to be more in keeping with the times, like “Higher,

Faster, Stronger, Most Synchronised”?

 

Hmm, but start with one controversial sport, then you’ve got to look

at the other. There’s also that whole thing about boxing possibly

not being a real “sport” because the aim is hitting people in the face

a bit until they bleed a lot or fall down. (I guess that means ice

hockey isn’t a sport either.)

 

This being the intent, then boxing, much as I enjoy it (as both

observer and participant), is not adequately covered by the Games

motto, either. Perhaps another rewrite - “Higher, Faster, Stronger,

Most Synchronised, More Pain Inflicted” - would cover that little

discrepency?

 

Now some of the nay sayers out there may be thinking, eyeballs

rolling heavenwards, “Why not just exclude the universally mocked and

violent sports that don’t fit an age-old motto, rather than mess with the

motto?”

 

Well, I do rather think that’s like shutting Yass’s gent’s loo door

after the David Oldfield has bolted. It’s just a wee bit late now to

actually choose sports that we all respect and are in keeping with

the traditional Games motto.

 

So I rather think if we aren’t too worried by choosing sports that

fit the motto then what is left to do but make the motto fit the sports?

 

Curiously, I noted as I left work that day that, for all my

colleagues’ smirks and ridicule, they were still glued to the TV.

And they were watching, as though their very lives depended on it,

swimming pools of waggling feet and waving arms.

 

It’s a funny world.

 

© Sheryl-Lee Kerr & The Advertiser, 19 SEP 1998