When you’re old enough to know better, you shouldn’t even be attempting to see if you can replicate a taekwondo kick to the head, especially when you know you’d be lucky to hit the kneecap.  Stiff hips, a dodgy back and an essentially sedentary lifestyle do not a limber lunger make.  Just because I know that Jade Jones is Welsh, from Flint and has won two Olympic gold medals but was crushed by her performance in the Marie Celeste that was Tokyo does not mean that I know anything at all about her area of expertise, her passion.

That’s where the Olympics come in.  They make those of us who are sports fans care about what happens to people who work their guts out for years, mostly in relative anonymity, before leaping into our consciousness every four years (or three in this case, given the intervention of Covid and related complications).

Suddenly, we’re sitting there critiquing archers, dressagers, judokas, beach volleyballers, handballers, gymnasts, wall climbers, rowers, hockey players, skateboarders, whoever.  “Ooooh, too long before taking the shot; too passive; needs to move more to the left; he/she looks a bit tense (hardly surprising); too slow off the line; not going to get the height…”

Mostly, though, we’re in awe.  “How on earth did they do that?  That’s not humanly possible.  Blimey.  Unbelievable.  Pass the biscuits.”

And that’s when it becomes dangerous.  Trying to work out how any human being can get in to a particular position and attempting it yourself.  It’s a bit of a miracle that this blog is getting written at all, given that I lack the wrist, ankle and knee supports that are de rigueur for most top-class athletes.  Is there a bit of Simone Biles – and her fellow gymnasts – that is not strapped up?  Is there a skateboarder who isn’t a regular at A&E?  An athlete without at best a niggle?

In short, are all Olympic performers bonkers?

For instance, who in her right mind would agree to put in the effort to become an expert on the beam?  It’s 10 centimetres wide, four inches in old money and I don’t know how high off the floor.  Anyway, I measured it and found that my big feet would barely fit on it.  No wonder most women gymnasts are titchy.

This is one of my floorboards. It’s twice as wide as the beam….Crackers. Who on earth invented the discipline?

A French friend posted a picture on Facebook of two of the megastars of these Paris Olympics:  Biles and the French swimmer Leon Marchand, both the ideal build – or near enough; variations are permitted – for their respective sports.  She’s 1.42 metres (4′ 8″) and he’s a tad taller at 1.87 (6′ 2″).

A snap to treasure: two of the stars of Paris, Simone and Leon [from Karine Espinasse Beauvalet’s Facebook page, photographer unknown]

It must be good to be able to relax and bask in the glory after the medal-winning work is done while others are still slogging away.

Which brings us to the golf, more specifically the women’s golf, which ends tomorrow.  Like the men’s event, it’s the old 72-hole stroke play format and in the early stages it’s as dull as dull as dull – I don’t want to insult ditchwater, which is probably preoccupied and being tested at the moment anyway.  (That’s a bit of a poor in joke for those of us whose water is supplied by companies being fined millions for neglecting their duties, polluting rivers, that sort of thing.)

If you read the comments sent to the blog, you’ll see that everybody is desperate for a different, more dynamic format for the Olympic golf.  If it’s only the last round, or nine holes, that generate the real excitement, why not ditch the rest?!  A friend, a golfer, who’d been watching something else, soon lost interest because there was no excitement, nothing to keep her attention.

At least the crowds looked decent and golf was unlucky that there were no spectators in Tokyo because the Japanese are mad about their golf and would have flocked to watch.  Attracting the non-aficionados is the thing but golf seems to think there’s no need to adapt for the Games.  Tennis has done it.  Rugby 7s is in instead of the full 15-a-side version.  Golf?  Nothing.

What about a shorter format, a team element, mixing it up with foursomes, four ball, a bit of imagination, a mixed team?  Isn’t it all about growing the game?

It wasn’t just cricketers performing at Edgbaston.

Talking of growing a game, my cricketing pals and I were at Edgbaston again last Saturday for The Hundred, a shortened form of the game designed to attract non-cricketers, especially children.  It’s fast, exciting and noisy, great fun – even though it was sometimes hard to know exactly who was doing what to whom.  No doubt, we’d be told to keep up to speed via the app but if you do that, you’re 99.9 per cent certain to miss a wicket or runs or both.  For goodness sake, I missed a wicket because I was scrabbling on the ground for my coffee cup.

The only scoreboard we could see and half of it was constant advertising. Yes, we all know there’s 35 per cent off the merch but please tell us who’s in, what they’ve scored, who’s bowling, that sort of basic stuff….

Still, we had a great day out, the women won, the men lost, it didn’t rain and the young lad behind us made his television debut and won a pair of sunglasses.

And I’m just off to book an emergency appointment with the osteopath; what eejit invented taekwondo anyway?…