FORGET our gun-toting antics, social media fixation, penchant for the buffet or sparse subsidies.
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There is a bigger issue at hand before we delve into the reasons for the underwhelming efforts of our athletes in London.
To put it bluntly, the only thing more laughable than Great Britain’s gold medal tally is the fact we can’t even dress our team in a uniform colour.
First there was the green and gold of our team-based athletes.
Then the white caps of our swimmers (which came to this scribe’s attention on the first morning of competition). Apparently they’re supposed to give some sort of aerodynamic advantage (yeah, right).
Finally there was the black and red Aboriginal colours (with a splash of gold) of our best boxing hope.
It’s been a kaleidoscope of colour which has put South Africa - the real rainbow nation - in the shade.
At last check that’s five colours our athletes have donned to represent us.
And please don’t get started on our predominantly blue flag, all too infrequently being hoisted high above a medal dais.
It’s almost enough to drive one to the point where around-the-clock commentary from Rebecca Wilson seems tolerable.
So why do we bear so many different colours? And perhaps, more importantly, what colour best represents us as a nation?
Amidst the hysteria of an opening night win to our women’s 4 x 100m freestyle relay team, a yellow-capped soon-to-be gold medallist stood out like a beacon behind the starting blocks.
Her name was Britanny Elmslie, a renegade in opposition to her three team members who had all plumped for the white headgear. Once the norm, Elmslie was now the outcast.
It almost looked like there was a power struggle between the quartet, akin to a Twenty20 fan taking on three Test traditionalists.
And these girls were supposed to be a team?
It was absolutely absurd and cast into a brief shadow by the feats of the named swimmers in the pool.
This is the epitome of any athlete’s dream, the biggest show on earth, and we can’t even look like we’re on the same page after four years of preparation.
A sound piece of advice was once passed on this author when he was a young tyro dreaming of blocking his way to a Test century in the baggy green: if you can’t play like a cricketer at least look like one.
Our Olympic athletes can compete, but some aren’t decked out properly to do so.