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What has happened to me? I used to be as committed to the Commonwealth Games as Brian Taylor is to his moustache, as Robbie Farah is to his own self-esteem.
I used to be the most passionate Commonwealther you could ever find.
When Hayley Lewis swept all before her in Auckland, I roared with approval. When Steve Moneghetti staggered in for gold in Victoria, I bellowed with joy.
When Brad Young wrote his name into the annals of cricket history with a hat trick in Kuala Lumpur, I cartwheeled, delirious with the ecstasy of the true fan.
Yet here we are, in 2014, the Glasgow games are in full swing, and I find myself regarding the games with mild interest at best, casual indifference at worst.
How can this be? Have I lost the taste for blood? Can it really be that I no longer enjoy the visceral thrill of seeing my nation dominate smaller and more inept lands in the sporting arena? Even victories over the English, a perennially satisfying experience in sports and Disney movies alike, lack something of the delicious tang they once had.
I know I’m not alone in this, and disparaging the spectacle of the Commonwealth Games is something of a national sport in itself, but I’m a man who prides himself on never turning down the opportunity to see the Australian cricket team smear Bangladesh across the turf, who revels in watching the Kangaroos make a mockery of the very idea of the Rugby League World Cup, who if anything enjoys watching my beloved Sydney Swans more when they are humiliating the Demons or Saints or Lions.
Remember the many years when we dominated the Ashes to an almost comically absurd extent, and you always heard buzzkills lolloping about sighing deeply and saying stupid things like, “Gee, I wish we could just have a contest this summer”, or even, in the later stages, “I actually want Australia to lose this series”?
Remember that? I was never one of those traitors. Every time the English were sent scurrying home in tears to their therapists, I laughed the laugh of the mighty. And my taste for a thrashing, the last Ashes summer proved to me, has not diminished.
Yet at the Commonwealth Games, victory after crushing green and gold victory is failing to excite. Even now I am watching the gymnastics, and I’m not even cursing the Australian team for only taking out silver. My heart contains not even the idle wish that an opposition gymnast had broken her ankle.
We won two golds in the shooting, apparently, and I’m thinking… “eh”. Will it revitalise the Aussie youngsters’ once-legendary love of gunplay? It might, or it might not – I don’t really care.
And that depresses me. It’s like that day you realise your childhood is over because you’re not looking forward to Christmas anymore; the moment you accept that Flash Gordon is just a movie; the night you wake up in a cold sweat and admit to yourself that you hate your kids.
It’s the death of a dream, the end of a way of life, the termination of everything I thought made me me.
But does it have to be? The Commonwealth Games as it is now is failing to ignite my passions, but surely we can do something about that – surely we can make some relatively minor changes and make the Commonwealth Games a blood-stirring event once again?
For a start, the timeslot has to change. It’s just harder to get excited about events that happen in the middle of the night. I don’t object to the games being held in foreign climes, and Glasgow is a lovely city, but realistically all Commonwealth Games must adopt a schedule based on AEST.
Secondly, let’s get rid of sports which don’t really fit in with the Commonwealth ethos, like track and field. Australians always seem to lose in that, which is a total downer. And really, athletics is an Olympic thing, isn’t it? No point bothering with it here.
The space left in the timetable can then be taken up with good, decent, traditional Commonwealth sports that are truly in the spirit of the games. Like rugby league, surfing, wood-chopping, and pub rock.
Also, we really need to do something about the telecast. So often Ten has flitted between events like a hyperactive four-year-old, but it is time we assumed the role of Alex Dimitriades and gave it a good slap. We need to be able to invest in the events we watch, by having the same game on the screen for more than a couple of minutes at a time.
Also, stop cutting to people sitting on couches. Let them sit on couches on their own time. Also, all the commentators should shout all the time. Also, netball games should be backed with a soundtrack by Led Zeppelin. Also, there should be eels or stingrays or something in the pool to spice it up.
Look, I don’t have all the answers, I just have most of them. But something has to be done, lest I become the canary in the coal mine and millions end up following my lead, regarding our greatest triumphs over mortal enemies like Anguilla and Tuvalu with that death knell for any sporting event: the shrug.