ABSTRACT
Looking forward at the beginning of a new millennium to the coming Olympic Games in Sydney, I try to recollect what happened last time, down in Atlanta. How did I react? I realise that once again I was swept away with enthusiasm and admiration for those heroic athletes, who had stretched the limits of what is physically possible for humans to achieve. Some have run faster than anyone has done before; this is true of Michael Johnson. Others have excelled and shown that, contrary to what should have been expected, they are – still – invincible. This is true of the greatest of them all, Carl Lewis. My query is this: is my enthusiasm for Johnson, Lewis and all the other athletic heroes respectable? Upon closer examination, my answer is no, my enthusiasm is not respectable. On the contrary, it is of a fascistoid1
nature. So the problem is really what to do about it. The problem is pressing, for my attitude towards the Games is not exceptional: I share it with a great many other people who walk this planet. This is why the Games are so widely broadcast.
