Julia O’Mahony
Staff Writer
On Sunday, the Paralympics came to a close, going out perhaps with even more of a resounding bang than the Olympics themselves; certainly indicative of their success. Though perhaps many would have initially viewed this second series of games as anticlimactic – the younger and less prodigious sibling of the Olympic Games, instead, people found themselves as emotionally invested, if not more, in the Paralympics. Certainly London rose to the challenge of hosting the Olympics – but it is its championing of the Paralympic Games that really highlight its dedication to promoting elite sporting achievements, throughout the summer.
This year, during the first week of the Paralympic games I was among the 82,000 to see Aled Davies win the gold for discus, despite the fact that prior to London 2012, the morning athletics sessions at the Paralympics have often met with largely deserted stadiums – give or take the tumbleweed. This year, with 2.7 million tickets for the Paralympics sold, there was no such danger. The stadium was excited – but not just about Paralympic sport – about discus –BLOODY DISCUS! I never imagined that watching a thickset man hurl a block of metal through the air would leave me with goosebumps, but there I was, on my feet and roaring with the best of them. He did a complete lap of the stadium, wrapped in his flag – and the crowd stayed on its feet, with a slight interlude of booing when Games officials indicated that he might like to stop halfway, and tried to shepherd him off for interviews. Davies was having none of it – and carried on enjoying his moment, much to the delight of the spectators. The fact that Davies had been competing on a false leg had long since been forgotten. Meanwhile, I’d clocked that I was seated just a few rows behind the family of the Australian athlete, Kelly Cartwright, who went on to win the women’s T42 long jump. Their emotions pretty much Mexican Waved over those in the close vicinity, and when Kelly’s mum burst into tears on hearing that her daughter had smashed it, I felt that I was in mild danger of doing the same. There was just so much energy and emotion bouncing around the stadium, however, that I doubt anyone would have even looked twice at me.
The athletes have become household names, and as such have been through the media mill as much as any other sportsperson. We fell in and out and back in love with Pistorius as a combination of his behaviour and indeed sporting merit demanded, and laughed at Team Weir-Wolf in their ridiculous masks as they cheered on their hero. The same zest and mass excitement that had been so quick to take hold of the public during the Olympic games simply did not burn out – with a huge percentage of fans of the games suggesting that the Paralympics were just as good. In the Olympic Park itself, high spirits were thriving, largely owing to the upbeat volunteers; warbling into microphones and high fiving punters. Even before entering the stadium it was clear that the Park demanded a different kind of mindset to that thick fog of social awkwardness that sometimes descends upon Londoners on the tube. I know, everyone keeps banging on about how brilliant the volunteers were, but honestly, they gave the place such a dimension of fun and made it so personable, especially considering the numbers. Interesting to note here then, that the military presence did not impose a more sombre veneer upon the place at all. Both the army and the navy pretty much had the run of the security checks (thanks to the various and now infamous misdemeanors of security firm G4S). However it was far from the usual drab routine that one faces at an airport – there was a lot of good natured joshing going on – and nice to see the military and people engaging with one another, considering that the life of a member of the armed forces is no doubt often felt to be so far removed from that of the average Londoner by both parties.
And what of the Closing Ceremony? Was the Coldplay concert really in order? Regardless of how you feel about Coldplay, the beauty of it was that Chris Martin’s warbles were anthemic when they needed to be, but for the most part ebbed into the background and didn’t overshadow the rest of the spectacle. Certainly, Charles Hazlewood’s leading of the British Paraorchestra was definitely a highlight, and their joining Coldplay for a really beautiful rendition of Strawberry Swing was just brilliant. Sure, wheeling out Rihanna and Jay Z was a tad unprecedented, but if you’re going to bring in the big guns then at least do it for what many will remember as the most impressive ceremony of the games.
The Paralympics. It was a celebration of disabled sporting ability, sure, but far more profound was the basic exposition of humanity at its best – both on the track in terms of sporting excellence, and off it, (I’m thinking especially of those dripping wet volunteers singing ‘Always Look on the Bright Side of Life’ with gusto). Formerly in the shadow of the Olympics, London 2012 has firmly put the Paralympics on the map, and perhaps the greatest testament to this is that English athlete (a certain Johnnie Peacocke) silencing his home crowd of 82,000, just by raising a finger to his lips. Spellbinding.
