Lucy Carne: Brisbane’s 2032 Olympic Games bid is exactly what we need

At a time of drought, bushfires and uncertainty, an injection of Olympic hope is just what the nation ordered. It’s about time we showed off our lovely lady on a global stage, writes Lucy Carne.

It was the moment we had to slam the car to a halt and let a carpet snake cross the road that officially confirmed I was home in Brisbane.

Fresh off the plane from two-and-a-half years in gloomy London, I sat pressed against the dashboard watching this magnificent (and well-fed) creature slide out of a neighbour’s chicken coop as cars patiently banked up.

It struck me again the next day when a shoeless woman walked into the bank. I had not seen a stranger’s bare feet in years and was almost going to ask if she was OK, but no one else seemed to care and I realised with a laugh that I was truly back in Brisneyland.

It is who we are as Brisbanites – unruffled, humble, friendly and funny – that makes us so bloody glorious.

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I was born in Brisbane at the old Mater Hospital and brought home to a little cottage in Paddington with a poinciana out the front, paw paw trees out the back and a choko vine on the fence. I’ve lived most of my life in Brisbane and will hopefully die an old woman in my beloved city watching the sun set behind Mt Coot-tha as whipbirds call for rain.

Powderfinger will need to be playing at all times during the 2032 Olympics if Brisbane wins the bid. Picture: supplied

Like most young Brisbanites, I fled for brighter lights, only to be lured back by the siren song of mangoes, afternoon storms and fried fruit bats hanging from power lines.

I served my time in urban jungles. While I miss New York City’s frenetic energy, London’s soul-stirring history and Sydney’s coastal beauty, it is Brisbane, with her wide sweeping skies and humid, hot hugs, that always has my heart. To quote one of our finest cultural progeny, the Resin Dogs: “Brisvegas, what a city, what a lady”.

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So it makes unquestionable sense that the Queensland Government last week finally endorsed Brisbane’s official bid for the 2032 Summer Olympic Games. It’s about time we showed off our lovely lady on a global stage.

We haven’t had an opportunity to internationally shine since Expo 88. That one event transformed us. I can still remember the infectious excitement. The monorail! The Cadbury pavilion! Synchronised swimming!

Hosting an Olympics – even just bidding for it – doesn’t just bring recognition, it boosts pride in our city and state.

Cathy Freeman lighting the Olympic cauldron during the 2000 Sydney Olympics was a moment we’ll never forget. Picture: supplied

Sure, there is the economic debt, terror fears and potential ghost venues once the Games are complete. There is also the wait. We won’t even know if we win the bid until between 2021 to 2025. But in a time of drought, bushfires and innocent lives being lost, there is no denying an Olympic-sized injection of hope wouldn’t got astray.

I covered the London 2012 Olympics and witnessed its miserable lead up. Friends fled to Europe to escape the chaos, ticket sales were low, anti-aircraft guns sat atop apartment blocks and policemen carried automatic weapons. But worst of all, it rained for almost an entire month.

And then it happened. The Queen and James Bond parachuted out of a helicopter, the sun came out and there was euphoria on the streets. Londoners were actually smiling. There was deep joy for their city.

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We have so much to celebrate: from Oodgeroo Noonuccal’s poetry, Delevene Cockatoo-Collins’ art and the culture of Moreton Bay’s Quandamooka people to the multicultural melting pots of Annerley, Sunnybank and West End.

Agro could compere, Bluey and Bingo would be our mascots and on every medal would be an effigy of Wally Lewis – our King.

An actor dressed as Queen Elizabeth II parachutes into the stadium during the opening ceremony of the London 2012 Olympics. Picture: AFP/Olivier Morin

I want to see Mick Fanning (yeah, I know, I know, but he lives on the Gold Coast) somehow surf into the stadium carrying the torch and punch a shark before lighting the Olympic flame.

The opening ceremony must include an interpretative dance homage to being swooped by magpies, running barefoot on hot cement and picking out bindis.

There needs to be a tribute to Fortitude Valley, from Whiskey Au Go Go and police corruption to the ravers, rockers, goths, folk and hip hop artists that flourished in that musical greenhouse.

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I want to see equestrian in Victoria Park, beach volleyball in King George Square and the swimming in a converted Suncorp Stadium. Have the old Shingle Inn tea ladies serve Kookaburra Cafe’s bacon banana and chilli pizza and Ekka strawberry ice creams. And Powderfinger must play everywhere at all times.

‘Patriotism’ is just the medical word for fancying your country”, Caitlin Moran of The Times wrote. And she’s right. I’m not ashamed to say I have the hots for my hometown and I want the world to know it.

Will we host the 2032 Olympics? Who knows. But just bidding gives us a moment to dare to dream and to declare our deep love for beautiful Brisbane.

What a city, what a lady.

Lucy Carne is editor of Rendezview.com.au

Originally published as Lucy Carne: Brisbane’s 2032 Olympic Games bid is exactly what we need