Everything about the IAAF’s decision last Friday to ban Russian athletes from taking part in the Rio Olympics makes sense to me, and there was something especially appropriate about the timing of it.

Because just a few hours earlier, on the other side of the world, Australia’s Jared Tallent was being presented with the gold medal for the 50km walk from the London Olympics, four years ago.

A small crowd gathered on the steps of the Old Treasury building, one of the familiar landmarks on the edge Melbourne city, for what turned out to be a unique sporting occasion.

It was – we were told – exactly 1,405 days after Tallent was robbed of that gold medal by the now banned Russian walker Sergey Kirdyapkin. A long wait, in other words, but a timely reminder that banning Russian athletes can only help create a more level playing field, and that maybe now even more of the cheats can be revealed under this new governance of world athletics.

It was also an appropriate location, where many Australian sporting heroes have been paraded down through the years – from AFL winning teams to Melbourne Cup winning horses, and also the return of successful Olympic teams.

This time they were applauding a newly crowned Olympic champion, albeit four years too late, but even still it felt like a very special moment. Not many people get the opportunity to go to an Olympics, so for the public to freely walk up to this medal presentation was a bit of a novelty in itself, and quite probably just the start of lots more redistribution of Olympic medals to their rightful owners.

Kirdyapkin was eventually caught for doping through irregularities in his blood passport and, after a further appeal process, was then disqualified, and ordered to hand back his gold medal. Tallent has since passed on his silver medal to Chinese athlete Tianfeng Si (who originally finished third), who will in turn pass on his bronze medal to our own Rob Heffernan, who on the day finished fourth.

It does make you wonder where Rob’s bronze medal is sitting right now, although it is coming to him, eventually.

It was my Cork connection with Rob that put the seed in my head that I should probably go along to the presentation. Then the more I thought about it, the more I felt I should definitely go along, experience this unique presentation, and understand exactly what it was about.

After all there has been a lot of talk about the retrospective analysing of athlete samples from both the Beijing and London Olympics, with a number of further athletes testing positive. But no matter what you hear and read, some things never seem real until that medal is actually exchanged hands.

Even today, if you look up the London results on the official Olympic website, the changes have not yet been made.

Olympic medals are so rare, so precious. Some athletes who win them on the have been known to sleep with them under their pillow, and on waking up the next morning, check straightaway if the medal is still there, so that it wasn’t all some crazy dream. I know I did.

Now, when athletes are presented with their medals at a later date, there’s a lot of talk about the missed opportunity, because so much of the celebration is in the moment of victory on the day itself. The moment will always be stolen, but I wanted to see if some of it could be brought back in Melbourne last Friday.  Anticlimactic event Was this going to be a stale and anticlimactic event, or a proper celebration of the re-writing of the record books?

It very quickly became the latter, a celebration not just for Tallent but for clean athletes all over the world. I was actually a little surprised at the effect it had on me, witnessing his gold medal presentation on this special Olympic podium.

The Australian flag was raised, the national anthem was played, and as the rain came down, the small and very appreciative crowd were given a further glimpse into a very deserving and emotional Olympic medal presentation.

There was no sense of what could’ve been. It was simply one of those rare sporting moments where you feel the hair rise on the back of your neck, privileged to be there in attendance.

The moment was re-enacted in other ways, too. The commentary of the race was recalled superbly by Channel 7, the Australian Olympic broadcaster, although you’d never know that the actual footage was re-worded, it all fit so perfectly, as if this was how it was meant to be. Kirdyapkin was erased, Tallent was champion.

I hope when Rob finally gets his hands on his Olympic bronze medal a similar occasion will take place in Cork, that it will be a public event for all to come and share in this special moment in an athlete’s life.

Still, as much as an athlete will feel justified in receiving the stolen medal, a lot of the accolades that come with an Olympic medal will never happen. The front page headlines, the jubilation and sharing of the success with your team-mates.

Thinking back on London 2012, there was that shared jubilation in being part of the equally most successful Irish Olympic team, winning with five medals – one gold, one silver and three bronze medals. Only now we’ve actually won four bronze medals, our most successful ever.

One thing that stands out is the day we arrived back to Dublin airport, and just before the plane door was opened, there was a shuffle of who was going out the door first, thus showing the medals to the welcoming crowd. After the medallists, Rob was next in line alongside Annalise Murphy (sailing) both had placed fourth. Fantastic performances, only nothing to show for their efforts.  Fantastic performance These are also the moments that are lost when medals are redistributed, because every Olympic hero deserves a homecoming. Rob was invited up on stage alongside the then five medallists, although he was a little forlorn being there, at a loss to explain a fantastic performance, yet probably knowing deep down inside that the bronze medal should be his.

Only now he can have his moment back, which is why as many people as possible should come out and share in his presentation, whenever that is, and realise that being presented as an Olympic medallist is better late than never.