The 'Lympics Log Off

It's always difficult to give a bit of a "Best Games Ever" tag, seeing as they're so different and so rare. It is, though, probably reasonable to say that London's will live long in the memory. Even the cynicism that had dogged the build-up had no effect whatsoever - for our hosts, a collective light went on the night on the Opening Ceremony and burned brightly for the 17 proceeding days.

From Bolt to Phelps, Shiwen to Farah, Rudisha, Hoy and plenty more besides, we saw some very special performances, and very special athletes. Tears, cheers, Kenny Egan's jackets, we could scarcely have asked for more. We'll now talk about legacy, I'm sure. We'll tune into the Paralympics in a few weeks. But for this blog, that's it folks.

London 2012. It's been real. See y'in Rio.

The What-The-Fuck-Am-I-Going-To-Do-Now Blog - Irish at the Olympics: The Final Weekend

In the field of funny names, Arthur Lanigan-O'Keeffe definitely sets a standard. In the field of ridiculous sports, the modern pentathlon is out on its own. Running and swimming - fine. Showjumping? Why? Shooting? Stupid. And Fencing? Really? Why not throw Kabaddi and hot-dog eating in there while we're at it? Either way, the legal firm managed a 25th place finish, his colleague Natalya Coyle (right) achieving an impressive ninth place in the women's event.

Another to be proud of her finish is Olive Loughnane, who came in 13th in the women's 20k walk. The real Irish story in the walking was Rob Heffernan, who just missed out on a medal after finishing fourth. Dee loneliest place in dee world, as we've said before, but a massive personal best and a top 5 finish was well received by the Corkman - as well it should. Another Leesider who enjoyed success is Andrzej Jezierski, who won the B final in the canoeing to finish ninth overall.

Decidedly less triumphant was Mark Kenneally, who finished 57th in the marathon. This is probably as cruel as it gets, as there is little more disheartening than running a full 26 miles only to have some pudgy blogger mocking your finishing position. Sport isn't fair sometimes, though, and Kenneally has to take it. The slow git.

And a reminder that sport isn't fair came in the boxing ring, as the fairytale ending we hoped for was not to be, John Joe Nevin (left) defeated by GB's Luke Campbell in the bantamweight final. Nevin was, to be fair, not at his very best - certainly in comparison to his incredible semi-final performance - and was made to pay by the home fighter. A third round knockdown put an exclamation point on matters, Campbell the victor by a scoreline of 14-11.

Ireland's final medal of the Games was not to be a golden moment, but rather a silver lining.

'Lympic Ladies #19 - Kseniya Vdovina

The law of averages is a tricky thing, especially when it comes to sport. Just because you've had 99 losses in a row does not mean a win is necessarily going to be just around the corner. Just because you're unbeaten in a while doesn't mean defeat is impossible. And just because you figure one in four blonde Russians might be lookers, it's no guarantee. This time, however, the law of averages holds strong.

The delectable Kseniya Vdovina - as well as being a heck of a Scrabble score - is a member of the Russian 4x400m relay team. Sure, she's not exactly the biggest star in athletics (or even her team) but since when does that matter? She is five-and-a-half feet of Siberian loveliness, and doesn't mind sitting in front of a lens to show it off, either.

The Russians qualified for the final tonight. Vdovina didn't even have to participate herself. That's just fucking typical, isn't it? Hot chicks just get life handed to them on a plate...

The Christ-We're-Getting-Greedy-Now Blog - Irish at the Olympics: Day 14

After Katie Taylor's heroics on Thursday - as well as Cian O'Connor's bronze Wednesday, and the medals guaranteed in the ring since Sunday - the air of pessimism and acceptance of mediocrity that defined the early stages of these Games was well and truly banished, replaced by hopes, nay, expectations, of success.

Though Andrzej Jezierski (right) - one of the Jezierskis of the Booreenmanna Road, no doubt - is a former world champion, his best days are most likely behind him, and his hopes of reaching the final of the Men's C1 was ended in Eton Dorney with a 4th place finish in his semi final. The best part of 10 hours later, the 4x400 women were on dry land, but no more successful, the team of Marian Heffernan, Joanne Cuddihy, Jessie Barr and Michelle Carey finishing well behind the pace, sixth in their heat.

So, it was the boxing ring that once again held the hopes of the nation, and John Joe Nevin (left) didn't disappoint. Quick, slick, and basing his fight around a truly phenomenal right hand, a superb performance against the reigning world champion Lazaro Alvarez Estrada saw Nevin progress to tomorrow's final. The Cuban southpaw had absolutely no answer to the clever approach adopted by the Mullingar man, who triumphed by a score of 19-14. He will now face the man who beat him in last years Worlds, Team GB's Luke Campbell, in what should be a cracking final.

It was a much needed win too, after the heartbreak just a few minutes before Nevin took the ring. Paddy Barnes, a bronze medallist from Beijing, will have another bronze to add to his collection, though it could so easily have been more. Against the formidable Zou Shiming, Barnes fought like a lion, tying the fight 15-15 on the scorecards, before a countback separated the fighters by one solitary point, 45-44. Barnes found out the hard way that one of life's golden rules continues to ring true - you always end up with a little more Chinese than you can manage.

And after a few hours to catch our breaths, in came Barnes' roommate, Michael Conlon (right), to attempt to join Nevin as a finalist. Against another Cuban southpaw, Robeisy Ramirez, Conlon was probably hard-done by in trailing by 4 points after the opening two sessions. In a despairing final round, Conlon turned his back and was made to pay, a standing count the final nail in the coffin as his journey ended with a 20-10 defeat. To say Conlon's bronze was a disappointment seems insane, but that tells you something about both Conlon, and the success of our nation in the squared circle.

Nevin carries the flag tomorrow. 3 Olympic medallists will watch from the outside - the gold of Taylor a glinting reminder of what is at stake.

It Was The Best Of Times, It Was The Blurst Of Times

Heartbreak for Barnes, Joy for Nevin

It may not be Baltimore, gentlemen, but the Gods will not save you. Sport, and the Olympics, might throw up a few great stories every once in a while, but there is no sentiment, no predetermined fairytales. Fate is nothing but a mirage, destiny an American volleyball player.

The boxing ring is an unforgiving stage; a roped-in venue for the bravest of athletes, the captive combatants that know they will step out triumphant in victory or crushed in defeat. In a reminder of the wild, emotional and unpredictable nature of sport, we experienced both within 25 minutes.

Paddy Barnes (right) picked up a bronze medal in Beijing, and immediately announced that "bronze is for losers". He came around a little since, granted, but it is still a reflection of the sort of spirit and mentality required to reach these levels of sport. Four years ago, he was beaten 15-0. In London, he was barely even beaten. 15-15 after three rounds against his former conqueror Zou Shiming, a countback of 45-44 was in favour of the Chinese fighter and Irish hearts were broken.

In truth, Barnes' performance against the World and Olympic champion may have been the best Irish performance of the Games, even taking into account the Golden Girl who triumphed yesterday. Bustling and busy, he banged to the body and head, but struggled - as everyone does - with Zou's reach and slickness. Barnes made the fight, and was magnanimous in defeat. Inconsolable, of course, but he has matured along with his skills in the past four years. Ireland's first medallist in consecutive Olympics deserves all the plaudits he will receive.

I, frankly, felt as though I'd taken a few of those Barnes body shots - sickened, I was. But if we needed cheering up, we didn't have to wait long. Mullingar's John Joe Nevin (left) - a teammate of Barnes in Beijing - became the second Irish fighter to grab a final berth with a fabulous win over reigning World Champion Lazaro Alvarez Estrada. A 19-14 victory was the very least Nevin deserved, as he peppered the Cuban with right hands throughout the bout. His performance was truly outstanding, though he will need to pull another big one out of the bag tomorrow night -he will meet home fighter Luke Campbell in the final. Campbell was victorious the last time they met, but if Nevin produces more of what we saw today, another Irish gold is a more-than-distinct possibility.

'Lympic Ladies #18 - Romy Tarangul

I was, it is reasonable to say, rather critical of judo earlier in these Games. I stand by it, too; a pair of mildly irked folk in bathrobes pulling and tugging at one another does not constitute a sport for me. I may, however, reconsider my opposition to watching the sport if one particular woman is playing: the delectable Romy Tarangul.

Romy isn't quite a beastly fighting machine - in fact, she competes in one of the lightest weight categories and stands a petite 5'3. She is also, it should be pointed out, absolutely gorgeous, to the point that she posed for German Playboy a few years ago. I know, you figure the Germans aren't exactly the most fun in the world, and you might well be right, but if there's one thing that the foreign film section of the library has taught me it's that the Germans know sex.

As in the traditional Playboy way, the pics are nude. In my traditional ham-fisted Luddite way, I can't figure out how to have one of those 'click here for more' jobbies, and I know some of you will be reading this at work. So I've gone to the trouble of drawing underwear on her. If you're not happy, I'm sure you can navigate your way to google images and help yourself.

The Deirdre-Ryan-Tribute Blog - Irish at the Olympics: Day 13

Joey Fatone. George Lazenby. This chick. There is something pretty difficult about being 'the other one', knowing that no matter what you do, everyone's attention is elsewhere. So tonight, I would like to pay respect to the lovely Deirdre Ryan.

As well as being a fine athlete, Deirdre is actually a fine looking girl; probably the only company for Melanie Nocher and Tori Pena in the small group of Irish Olympians you would actually invite round to watch The Notebook and share a bottle of 'Neuf du Plonk. This, however, makes no impact whatsoever on the fact that today was never about Deirdre Ryan - she can be tall, and pretty, and talented, and all the rest, but she wasn't Katie Taylor, and that's all that mattered.

So, it was never going to be Deirdre's day. It got worse, granted, when she failed to clear 1.90m and found herself eliminated from the heats of the high jump in the Olympic Stadium this morning, but if it's any consolation, no one really noticed. The 30-year-old has a personal best of 1.95; she would have needed there or thereabouts to make the final.

There was only ever going be eyes on the ExCel this afternoon, though. Years of build-up and expectation finally came to an end as Katie Taylor took to the ring in an Olympic final. There's no point in dissecting the fight - it's already been done to death on TV, radio, twitter, crop circles, smoke signals and any other form of communication one can think of. Suffice to say that the two-point margin was the tightest victory Taylor has had in a major championship in a while, and the fight was close enough to keep breaths well and truly baited until the decision was announced. But Katie was not to be denied, the 10-8 win over Sofya Ochigava sending the ludicrously Irish crowd into raptures, and delivering Ireland's first legitimate glory in 20 years. Yes, I'm being controversial. Deal with it.

The men have their opportunity to make their finals tomorrow - what is already Ireland's best Olympics in years could soon be a record-shattering success. But that's for another day. Today is a day for glory, a day for champions: A day for Katie Taylor.

Oh, and Deirdre Ryan.

'Lympic Legends #7 - McKayla Maroney

Ardent readers of this blog will already be well aware of my love of a funny name, and therefore assume that's the reason for the inclusion of a girl named McKayla. However, I haven't yet revealed another of my loves in life - bitches.

And I don't mean that in a hiphop, urban, another-word-for-women way. I mean that I love catty, sarky, hard-nosed bitchy little balls of hate. There's nothing funnier than girls making sniping comments over each others hair, or two women gossiping about someone's boob job. Seriously cracks me up. And when it comes to being Queen Bitch of the Olympics, there is no competition. McKayla Moroney is in a league of her own.

I mean, look at that face. If you could bottle apathy, throw in a dash of hate and sprinkle it all over a look of pure vindictive judgement, you get what's pictured left. This was McKayla's reaction to her silver medal in the vault the other day, when a bad mistake resulted in her landing on her hoop and her hopes of gold disappearing quicker than her smile. Pure, unadulterated bitchface.

She was beaten to the gold by Sandra Izbasa - McKayla presumably found out when she reached the podium, as she refused to watch the Romanian perform (right). Her coach, the crowd, no-one could penetrate the wall of bitch. But the true lesson in bitchiness was reserved for the Russian gymnast who finished third.

Maria Paseka is clearly not the sharpest tool in the shed, and is woefully unable to read faces. Or body language. Maroney might as well have had "FUCK OFF stitched across her leotard, yet Paseka somehow decided this was the perfect time to go in for a hug. Maroney's reaction is possibly my favourite moment of the entire Olympics so far.

Back. The. Fuck. Up.

Bitch.

Punching Like A Girl

In August 2009, the International Olympic Committee's Executive Board announced the inclusion of women's boxing for the London 2012 Games. A side story for most, it is fair to say. But in Ireland, the countdown began. The years turned to months, the months to days, and the days to four two-minute sessions on a Thursday afternoon, until the preeminent pugilist in the female game was finally crowned. Katie Taylor, Olympic champion.

At this point, I must disclose perhaps the most controversial opinion since my preference of sparkling water to its still counterpart: I'm not sure I really like Katie Taylor. I find her religious convictions preachy and proselytizing, her personality bland and standoffish, and her voice strips the enamel from my teeth. But none of that matters. Just give her the gloves and a yard of canvas. The girl is a phenomenon.

I've already written on her achievements thus far and her standing in the pantheon of Irish sporting greats. That was two weeks ago. What we have seen in the past four days is little short of a revolution. The thought of Ireland grinding to a halt to watch Taylor would have seemed crazy a short while ago - this is the same Taylor whose World Championships triumphs were not even broadcast on television in this country. We now stand a nation mesmerized, a nation united, a nation inspired.

When women's pole vault was introduced in 2000, it was Yelena Isinbayeva (left) who became the flag bearer for the discipline, the athlete to transcend the peripheral sport in which she competed to catapult it into the global spotlight. A 24 year old from Bray has done that for women's boxing. If this was the last time we see her in a ring, then it was a fitting way to bow out. But you'd better believe this isn't the end. The actions of the greats will endure - the achievements of Katie Taylor will reach far beyond today.

'Lympic Ladies #17 - Lauren Sesselmann

Evaluating Canada's contibution to mankind can be difficult to evaluate. For every Pamela Anderson there's a Bryan Adams, for every ice-hockey a CFL. But there should be little enough argument about the quality of one of the finest exports to this Olympics - the beautiful Lauren Sesselmann.

Except there is. Lauren was actually born in the USA, and so is about as Canadian as Uncle Sam or rampant obesity. That doesn't stop Canada from claiming her as their own, though that didn't really workout well for our Lauren - her home country eliminated her adopted country at the semi-final stage on Monday evening.

The winner in that game was actually scored by previous 'Lympic Lady Alex Morgan. Speculation around 'Lympics Log HQ was that her appearance on the site just 24 hours previously inspired the win. Perhaps Sesselmann's quest for glory at Rio 2016 starts here...

The I-Knew-We-Were-Going-To-Come-Good-Sometime Blog - Irish at the Olympics: Day 12

Rowdy Roddy Piper used to say, "Just when you think you know the answers, I change the questions". Well, just when we thought we knew the narrative, the strange world of sport changes the line-up, the sport, the venue, the gender and the script. Katie Taylor's moment as the first Irish athlete on a podium was not to be; instead, it was a familiar Olympic competitor to grab hold of the first medal of the game.

Cian O'Connor (left, on his horse Blue Loyd) crashed out of the showjumping two days ago. He was made first reserve, but so what? As anyone who has stood forlornly at the side of the stage through their fourth class production of Grease will know, after trying vainly to dry the tears of disappointment on the sleeve of a patent leather jacket which your mum had spent all night altering, watching that dickhead Patrick Casey dancing with the prettiest girl in the school taught you at an early age that first reserve means nothing. However, O'Connor clearly has more luck than me anyone that happened to and, after a vet ruled Goran Bengtsson unable to compete, found himself handed a golden ticket to the final.

The opportunity was grabbed with both hands, the only blemish on his card a 0.02 second time violation in his second clear round of the day. That saw him go to a jump-off with Gerco Schroder of Holland, and with the silver within sight, Cian's mount Blue Loyd clipped the final fence. Still, a bronze medal is utterly unexpected - frankly, his place in the final was unexpected, even his participation in London was unexpected. It is another twist in the fascinating story of the Kildare rider - who would bet against a few more turns along the way?

Katie Taylor, of course, was the focus of attention today, and as usual the Bray girl failed to disappoint. A convincing victory over Mavzuna Chorieva sealed her spot in tomorrow's gold medal bout, where she will face old foe Sofya Ochigava. Today's opponent employed a strange tactic of showboating, which would have been more convincing if she wasn't getting seven shades of shite knocked out of her. Taylor remained non-plussed, and her march towards glory continued.

Yet another medal can be confirmed in just over an hours time, as Paddy Barnes takes to the ring in his quarter-final. Should he win through, it would make this the most successful Irish campaign in 56 years. And to think there were people moaning about how disappointing everything was a week or so ago? You should all be ashamed of yourselves.

Neighver Say Neighver Again - The Incredible Story of Cian O'Connor

Even amongst the excitement in the boxing ring, the bronze medal of Cian O'Connor might be an enduring story from these Games. He is a controversial figure in Ireland's already eventful sporting history, but if nothing else it adds another chapter to what was already a rather remarkable story.

2004 was a pretty abject Olympics for the Irish. Sonia retired, Lee upset in the early stages, it seemed as though we were destined to finish with nothing to show. Step forward Waterford Crystal. For years the country had taken pride in the glassware of the same name; now it was a horse with the famous moniker that captured the nation's hearts. A gold medal in the showjumping was celebrated across the land, and O'Connor was hailed as a hero, the saviour of a campaign destined for failure.

Of course, it was not quite as it seemed. Just like the last time we had tasted victory, the issue of drugs was to rear its ugly head. The horse tested positive for fluphenazine and zuclopenthixol, a pair of human sedatives that were not performance enhancing, but also not licensed for equine use. Then, it all went a bit CSI, as documents and samples were stolen, including those of ABC Landliebe, another O'Connor mount. The gold was stripped, the rider banned, and his national image destroyed to the point that he hired 24 hour security after receiving death threats.

4 years later, the reputation of showjumping in Ireland took another massive hit, as Denis Lynch and his horse Lantinus were withdrawn on the eve of the Olympics due to another drug scandal. Cynicism and scepticism were now the name of the game within the sport. Even team selections were a point of concern, O'Connor himself unsure of his Olympic participation in London until the 11th hour.

And then, if it were possible, it all got more dramatic. O'Connor was eliminated from proceedings in the qualifying rounds, only for the Irishman (serving as first standby) to be reinstated after another horse was ruled unfit to compete. And of course, in a story this convoluted, it was only ever going to end with a medal. It came in a jump-off, decided by knocking the very last fence. Indeed, it could have been gold had it not been for a time penalty after exceeding the limit by 0.02 seconds.

The prospect of O'Connor returning to quite the reception that greeted him after Athens seems unlikely. He'll be welcomed into every publishing house, scriptwriter's office and movie studio on the planet, though. Cliff Morgan put it better than I ever could:

If the greatest writer of the written word would have written that story, no-one would have believed it.

High Performance, High Results - The Methods Behind the Sweet Science

For any Irish heading abroad for a holiday next week, they are in store for a surprise. Gone will be the casual indifference towards visitors, replaced with a deference heretofore not experienced by tourists anywhere. Doors will be held open, apologies offered for even the most minor of indiscretions and a reverential hush shall descend upon entering rooms. And why? Because whether male or female, big or small, from Bray, Belfast or anywhere in between, the assumption is going to be that the Irish could punch your fucking face in.

The success of our nation in the ring is no miracle or coincidence. It isn't even just the individuals involved - sure, they are pretty remarkable in their own right, but the core of Ireland's success is the extraordinary achievements of the Irish Amateur Boxing Association's High Performance Unit.

The goal of the High Performance programme is simple - to allow amateur athletes to train as professionals. Any numpty can tell you that working 9-5 might be a way to make a living, but it's a million miles away from the perfect preparation for international competition. Instead, the elite Irish boxers train twice a day in the National Stadium's gym in Dublin. And before you go all Rocky-montage in your head, let me tell you - it ain't no ordinary gym.

A bright and airy facility, with more equipment to shake a stick at, the finest fighters in the land hone their skills under the watchful eye of a superb coaching staff, including head coach Billy Walsh (right of shot) and Georgian expert Zuar Antia (pictured on left of shot with medal hopeful Paddy Barnes). Along with the wealth of ring experts are performance psychologists, nutritionists, strength and conditioning coaches, the lot. Even the paint on the wall is carefully considered - blue at the weights for focus and clarity, red and yellow around the ring for dynamism and explosiveness. The technology, the measurements: there is not a stone - physical, psychological or emotional - left unturned in preparing the Irish representatives to take on the world.

This is the level of detail required to excel at the top level - nothing less. Sure, there will be plenty said of the traditions of fighting in this country, but even with boxing contributing a huge portion of Ireland's medal haul it was never quite something we dominated. Nine medals were won in the 107 years prior to the inception of the High Performance programme; at least 6 will have come in the nine years since. Credit too, will also go to the expansive grass-roots system which is similarly supported by the National Lottery, the Irish Sports Council and plenty more besides. But the pursuit of excellence is a task only for the best.

It is no fluke that Barcelona and Spain have dominated the world of soccer with Messi, Iniesta, Xavi and other products of La Masia. The British era of track cycling has been masterminded by performance director Dave Brailsford who, since joining in 2000, has led the nation to the top of the sport. As the Irish climb to the peak of the boxing world, it is worth remembering how they got there. Michael Conlon (right) and the rest might be the ones taking the punches, but those in the background deserve the plaudits too.

'Lympic Ladies #16 - Catalina Ponor

A female gymnast sounds like every man's dream, but it's never that simple. When they try telling us that this chick is 20, you have to question everything. If all is right, though, and everything goes just as it should, you get the equivalent of a baseball player who can hit, slug, run, throw and catch. And Catalina Ponor has the 5 tools of female gymnastics - pretty, actually has breasts, can bend any which way, seems to be game for lying around in states of undress and does not constitute a statutory charge.

24 years old doesn't exactly sound old, but in the weird world of gymnastics is fucking ancient, which is why the Romanian is actually back for the second chapter of her career, having retired in 2007 at the grand old age of 20. A pocket rocket at just 5'3, she isn't just a pretty face, having won 3 golds at the Athens Games. But she is a pretty face aswell, don't worry. And a hot body. 

Her balance beam competition in London this afternoon ended in heartbreak, an appeal by the USA's Aly Raisman relegating her to 4th spot; Raisman then added insult to injury by pipping her to the gold on the floor. Hopefully for Catalina, being immortalised as a 'Lympic Lady will help to soften the blow.

The This-Is-Slowly-Turning-Into-A-Boxing-Column Blog - Irish at the Olympics: Day 11

The sport of boxing has its detractors, and indeed a sizeable opposition who believe it to be morally wrong. This isn't the place for the debate - though if anyone wants to bring it up in the comments, I will systematically humiliate them. In any case, one wouldn't expect anyone in Ireland would take an anti-boxing stance right now. Tonight, Michael Conlon (left, with new BFF Novak Djokovic) has an opportunity to seal a medal for himself in a quarter final against Nordine Oubaali of France. It is also an opportunity to put a silver lining on today, as it's been a big dirty cloud for the nation thus far.

Paul Hession was below his best in crashing out in the heats of the men's 200m, while even a personal best for Fionnuala Britton was a long way off the time required for a spot in the final of the women's 5000m. Derval O'Rourke, meanwhile, was eliminated from the 100m hurdles after finishing 5th in her semi just a few minutes ago, another 12.91 performance for the Cork woman.

The disappointment continued off dry land, as Ger Owens and Scott Flanigan concluded their spirited efforts at disproving global warming by proving that things can still move at glacial speed. That is, thankfully, the last time we will see them in action and their relatives and friends will be hoping that they treat themselves to a plane journey home rather than sailing back, as it's always nice to spend Christmas with family.

The biggest achievement from an Irish perspective came in the triathlon, as Gavin Noble (right) made a mockery of his world ranking of 44th to finish 21 places higher in the field. To say the success story of the day came in the shape of a 23rd place sounds like clutching at straws, but straw-clutching is sort of the name of the game by now.

Straw-clutching and face-punching, then, from here on out. I'll cover the former - let's hope over the next 24 hours Conlon, Barnes and Taylor can excel at the latter.

Michael Phelps and The Pursuit of Greatestness

One of my favourite websites to liven up a room is The Most Awesomest Thing Ever, one of the most fabulous time-wasters you'll ever find. What's more awesome: James Gandolfini or pillows? Your email spam folder or the theory of relativity? The joke, of course, is that you can't compare these things. It's ludicrous, mindless, utterly stupid. That's the point. You get rat-arsed drunk, loudly argue whether Teletubbies are more awesome than the Doppler Effect, and then forget about it.

Michael Phelps or Larisa Latynina (pictured right)? A 6'4 superstar of world sport or a diminuitive 77 year old who last stepped on a gymnastics floor in 1966? Ridiculous, right? Apples and oranges? Er, no. Somehow, public discourse has actually determined that it is not only a reasonable question, but is actually an important debate that should rage across the planet. Sometimes, folks, the public are fucking idiots.

Listen, don't get me wrong: I love a good sporting debate as much - and probably more - than the next person. Disagreement, opinion and conjecture are what makes following sport a thrilling experience, and provides as much (if not more) entertainment than the action itself. But for goodness sake, as in any debate a line has to be drawn somewhere, and the line is definitively drawn when arguments get as downright stupid as this one has.

The clamour to brand Phelps (left), with his 18 gold medals, as The Greatest Olympian In History has been matched only by the efforts of the other side to dispute the claim. People have been tying themselves in knots trying to evaluate the Bawlmorese swimmer's achievements in the greater scheme of things. And my, has there been a load of shite talked in the process.

Oh, you can win loads of golds in swimming! Yes, but you can do that in gymnastics, in athletics, in cycling, all sorts of sports. The fact that there's lots of events in his chosen sport has literally nothing to do with Phelps as the greatest Olympian of all time, in the same way that the fact that Latynina had six events open to her at Games counts for nothing either. It is about achievement in a chosen field, and is evaluated as such. Any comparisons are not only absurd, they're also impossible.

But what about Bolt?! Well, indeed, he's very very good too. He is currently dominating the track like Phelps has dominated the pool. They have both excelled, but why on earth do we feel this daft requirement to lump every individual ever partaking in an Olympics into a giant drum together and rate them? This is sport, not science. We don't need a grading system. Comparing Phelps to Latynina, or to Bolt, or to Stevenson, Fischer, Lewis, Ainslie, Owens, Redgrave, Nurmi, or any other athlete from any other sport in any other era makes as much sense as an LFO song.

There will never be a "Greatest Of All Time", despite what Maurice Greene would have wanted. Stars will rise and fall, records will be set and broken, and just when you think you've seen everything there is to see, something else will come along. Don't even try to understand it all, to compare and contrast, to pretend like we can even comprehend the wonder of the Olympics. Just sit back and enjoy.

'Lympic Ladies #15 - Camilla Herrem

One of the surprise hits of the Games at 'Lympics Log HQ has been the handball. Prior to last week, it had always been sullied by its reputation as that-thing-you-did-in-PE-class-if-it-was-raining-out, but just one night of screaming at Montenegro -vs- Great Britain and we were hooked. And then we threw on a spot of the Norwegian women, and it got even better.

Scandanavians, like cheerleaders or firemen, don't seem to need to be particularly good-looking to look good. In the genetic lottery, our friends to the North won the jackpot. But Camilla Herrem doesn't just have luck on her side: she's straight up ridiculous looking. Part of a team not without their charms, the leggy Herrem - whether blonde or brunette - is bringing the heat in a major way.

Camilla and friends will be in action tomorrow morning against Brazil. If you weren't planning on tuning in, you would be well advised to reconsider; turns out handball isn't just water-polo for people who can't swim.

The Sisters-Are-Doing-It-For-Themselves Blog - Irish at the Olympics: Day 10

Today was circled on the calendars a long time ago, marked out as the day Ireland would send a woman into action to seal victory for the nation. Little did we know that just an hour before the action in the ExCel, we would be getting our sea-legs, watching another female competitor battling to be crowned Olympic champion.

Alas, it was simply not to be. Annalise Murphy (left) captured hearts and minds with her opening four victories; after the ten races were completed, she was, for all intents and purposes, in a four-way tie at the top. An outstanding achievement in itself, but anyone familiar with Irish sporting success (or the lack thereof) could probably see where this one was going. After leading through the first marker, Annalise had the agony of watching her three rivals beat her to the line, and her hopes of an Olympic medal slipped away. She can hold her head high after an outstanding regatta, but that will be of little consolation for now; as Eamonn Coughlan famously said, fourth really is "dee loooonliest place in dee world".

And so, to the squared circle. Spirits were high in Irish boxing circles after John Joe Nevin sealed Ireland's first medal last night, but that was, frankly, just an appetiser. There are no sure things in sport, but Katie Taylor (right), Ireland's four-time reigning, defending World Champion is - in the eyes of many - as close as they come. But in typical Irish fashion, we began to get just a little nervous as her time drew near. Was Natasha Jonas better than we'd anticipated? Would the home advantage for the GB fighter lead to another dodgy call? Was Katie's dream going to be over before it even began?

The answers: no, no, and hell no. The Bray boxer made sure there wasn't a judge in the world that could see it as anything other than an Irish victory by battering the Scouser from pillar to post, winning every round, forcing two standing counts, and looking every inch the world beater we know her to be. With a 26-15 win, a medal is now guaranteed; for Taylor, and for Ireland, it's only the beginning.

Also making her first appearance of the Games was Derval O'Rourke (left), the darling of Irish track and field. She missed out on automatic qualification, but her season best time of 12.91 enough to see her through to tomorrow's semi-finals. She would need an incredible improvement to make the final, but qualification from the heats was the main priority - job done.

Sure, the men were there too - Ryan Seaton and Matt McGovern eliminated from the 49er class, Ger Owens and Scott Flanigan ruled out of contention in the 470. Cian O Connor missed out on the final of the showjumping, and Derek Burnett's finish of 27th was way below the standard required to make the closing stages of the trap shooting. Not a day for y chromosomes, then.

The men, to be fair, have been well looked after round here. Today, it was all about the ladies.

'Lympic Legends #6 - Fatso The Fat-Arsed Wombat

I have to admit that, in my complete and utter focus on the competitive action over the past 9 days, I managed to miss the presence of the horrific mascots of the London Games, the phallic figures of Wenlock and Mandeville (left). What exactly prompts an organising committee to nominate a pair of 8 foot tall one-eyed monsters as the official mascots of the games, I don't know. But at least it reminded me of one of the greatest mascot stories of all time.


Sydney 2000 saw a platypus, a kookaburra and an anteater symbolise the event; the response was less than enthusiastic. Syd, Ollie and Millie - or Syd Ollie and Dickhead as they were referred to - were roundly disparaged, until Australian sports comedy show The Dream decided to provide an alternative. That alternative was Fatso The Fat-Arsed Wombat.

The concept was nothing if not simple: a wombat with a comically oversized posterior was the perfect antidote to the official mascots. The reaction of the public was extraordinary - Fatso became far more popular than the incumbents. The craze reached its peak when Australian swimmers including Susie O'Neill and Michael Klim carried teddies of Fatso onto the podium after winning gold medals. Asked of his unofficial protest, Klim insisted, "I didn't understand the
significance, I just
thought it was a wombat...
yeah, with a big arse".

"The Battlers' Prince" is now immortalised in statue form outside the Olympic Stadium. His place in history - as well as his place in our hearts - is secure. Now, he joins the hallowed halls of 'Lympic Legends.

'Lympic Ladies #14 - Alex Morgan

Having already featured the keeper, it seems only reasonable to look towards the other end of the field to see what the US women's Sawker team have to offer. And, true to form, it's not a letdown. Because leading the line for Team USA is star player, prolific goalscorer and serious smoke Alex Morgan.

Morgan is one of the bigger deals in women's soccer, though in fairness that's not necessarily going to arouse interest - or anything else for that matter. No, the All American girl-next-door has her looks to draw all the attention she will ever want or need - a smile that could melt a stone heart, and an arse that could melt butter.

The 23 year old Cali girl is actually a club teammate of Hope Solo at the Seattle Sounders - God, to be a fly on the wall of that dressing room...