London 2012: the race to claim the credit

The heats for the final event - claiming the glory - are well under way.

After all those well documented and embarrassing problems with ticketing at every level of the process, we (note, not "they") can scarcely believe our (not "their") luck eh? Even the diabolical summer weather relented and cooperated by reverting to a very typical English August of mostly pleasant with occasional downpours; so conditions for the performers have been benign. And even the G4S cock-up has been turned into a completely random triumph by showcasing the British military giving a gold medal PR performance.

The most relieved man in London

So now the papers are bristling with pictures of the suave Seb Coe, effectively concealing the massive relief he must be feeling having spent 7 years (and a gazillion quid) setting himself (and GB itself) for the biggest high jump of British and International public life since the second world war.

Even if the closing ceremony turns out to be a full-on fiasco (it seems to have all the component parts)  he cleared the bar with ease - but also - it must be noted - with almost limitless finance when  the government was forced to accept that with the eyes of the world on the UK, we could not afford to cock it up.

Lord Coe must now be eternally grateful to Francois Hollande, the French president, who very kindly handed him the absolutely copper bottomed proof that this was indeed a game being played by TeamGB for the highest possible international stakes.

Francois Hollande, French president
posing a picture he might regret

Were he not already French, he would have earned the right to be an honorary Frenchman. But since he is,   President Hollande deserves the légion de déshonneur for his typically waspish and gallic remarks about the British rolling out the carpet for French success - and implying the British would have to rely on the opportunity to associate/hide itself within the EU in order to mask British embarrassment after day one, with its absence of any GB medal.

Apart from the relentless GB "medalling", overall organisation has been immaculate and officials effective and almost invisible. There seem to have been almost no false starts (not surprising in view of draconian the new rules) and very few disputes thanks to clear cut and unambiguous appeals procedures.

The BBC curse has been almost 100% effective. All their poster performers with the exception of Jesccia Ennis have succumbed to the pressures. I do hope that the BBC - technically almost perfect, editorially as flawed as ever - is not allowed to assume too much of the credit for these games. The traditional BBC fixation with bigging up or mostly failed athletes and swimmers has been as embarrassing as ever, but fortunately, the rest of the world probably doesn't know it as they have wisely been using their own commentary teams.

David Rudisha earns his money

The BBC studio interview and roundup sessions with the  exuberant Gabby Logan have been on the money. It's always going to be easier to do a good job of reporting uplifting a parade of triumphs than a litany of depressing disasters.

There have been a couple of track world records for the tiresome BBC athletics commentators to get infeasibly excited about. David Rudisha's majestic 800m final was worth the price of admission, and helped deflect attention from the host nation's own modest performances. But then there was that  uncomfortable win in the women's 1500m by a Turkish athlete who had just served a 2 year ban for drug abuse. A handy reminder that there are always going to be some events where we might as well not bother competing until lifetime drug bans are enforced.

Most GB success (notable exception of track cycling) has emerged from events that the BBC has not "pre-heated". And can you imagine the horror at the BBC when a bloke wielding a shotgun could no longer be safely ignored?

At the time of wring, Tom Daley - who has looked like a haunted man right up to the point he qualified for the 30m platform diving final - might just save the BBC from a deeper enquiry about the obviously unhelpful pressure it has piled on its chosen ones, if he can pull off a win in one of the last events.

Cheer up - it's almost over!

Overall, with two days left, GB has enjoyed its best 2 weeks of mood uplift in its best year in a long time. The Royals played their parts impeccably throughout, although maybe Brenda herself might have been expected to put in an appearance (no need to parachute in, ma'am) at the equestrian events. There were mercifully few politicians on show, and when the Mayor did appear, he managed to raise a smile in his own inimical style of high-wire act.

Can we translate this mood of national unity and euphoria - based on ruthless selection, pure elitism, painful family sacrifices and the determined pursuit of excellence - into economic success? Sadly, a glance at the usual parades of self-serving pygmies in government and opposition in every corner of this nation, suggests the political challenges are going to require a complete rethink of who and how we train and select our so-called political leaders.