Je suis Raygun. So why do I have to ‘knock it off’?

I get that Raygun is upset about the pile-on. She’s fragile amid the criticism and questions. But if you perform on a world stage at elite sporting level to be judged, why can’t we have a crack at that performance?

Why do we have to stay silent about what was clearly a substandard performance on the world stage?

Why do we have to shut up about Raygun?

As the Aussie Olympic team jetted home this morning, our biggest breaking export wasn’t on the plane.

But that’s OK – there was still no shortage of people to speak for Rachael ‘Raygun’ Gunn.

AOC boss Matt Carroll and golden girl Jess Fox defended Raygun as they touched down.

Carroll was disappointed with the fallout from Raygun’s “unique” performance.

“I think it’s just most unnecessary, I don’t understand why some of the broadcasters … decide that mocking an athlete is funny or sensible, I think they should … knock it off, there’s no need for it,” he said.

Raygun goes the full T-Rex. Picture: Getty Images

“People win, people lose … that’s what competition’s about,” he said, adding it was “very sad” that mainstream media had also decided to “have a crack” at her.

I understand Raygun is upset about the pile-on, I understand she’s fragile amid the criticism and questions. But I maintain: Why can’t we have a crack?

Raygun of Team Australia hits the floor – literally – in the Olympic breaking competition. Picture: Getty Images

Why do we have to stay silent about what was clearly a substandard performance on the world stage?

What makes Raygun – who was chosen, right or wrong, to represent her country at the highest level there is – the Olympics, where it’s about competition and performance – exempt from being judged on that performance?

Boxer Harry Garside was devastated when he crashed out of the competition. He made his own judgments on how that happened.

Ray gun continues her floor routine. Picture: Getty Images

This isn’t misogynistic, as chef de mission Anna Meares tried to suggest. It’s simply reaction to performance on the world stage which left the world talking, many giggling and some cringing.

I’ll put my hand up. I laughed like a drain.

Because: “Je suis Raygun”. It’s all fun and games looking like the drunk aunt on the dancefloor at the wedding flailing about like you’ve been shot in the leg … until someone gives you an Olympics berth (half of this may have happened to me).

The reality is our B-girl became a viral sensation after a performance where she scored a zero for her T-Rex, kangaroo and writhing-on-the-floor-like-a-snake moves.

It was natural — it was human — for us to ask: “What the hell am I watching”.

No matter what way you spin it, the performance – which failed to bag a single point – wasn’t up to scratch. The judges knew it. That’s how they scored it.

When our swimmers ‘fail’ we ask why.

When our Olympics team as a whole performs below our expectations, there are post mortems, studies, reviews, recriminations.

Why should Raygun escape scrutiny?

Equatorial Guinea swimmer Eric Moussambani finally touches the end of the pool in his 100m freestyle Sydney Olympic Games heat in 2000.

This is a competition waged at elite level. The contestants wear the pressure and the scrutiny. It’s part of the job description as an Olympian.

Raygun is 36 – an age where most of us know life isn’t about every player winning a prize.

The reality is you don’t get participation awards at the Olympics.

You’re judged on your performance. That’s what happens in elite competition. That often means you get told when you don’t measure up.

Because she stood up in a place alongside athletes who have spent years rising at dawn, day in, day out, to swim endlessly following a black line in the pool.

‘Doing a Bradbury’ slipped into the Australin vernacular after Steven Bradbury’s opportunistic gold medal win for the ages. over

Who have spent hours in gyms, on tracks, on treadmills, with physios, sports psychs, finetuning bodies and minds to give the best performance they possibly can.

I was poolside as a sports reporter at Sydney 2000 Olympics when Eric ‘The Eel” Moussambani almost drowned in a swim heat – cheered every flailing stroke by a crowd who watched him take an age to reach the end of the pool.

I too giggled at Winter Olympics antihero Eddie the Eagle – who made failure his shtick on the slopes.

Eddie “the Eagle” Edwards at the 1988 Calgary Games – flying his way into last place. Twice.

Eric and Eddie fronted the media, took the interviews, were judged by critics and faced the fans. We asked how the heck they’d got there. But I don’t recall anyone telling us to leave Eric or Eddie alone.

Our celebrated speed skater Steven Bradbury may have passed a fleet of fallen foes to take gold – but the difference is his performance in the lead-up was enough to secure him a place in that Olympics final.

If you step onto a world stage, you know there will be scrutiny. The whole point of competition is to be judged.

Neither the athletes themselves, nor their supporters around them, can put that genie back in the bottle when you don’t like the reaction.

Originally published as Je suis Raygun. So why do I have to ‘knock it off’?