http://www.dailytelegraph.com.au/sport/masters-games-an-absolute-joke/story-e6freyar-1225787683901
Masters Games an absolute joke
By Rebecca Wilson From: The Daily Telegraph
Sat Oct 17 00:00:00 EST 2009 Sat Oct 17
LAST Sunday afternoon, I was on a road trip home from Bathurst when we tuned into ABC radio for the latest update on the finish of the big race. [SHE’S REFERRING TO A CAR RACE.kk]
No such luck. Instead, the once great ABC sport provided us with hours of inane coverage from the event they are calling the World Masters Games.
"This is so reminiscent of Sydney 2000,’’ they said. "28,000 athletes from around the world have gathered here to celebrate at the Olympic Stadium. The excitement has started to build.’’
The politically correct amongst us are not game to rubbish any of this.
It is bringing much needed dollars to the crippled NSW economy and, let’s be honest, it is a news photographer’s dream.
Does it come any better than seeing a 70-year-old woman in purple Lycra trying to pole vault half her own height (and miss)? The bloke who looked like Santa Claus provided a News Limited snapper with an award-winning shot.
A 100-year-old woman who says she is a shot putter has had more coverage than a rowing gold medallist at any Olympic Games. That she does not eat vegetables has added fuel to the story and had news reporters clamouring for interviews from the dear old thing.
From the outset, I will confess that I was an entrant in the so-called Masters Games. My turn was going to be in the 45-49 year old discus event.
I was a discus thrower at school, so a bright spark at my radio station suggested it would be a great stunt to take part. No qualifications necessary. Fill out this form and turn up on the day
Thankfully, the radio program was cancelled before I had to don my "Bekistan’’ jersey and throw the stupidthing.
Decathlon great Daley Thompson was asked once if he would compete in a masters because he appeared to be very fit in his 40s.
Thompson replied that these Games were made for people who were really crap athletes when they were young. He is, of course, mostly right.
Serious athletes spend their lives training their guts out to take part in a major event.
Very, very few make it to Olympic level. Those who do deserve to take their place on the international stage as members of an elite to which most of us can only aspire.
It is very, very hard to make it to the Olympics or the Commonwealth Games. Your timing has to be right, your preparation perfect and your fitness level beyond good.
Even events like the University Games (which attract publicity in the classified section of the newspaper) are chock full of great athletes who aspire to higher honours.
But if you retire, power walk twice a day or play in a local netball team, you can take part in the Masters Games and maybe become part of a double page spread in the newspaper each day for two weeks.
You can walk on to the Olympic stadium with an accreditation around your neck and be treated to a first-class opening ceremony from a highly paid Australian singer or entertainer.
Of course, the ambassadors for the Masters are all former great athletes who are still fighting fit.
This merely adds to the myth that all 28,000 masters are somehow athletes.
The same turgid ABC radio show, droning down the line all the way from Bathurst to Sydney, featured an interview with former Olympic great Murray Rose.
Rose was talking the event up before he then confessed that he would not be taking part because of a cataract operation.
Rose says it is all about taking part, making friendships and feeling healthy. This may well be right, but why can’t they take part on their own suburban stage without boring the politically incorrect of us with their pretence?
I know the emails will come thick and fast out of this rant.
How dare I object to these people participating in such a wonderful thing?
I can because I see how little publicity comes to athletes who truly deserve it.
I see males and females who slog their hearts out to win events that never, ever get covered in an Australian newspaper.
Let’s ditch the Australian bloke who won the Hawaiian triathlon and stick an old bloke trying to cross a hurdle in a steeplechase on the front page.
The age limit for the masters is 25. You can actually compete in this fest when you are still quite young.
Very few real athletes of this age take the easy option of a masters to grab bragging rights.
The only ones who do can be found in the pub with the medal around their neck, sucking on a beer.
This event should be called a festival - not a games.
It should not be played on hallowed turf, and it most certainly cannot be classified as an event worthy of anything but a few pars in a suburban newspaper.
