"That's the nice thing about the Olympics," said the BBC's Clare Balding, "you get to see sports you've never seen before mainly because, well, we never show them to you."
True enough, although these days Grandstand only ever shows us sports we've never seen before because the Beeb has lost the rights to the sports we still really only want to see, but can't unless we pay to view them, if you know what I mean. Hello? What day is it?
Ah look, lucidity doesn't come easy when the only person you've spoken to in a week is the milkman and Sky News' five o'clock bulletin is your breakfast television. As Ron Pickering once put it, "Watch the time - it gives you an indication of how fast they are running". What's that got to with anything? Nothing.
Trampolining? Now there's a sport we've rarely seen before but, thanks to Sydney 2000, there'll be nothing we don't know about it by the time its competition concludes.
My only previous experience of the sport was an unpleasant one in Scotland several years ago when I trampolined shortly after downing a bag of smokey bacon crisps, a Curly Wurly, a Loop the Loop ice cream, and a can of coke. I'd like to apologise again to the people at the Aviemore Centre but really, there was no need to be so rough. As John Wayne once said, "a man's gotta spew when a man's gotta spew".
Anyway, the Beeb's Gary Richardson took us on a guided tour of the sport yesterday so we'd be prepared for its Olympic debut today. Did you know trampolines began life as whalebone-and-driftwood boat frames with seal skins (later walrus skins) stretched over them and waterproofed with whale fat? You did? Well, bully for you. So many dead animals, though, just so humans could go boing-boing.
What you didn't know is that the sport was invented by a circus acrobat called Mr Du Trampolin and that a "Fliffi", a "Randolph" (aka a "Randy"), a "Rudolph" (aka a "Rudy") and a "Barani" are all technical/somersaulty terms in the sport. No, no, don't thank me, I'm only too glad to share my sporty knowledge.
"A `Randy' and a `Rudy'," chuckled Gary, nudge-nudging, wink-winking at Team GB ace boing-boinger Jaime Moore when she took him through her sport's lingo. Jaime wore one of those patient, yet slightly drained, expressions that people with names like Eileen Dover and Justin Case wear when they're asked if they realised how amusing their monikers were.
"People don't do as many `Randys' as they do `Rudys'," sighed Jaime. "Really," said Gary, shoulders vibrating with mirth. "No," said Jaime, "you don't really get randy on a trampoline." Gary had to be stretchered away to have his sides redarned. Jaime looked to the heavens and asked them "is this really what I have to do to promote my minority sport".
Women's beach volleyball isn't, of course, a telly minority sport (the men's is, curiously enough). In fact since the Olympics began its got more air time than football has in the last 20 years.
If there's volleyball and beach volleyball why isn't there archery and beach archery, boxing and beach boxing. And how come, according to the Beeb's Barry Davies, is beach volleyball one of Switzerland's main medal hopes? That being the case, can we expect Holland to take gold in mountain biking?
So many questions, so few answers. So many events, so few Irish medals. None, actually. But wait. Maria Coleman is third overall after four races of the Europe single-handed dinghy sailing competition. No, she's not Irish, she's representing the Independent Republic of West Cork (IRWC) in Sydney, but maybe that's as close as we'll get.
Tell you what, if Maria holds on to third Eamon De Valera, Cu Chulainn, Phil Lynott, Christy Ring, Countess Markievicz, Count McCormack and St Patrick will turn up at Dublin Airport to welcome her home. C'mon Maria, you can do it. We'll make a deal - win us a bronze and I am sailing, I am sailing, home again 'cross the sea, I am sailing, stormy waters, to be near you, to be free will become the opening verse of our new national anthem.
