‘Triple pike? I could do that’: The lies we tell ourselves during the Olympics

In news that depresses me, but no doubt pleases my physio (and his bank account), I have reached the life stage where injuries occur through no fault of my own. I go to sleep feeling totally fine and, like a thief in the night, comes a crick in the neck or an ache in the back.

At any given moment, I am nursing an array of unexplained and unexpected ailments: tight hamstrings, knee instability, this weird clicking in my jaw when I chew. Sadly, none of these are the result of anything strenuous, like an elaborate gymnastics routine or swimming really far, really fast, but can instead be traced back to one thing: existing.

The Olympics is a quadrennial reminder that most of us are painfully ordinary and will remain that way. Credit: Marija Ercegovac

And yet, despite the fact that I likely would’ve suffered an injury stepping onto the boat for the opening ceremony, the arrival of the Olympic Games has ignited a self-belief that is equal parts determined and delusional.

From the comfort of my couch, I have spent much of the first week indulging in one of Australia’s oldest traditions: comparing myself to professional athletes and judging their efforts.

I have wondered aloud if a triple pike is really that difficult, offered scathing (and unsolicited) feedback to a Chinese gymnast whose flawless routine was undone by a sloppy dismount, and convinced myself that with a bit of training, I could probably win a medal in the canoe slalom.

Insane as this may sound, I am far from alone in this train of thought. Whether rightly or wrongly, the internet is full of painfully ordinary people offering their two cents, a global community of lounge slobs united by four magic words: “I could do that.”

Couch judging has become such a cultural phenomenon that American gymnast Simone Biles, arguably the greatest living Olympian, has already called it out in Paris. “For real, y’all always couch judging and coaching,” Biles posted on social media shortly after winning her, I don’t know, 500th gold medal?

As far as I am concerned, Biles can’t put a foot wrong (an important skill in her line of work), but what she fails to understand is that pretending and gently criticising is how audiences enjoy the Olympics.

Athletes blow us away with their miraculous achievements (and zero per cent body fat), and we all celebrate enthusiastically while secretly harbouring our own ambitions.

Rather than seeing this as a downside, we must embrace it as part of the experience. Let’s not forget that Pierre de Coubertin, the father of the modern Olympics, famously said the most important thing about the Games was “not to win, but to take part”.

OK, maybe I couldn’t do THAT. Simone Biles performs on the vault in Paris.Credit: AP

For those of us whose Olympic dreams have been extinguished, participation comes in two forms: baseless declarations about our unrealised potential and offering commentary in areas in which we have no expertise.

The latter is especially enjoyable, given the best part of the Olympics is stumbling upon a sport you barely knew existed and consuming so much of it that you believe your opinion matters.

Yesterday, I dedicated two hours of my morning to explaining to my wife how the Australian men’s 10-metre synchronised platform diving team might reduce the size of their splash: “You see, the problem is that they’re pushing for an extra half rotation on their back pike 2½ somersault.”

She made the very valid point that if I had to dive 10 metres, an ambulance would need to be on standby, so perhaps I was not best placed to dole out constructive criticism. Sadly, I couldn’t engage in the chat because the women’s 1500-metre freestyle was starting, and I had a few ideas about how Katie Ledecky might improve on her world record time.

The more I watch the Games, the more I fool myself into believing that, if given the chance, I could, at the very least, hold my own in some events.

Track and field is out because I hate running, jumping, hurdling and throwing things. There’s a ping-pong table in the office, so perhaps table tennis is an option (it also speaks to my level of fitness). I can ride a bike, so let’s not discount BMX or cycling.

Ultimately, I need an event that combines my deranged confidence with a skill I already possess: enter race walking. Described by a friend as the sport that determines “who can go slow the fastest”, this speaks precisely to how I see myself as an athlete.

My physio reckons I’m a long shot for Los Angeles 2028, but training for Brisbane 2032 begins today.

Find more of the author’s work here. Email him at [e-mail] or follow him on Instagram at @thomasalexandermitchell and on Twitter @_thmitchell.

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