For those of you who returned serve after my Australian Open comments last week, it seems I might need to stretch to nail the point I was trying to make about being  “ova” it.

Having gone on to suggest that, “without putting too fine a point on it, I simply can’t relate to many of the ‘big names’’’ (most notably, in the women’s draw), I’d rather thought the reasons were fairly self-evident.

Not so, apparently, for some.

So here we go … Pliskova, Amanmuradova, Hlavackova, Gavrilova, Pavlyuchenkova, Kuznetsova, Rybarikova, Shvedova, Gajdosova, Cepelova, Petrova, Panova, Safarova, Kvitova, Govortsova, Pliskova, Pironkova, Hantuchova, Makarova, Cibulkova, Bratchikova, Zakopalova, Puchkova, Sharapova.

Now you get my drift?

Phew! Pleased we’ve got that sorted.

Speaking of “big” names, it was a “small” one – and an Aussie one, too – which seemed to cause a bit of angst for Sportsword buffs tackling my latest (Oz Open-flavoured) offering in Brisbane’s Sunday Mail.

The clue in question related to one John Marks, an unheralded Sydneysider whose career highlight was reaching the 1978 Australian Open men’s singles final – where he bowed to Argentine dual champion Guillermo Vilas (he backed up the following year).

I guess I was “dating” myself somewhat by throwing that clue in in the first place (one Sportsword tragic declared: “I think that would have even tested Dad!’’)

But significantly more sobering was the realisation that, Lleyton Hewitt, Pat Cash and journeyman Kim Warwick (1980) aside, Marks is the next most recent “home-grown” Aussie Open men’s singles finalist we’ve had.

What price Tomic in 2015?

And, come to think of it, why isn’t his li’l sister Tomicova?

 — Peter Thomson 

There was a time – admittedly, quite a few moons ago – when Australian Open tennis action was compulsive television viewing for me. But, with all due respect to our east European friends, I think I’m pretty much “ova” it.

What ensured my sustained interest back then – indeed, compelled me to spend countless hours in front of the TV — was the fact that I was more than familiar with 90 per cent of the players going round.

Sadly, I can’t say the same today. Truth is, most notably on the women’s side – and without putting too fine a point on it — I simply can’t relate to many of the game’s “big names”.

On reflection, what also helped sustain my interest back then was the fact that I was still active in the game myself – playing regular fixtures after reviving a ‘‘career’’ in which I’d scaled dizzy heights by winning a club junior singles title in my native NZ before weekend newspaper work effectively killed any other modest sporting ambitions I might have had.

[A confession: For quite some years, I dined out on the fact that I’d beaten a subsequent Australian Open men’s singles finalist (lanky Kiwi Onny Parun, who bowed to John Newcombe in four sets in 1973) … before conceding I’d actually achieved the feat on a golf course.]

I digress.

Diminished interest notwithstanding, I, like any self-respecting sports lover, will be firmly glued to the “box” when the big guns are battling it out at the business end. But I certainly don’t intend to be riding almost every point for the next fortnight. Those days are long gone.

 — Peter Thomson

All I want for Christmas … no, come to think of it, it’s too big an ask. Having churned out, conservatively, close on 2000 sports crosswords in my time,  I’m big enough — and, as the mug shot with this blog attests, ugly enough — to accept that I’m rarely going to get feedback that’s totally positive.

It generally comes with a sting in the tail – like “enjoy doing your crossword each week, but shouldn’t 6 across have been … blah blah.” (Yes, OK, that’s one of the more mild examples).

But, hey, whatever the motivation, it’s always great to get your thoughts – whether they be on my crosswords, YT’s tips, our blogs, whatever. And more so now that we’re starting to review our first year of operation and looking at ways and means of sprucing things up for 2013.

Just on the crosswords, though. To the odd nark out there, I’d simply remind you it’s “Peter Thomson’s Sportsword”, not the Pope’s, so I’m afraid there’s always going to be the odd cock-up (and, anyway, you wouldn’t want them full of Italian soccer clues, would you?)

As for our plans for next year, we’d frankly welcome any suggestions that might help shape them. But “engaging” more with our regulars is certainly one of them and, to that end, we intend making our free subscription a basic requirement. Also, for those into “social media”, we’re keen to embrace Facebook and Twitter (haven’t linked them to the website yet, but “Peter Thomson” or “Sportsword.com.au” should find me on Facebook).

OK, so don’t even think about going to the trouble of sending a Christmas card. We’ll happily settle for some of that feedback.

Have a good one.

Memo to self: Give some serious thought to publishing a book of sports crosswords in time for next Christmas.

Memo to you: Printing out a few Sportswords to do over the holidays (or, for that matter, throw together as a Chrissie gift of sorts) mightn’t be a bad idea.  

 — Peter Thomson    

No pressure, Izzy. They’d just like you to be up to speed in time for the Lions’ tour. OK?

Then, if you’re still around at the end of next year – haven’t found your way back to the NRL — they can start getting serious about their 2015 World Cup campaign. And, hey, unless you have something else in mind for 2016 (an A-League stint maybe), they’re thinking Rio might appeal.

For Israel Folau — rugby league superstar, AFL dud — it seems the rugby union world’s his oyster, doesn’t it. That’s the message he seems to be getting, anyway. But, hell, aren’t some of these people getting a bit ahead of ourselves?

The bloke’s barely started training with the Waratahs, yet he’s already being touted as a potential Lion tamer, Wallaby World Cup trump – and rugby sevens Olympian, to boot.

Yes, Folau brings an impressive skills set to rugby union — arguably superior to those of trailblazing code-hoppers like Wendell Sailor, Mat Rogers and Lote Tuqiri and most notably his aerial ability — but surely we need to see how he measures up in the hurly burly of Super rugby first before declaring his signing a serious coup.

Speaking of getting ahead of ourselves, how about those Poms? If you choose to believe a gushing British press, it’s probably not worth the Wallabies (or the All Blacks, for that matter) even turning up in London in 2015.

Make no mistake. That was a mighty effort by England to end the All Blacks’ unbeaten run in such emphatic style. But the greatest underachievers in the international game will need to start showing genuine consistency — in selections and performance — if we are to believe they’re indeed the real deal.

 — Peter Thomson

For anyone still tuned in to the Quade Cooper soap opera, I guess one of the mildy intriguing questions now is how the episode featuring his bizarre foray into boxing will play out.

Personally, I can’t get remotely interested in how Cooper might measure up on the pugilistic front. But I did see a certain irony in the fact that questions about his boxing ability should come at a time when two national teams have demonstrated a sorry inability to deliver a knockout punch when they had their rivals well and truly on the ropes.

First, of course, we had the Wallabies — seemingly cruising at halftime – all but gifting Italy an historic Test victory in Florence. Then, the Australian cricket team – firmly in the box seat at the end of day four – failing to put the Proteas away in the pivotal second Test in Adelaide.

Any further comparisons between the two sides’ performances are obviously tenuous, at best — not least given the standing of their respective opponents. But the bottom line is both let themselves down when in a position to hammer home an overwhelming advantage – and both have only one more chance to redeem themselves.

If I was a betting man – one of these days I might get around to opening an account – I’d probably be giving both the Wallabies’ tour finale against Wales and the WACA series decider a big miss.

As with the tiresome Quade Cooper saga, I’m more than happy to sit on the sideline and adopt a wait-and-see policy.

— Peter Thomson   

Forty-odd years after an event which still represents one of my greatest sporting regrets, I’m finally set to witness first-day action in an Australia-South Africa cricket Test. Brisbane’s fickle November weather permitting, of course.

As always, it’s been fascinating to revisit past series in the lead-up to this much-anticipated Gabba showdown – to relive some of the more memorable Australia-South Africa Tests; to recall some of the more famous feats down through the years.

Like Barry Richards’ stupendous maiden Test ton – against Bill Lawry’s outclassed outfit in Durban in February 1970 — for instance.

Yes, you knew where this was going, didn’t you … I was supposed to be there.

Fresh off a boat in Cape Town – on the first leg of what was to be a young Kiwi journo’s dream sporting odyssey – our mission was to take in the first day of the second Test at Old Kingsmead before motoring on to Johannesburg in search of jobs.

Suffice to say, seduced by certain “counter attractions” along the way, we missed making it to Durban in time – sadly, missing a remarkable Test innings which was all the more poignant given that South Africa’s ultimate isolation was to restrict Richards’ Test career to just the four matches of that series.

The outrageously gifted opener blazed his way to 140 … and that after Australian time-wasting (readily acknowledged later) had denied him an almost unheard-of century before lunch on the first day of a Test (he was 94 not out at the break).

As it happened, we did make it to Old Kingsmead for the second day’s play. And thank God we did.

Missing Graeme Pollock’s crowning glory – a monumental 274 – on top of the Richards gem simply doesn’t bare thinking about, even now.

[For the record: Second Test result: South Africa (9/622dec) defeated Australia (157 and 336) by an innings and 129 runs. Series result: South Africa 4-0.]

— Peter Thomson

Looks like those Frogs might just have the jump on us in the Melbourne Cup again, doesn’t it. Or do you reckon we can somehow deny the foreign legion another field day at Flemington on Tuesday?

I wouldn’t bet on it.

Then again, I’m not exactly planning a major plonk on one of the Europeans, either. Not for the first time – with an appalling Cup record over more years than I care to remember – I’ll be perfectly happy to restrict my financial interest to whatever I jag in the office sweep.

Meanwhile, anyone hoping Australian-bred horses can somehow stem the European tide would have found the views of Sydney academic Phil McManus rather sobering, to say the least.

If you didn’t sight it in despatches, McManus — co-author of a weighty book entitled The Global Horseracing Industry: social, economic, environmental and ethical perspectives — reckons that within the next decade we could see a Melbourne Cup being run without a single Australian horse in the field.

I won’t go into all the reasons McManus, an associate professor of human geography at the University of Sydney, trotted out. But, not surprisingly, they’re based squarely on the Australian thoroughbred industry’s dollar-driven “breed for speed” mentality.

As for breeders looking for quick returns on the track before rushing a boom sire prospect to stud duty at, say, four, McManus produced a gem — likening it to having Usain Bolt “watch from the bedroom while 12-year-olds run the 100-metres final at the Olympic Games.”

 — Peter Thomson

Hats off to Robbie Deans’ rag-tag team – a moral victory, no question.

But what a pity such a ‘‘watershed’’ result – albeit a numbing, tryless draw — should, for the most part, be greeted with so much doom and gloom.

How ironic – given the odds stacked against them – that rather than rejoicing in the fact that the beleaguered Wallabies may have, finally, turned the corner, so many observers were left bemoaning the reality that the game, the code itself, had run into a brick wall.

Let’s be brutally honest, though. Those last few heart-stopping minutes aside, that was pretty turgid stuff.

So where to from here? Well, Europe, of course. And that’s a whole new ball game.

Whether we like it or not, any calls for radical changes to the game’s structure – one of the more interesting  proposals a seven-phase game a la rugby league’s six tackles — are bound to fall on deaf ears internationally.

Which leaves the Wallabies with a heavy responsibility to get their own house in order — starting, obviously, with finding a backline capable of rediscovering the art of scoring tries.

That must have been a chastening experience for the record-chasing All Blacks. But make no mistake. They’re a quality outfit and they’ll bounce back – in style.

The Wallabies? Until they have a full complement on deck, I suspect there could be a bit more pain before any meaningful gain.

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If Robbie Deans was always going to be up against it because he’s “a bloody Kiwi”, I wonder what Australian cricket fans make of Mickey Arthur plotting the downfall of his once-beloved Proteas.

No one, I’m sure, would doubt the man’s professionalism as he prepares the Australian squad for the upcoming Test series against a team he guided to an historic series victory here only four years ago.

But hearing that distinctly South African accent when he’s talking things up is — well, yes — distinctly odd.

— Peter Thomson

For a bloke who’s so often demonstrated a conservative streak at odds with the Wallaby way, it’s strange how readily Robbie Deans has taken a punt when it comes to the composition of his reserves bench.

Not for the first time, the embattled Australian coach has opted for a 5/2 forwards/backs split on the bench this weekend. And, while it’s by no means the area of greatest concern as his injury-dogged team front a white-hot All Blacks outfit, it could well bring them undone before anything else.

Obviously, no coach can expect to have all eventualities covered, but surely the last thing the Wallabies need is to find themselves short on specialist backline back-up – particularly against a side with so many  strike weapons.

Bear in mind, of course, too, that one of the only two back reserves named (Drew Mitchell) is woefully short of a gallop after such a chequered last couple of years. And that on top of the fact that, up front, Deans has already gone for a grossly underdone Wycliff Palu as his starting No 8.

That gutsy effort in Rosario – even if it was against an Argentine side with little left in the tank – might well have the Wallabies in reasonable heart. But I suspect things could get ugly – especially if that injury bogey strikes when, and where, they can least afford it.

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As someone who’s been around the block a few times, I’m often accused of being a super-cynic. But, given cycling’s latest, and biggest, drugs debacle, I don’t think you’d need to be remotely “champions league’’ material in that department to have written it off as a sport – big time.

Considering we are, I fancy, only seeing the tip of the iceberg at this stage, it’s impossible to imagine how a sport so long bedevilled by the spectre of doping can hope to claw back any semblance of credibility in the foreseeable future.

— Peter Thomson

North Queensland’s rabid rugby league community aside, it’s hard to imagine too many people getting madly excited about Townsville’s historic Test against the Kiwis this weekend.

Sure, trans-Tasman contests in any sport always have a bit going for them, but I struggle to see how a one-off Test in such a ridiculous time slot can be expected to get the pulse racing – for players or fans.

Let’ s face it. Apart from punters who can’t help themselves, the result will be well nigh meaningless for most of us  — and it’s drawing a sizeable bow to suggest it’ll have any serious bearing on how things might play out in next year’s World Cup.

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You can probably make a pretty strong case for next week’s Bledisloe Cup clash in Brisbane being “meaningless”, too. But at least it’s being played in the context of a meaningful competition — even if New Zealand already has the silverware firmly locked away.

And if you can’t bring yourself to get excited about seeing the All Blacks have a shot at rugby history then you might at least be titillated by the result’s likely impact as the Robbie Deans coaching saga lurches on.

— Peter Thomson 

If, as they say, rugby’s the game they play in Heaven, the embattled Wallabies might need to resort to the Rosary if they are to avoid being brought to their knees in the Battle of Rosario this weekend.

 If they do, they’d perhaps be well advised to say a special prayer that the traditionally hostile South American crowd are as kind to them as they were to the all-conquering All Blacks in La Plata last weekend.

 Sure, the Pumas were always going to be up against it once the All Blacks hit their straps. But even more surprising than the ultimate winning margin was the ease with which Steve Hansen’s men managed to take an apparently starstruck crowd out of the game.

 A standing ovation at the end of the match is one thing – laudable, in fact – but a strangely meek, muted Argentinian crowd certainly did their side no favours after the Pumas had made such a slashing start.

Whether Robbie Deans’ threadbare outfit can take a leaf out of the All Blacks’ book is obviously highly questionable.

 But it would help if they can somehow get the rugby gods onside – and the crowd out of the game.

 — Peter Thomson  

For a bloke who was never going to be playing a role in this blockbuster weekend of football action, Quade Cooper has managed to command a ludicrous amount of media mileage over the past week.

 I could perhaps understand it if anything he had to say – either in his Twitter rants or on Fox Sport’s stage-managed The Rugby Club  — made any sense. But …

 About the only thing I’ve found mildy intriguing is the question of who put him up to it. Presumably, his odd-ball management team.

 To me, the biggest give-away of the lot was Cooper’s constant use of the term “toxic” – a term I’d seriously question has ever been part of his vocabulary (seemingly confirmed by the gobbledygook he’s trotted out in attempting to explain what he’s on about).

 If there’s any good comes out of this whole sorry soap opera, I very much doubt Quade Cooper will be one of the beneficiaries.

— Peter Thomson

New technology has obviously served to drag many a sport into the 21^st century. The reality, though – as highlighted by recent events in rugby league — is that some have implemented it decidedly more successfully than others.

Cricket, of course, is another one that has its share of “issues” in this regard.

An enduring beef I have with cricket – revisited while watching Australia’s T20 World Cup opener against Ireland — would, as it happens, require neither whiz-bang new technology, nor better eyesight than rugby league’s beleaguered TMOs, for it to be addressed. Just a simple law change.

Perhaps I’m missing something, but I’ve never understood why batsmen should be allowed to run “overthrows” when a fielder throws down the stumps, the batsman is deemed to have safely made his ground – and the ball ricochets away to an unprotected part of the field.

Shoddy fielding must, of course, carry a price and I obviously have no problem with the law applying to “overthrows” in the strict sense of the term.

But if sport is supposed to reward proficiency, I fail to see why a team should be punished for what, essentially, has been an excellent piece of cricket.

Surely, in such circumstances, the umpire should be entitled to rule “dead ball”.

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What do we make of this predominantly “black” Australian T20 strip?

Bizarre, I reckon. Seeing the Aussies strutting their stuff in black, green and gold, you could be excused for thinking you were looking at some sort of composite “ANZAC” outfit.

— Peter Thomson

Ever tried playing wheelchair basketball? Or had a go at archery using your teeth?

That’s been about the extent of my physical involvement with disabled sports. They’re experiences that have stayed with me ever since and, obviously, resonate all the more every time the Paralympic Games roll around.

As it happens, quite coincidentally, the closing of the highly successful London Para Games came at a time when I was gearing up to introduce a modified cricket game (Revolver Cricket) to a disabled activities group at our local indoor leisure centre.

As a co-inventor of Revolver Cricket – designed, principally, to make cricket far more “inclusive” and to serve as a dynamic development tool — I’ve had reason, along with my Revolver colleagues, to reflect with some satisfaction on the way it’s already been received (both nationally and internationally).

With serious recognition from the ICC down, we’re excited about where our Revolver journey may ultimately lead us.

But, frankly, in terms of sheer pleasure, it’ll take a bit to top our first excursion into the disabled arena this week.

You can visit our website at www.revolvercricket.com.

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The Wallabies’ gutsy effort to beat the Springboks last weekend may have eased some of the pressure on coach Robbie Deans – but he must surely be kicking himself on at least a couple of counts.

 Firstly, his rank failure to impose on his players a game plan that has no place for “silly” (his word, from memory, at halftime) kicking;

 Secondly, in light of Will Genia’s disastrous injury, his negligence in not giving back-up halfback Nick Phipps — now thrust into the Test cauldron — more meaningful previous game time.

— Peter Thomson

 Is it PC to ask: What’s T53? And, for that matter, F37, S12, C1?

 I suspect if I’d been following the London Paralympic Games on ABC TV, I’d probably be across such things (assuming their commentators took the trouble to explain the various classifications as the Games action unfolded).

 But relying largely, through circumstance, on print media coverage, it’s been a frustrating exercise trying to get a handle on the level of disability of some of these truly remarkable athletes.

 (Memo to sports editors: A regular classifications guide would have been handy.)

 That said, these Games have obviously been a monumental success — and, for some of our football coaches perhaps, brilliantly timed, too.

 If ever they were looking for something a little different to inspire their troops going into the finals, what better than a session in front of the box watching our Paralympics heroes.

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 If Australian rugby union authorities are serious about adopting the New Zealand model when it comes to contracting coaches etc, they’d do well to revisit their now-defunct national championship while they’re at it.

 If ever Australian rugby was crying out for something that mimicked New Zealand’s National Provincial Championship (and South Africa’s Currie Cup), it’s surely now.

— Peter Thomson

It was said in jest during a trivia night at our local golf club, but it somehow seemed to sum up the general reaction to the latest Kiwi-inflicted Wallaby woes.

Struggling to agree on the “Eight Natural Wonders of the World” (or is it seven?), one character at our table came up with the suggestion: “What about the All Blacks?”

There’s little doubt this current All Black outfit is a bit special – yes, potentially, perhaps one of the sporting wonders of the world.

But, if we accept that, then has the Australian media’s condemnation of the “Woeful Wallabies”, and coach Robbie Deans, been a tad over the top?

I’m no apologist for Deans – far from it. In fact, from the very outset, I cautioned those who saw his appointment as a major coup – and who scoffed at the NZRU’s decision to stick with Graham Henry and let Deans go — that the ARU’s first “foreign coach” experiment could well end in tears.

But  let’s keep things in some sort of perspective. The undermanned Wallabies have been humbled by a side that’s clearly playing rugby on another plane – and one that’s likely to take many other teams to the cleaners (with even uglier results) before anyone manages to close the class gap.

Where the Wallabies do stand condemned, however, is in abandoning the positive, upbeat, coherent game plan that — win, lose or draw – was once (in an increasingly distant past) their trademark.

Even allowing for the destabilising effect of injuries, nothing can excuse the mind-boggling cluelessness that has characterised these latest performances — and, let’s face it, severely damaged the code’s image in this country.

Deans must take the rap and, if he can’t turn things around dramatically in the next few weeks, then maybe the next flight home to Christchurch.

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Quade Cooper? After all the conjecture, it has to be said that, for reasons largely beyond his control, he was forced into a decidedly unfamiliar role … as The Invisible Man.

 — Peter Thomson

Quick quiz: What do Manchester City (EPL), Melbourne Storm (NRL), Collingwood (AFL), the Stormers (Super Rugby) and Central Coast Mariners (A-League) all have in common?

OK smarties, you’re right – they all topped the regular-season table in the most recent (completed) edition of their respective competitions.

And who are the only ones still revelling in the afterglow?

Yep, Manchester City – because, as first past the post, they were declared “champions” while the others, to all intents and purposes, were condemned — given the quirky nature of finals football — to being remembered (rather, forgotten) as “also rans”.

No, don’t worry, I’m not trying to mount a campaign to have finals systems scrapped (fat chance, anyway, in this increasingly TV/dollar-driven age).

These are merely the musings of a long-time sports lover who grew up with the “first past the post” system (in New Zealand) before it gradually gave way to finals – and who happens to think it’s a shame “minor premiers” often get such scant, fleeting recognition.

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You’ve got to feel something for Quade Cooper and Robbie Deans as the Wobblies prepare to face the All Blacks blowtorch at Eden Park on Saturday night.

Given Deans’s obvious reluctance to play Cooper – not least after the mercurial playmaker’s inglorious World Cup campaign in New Zealand last year – I can’t help but feel it’s been fuelled by a recurring nightmare that can be traced back to the 2003 World Cup in Australia.

Deans, as some will recall, was the All Blacks’ backs coach, under John Mitchell, when Eddie Jones’s Wallabies ambushed the Cup favourites in the semi-finals in Sydney.

Remember Stirling Mortlock’s stunning, game-breaking intercept try? Remember the All Black flyhalf who threw the intercept pass?

Yes, Carlos Spencer, one of Kiwi Quade’s boyhood heroes – another outrageous talent who, as Deans and his Kiwi compatriots were so rudely reminded that night in Sydney, could also be serious heart attack material.

No pressure guys.

— Peter Thomson

The Rugby Championship? Has a bit of a ‘‘World Cup’’ ring to it, don’t you think?

In fact, of course, it’s the grand/bland name SANZAR officials were somehow allowed to run with when they invited Argentina to join South Africa, New Zealand and Australia in an expanded Tri-Nations tournament.

Surely Four-Nations was the most logical and appropriate. Or was it, as seems likely, a case of SANZAR wanting to distance itself from the Northern Hemisphere’s Six Nations Championship (and, yes, rugby league’s Four Nations)?

OK, so why not SANZAR Cup? (Perhaps, to be totally fair and accurate, throwing in an extra “A” for Argentina.) Any name, surely, that better reflects its standing as a genuine Southern Hemisphere Rugby Championship – and avoids any perceptions that could, over time, undermine the code’s four-yearly World Cup showpiece.

Branding issues aside, SANZAR officials have been smart to bite the bullet at a time when the Tri-Nations format – not, I hasten to add, the Bledisloe Cup element —  was starting to look a tad tired.

A bit of Argie bargie may be just what it needs.

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Usain Bolt, Mo Farah, David Rudisha … John Lennon. Yes, as a Beatles tragic (see earlier blog), I’ve got to say Lennon’s belated, haunting contribution was right up there with some of the more indelible London Olympics highlights.

Having bemoaned his non-appearance at the Opening Ceremony (where Paul McCartney strutted his stuff), I’m obviously prepared to accept that Lennon’s ethereal role in the closing spectacular was planned all along. But I can’t quite shake the thought that it was Yoko reading my McCartney blog that spurred her into having that re-mastered Imagine video squeezed into the program.

— Peter Thomson

Now that that national day of mourning has been cancelled — thanks to Sally, Anna and co — it  remains to be seen what the ultimate consensus is in the London Olympics wash-up.

But, whatever Australia’s final medals haul, it surely has to be said that that lacklustre first week might just have been the sort of reality check we needed.

Not just in terms of swimming’s new world order but, given some of the outrageous pre-Games predictions, in terms of Australia’s true standing in the Olympics pecking order.

Thanks to the AOC’s spin doctors and assorted media hacks, I suspect that, going into the Games, some of us had been hoodwinked into believing Australia was primed for a top-five medal table finish.

But surely — reasonable pool success or not — the harsh reality was/is that while Australia will continue to demonstrate its ability to punch well above its weight, it will always struggle to match it with the real heavyweights (yes, now including the Brits) when it comes to the final medals standings.

Let’s face it. Despite what the hype merchants were saying, a top-five finish was always likely to be a (London) bridge too far.

— Peter Thomson

As a Beatles tragic from way back, I have to say I’m still coming to terms with Paul McCartney’s performance at the London Olympics’ opening ceremony.

As with several of his over-hyped fellow-Brits over those first few days of competition, it’s fair to say it fell sadly short of a career PB.

But, then again, what more could we really expect from a septuagenarian rocker who, to his credit, opted to shun that lipsync caper?

Though McCartney’s choice of song (Hey Jude), and vocal delivery, may have left a bit to be desired -– we can only imagine what a difference John Lennon might have made — I reckon Games broadcasters could have a field day trawling through the Beatles’ discography for appropriate highlights/lowlights package soundtracks.

The Long and Winding Road (cycling?), Twist and Shout (discus?),  Helter Skelter (track sprints?), I’ll Cry Instead (insert name here) … to name but a few.

Any other suggestions? If you’re lucky, there may just be one of those chocolate gold medals in it for you.

OK. Enough of this nonsense.

Can’t wait for the real Games to begin.

— Peter Thomson