The Daily Telegraph, Sydney, 20 September 2000
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The only thing missing is the constant hum of angels singing arias. Otherwise, hasn't it been wonderful simply walking around under the blue skies of Sydney during our Olympics? These days have truly done something magical to the mood and spirit of this place. Whatever it is, it feels like the soul of this town has never been so at peace and it's proud people never more confident of who they are and the way forward. Even last week's mess at Martin Place was just a case of too many people wanting a good time in the one place. (Yes, you're forgiven, you little punks.) But I don't think we should ever bother to speak again to those idiots who jumped on planes and ran away from this. Sure, they remain ``Australians'', who will still call Sydney ``home''. And, yeah, we'll still refer to some of them as ``friends'' and members of our ``families''. But they weren't here for our Olympics. So, what do we say to them when they get back? What's the point of trying to connect on a human level? I'd rather bond with a Dutch swimming fan. I'm not calling for a systematic branding of these Olympic ``expats'' as they come back through customs. That won't be necessary. You'll be able to pick them out from that empty look in their eyes. And in fairness to this scum, I must personally confess that -- for a long time -- I too considered leaving this fair city during the Olympics. I know, I know -- I'm sorry, I was weak. But I feared what these Games would do to our lives. I feared our streets would be clogged with cars, all driving on the right-hand side of the road. I hated the idea of being surrounded by millions of people. Even the presence of that bloody ``days to our Olympics'' countdown was driving me mad. Ha! That all seems so long ago, doesn't it? Of course, everything's turned out to be just perfect. In fact, I can't remember the streets of Sydney ever being so uncluttered and free-flowing. And as for things being crowded? Well, I couldn't believe those figures released on the weekend showing that more people had actually left Sydney (189,510) than tourists coming into town (187,857). What can you say to that except: ``Good riddance, suckers!'' So, here's what I'm thinking. Let's try to organise a straight-up trade -- we keep the tourists and athletes and don't let anyone else back into the country. Really, anyone who wasn't here during the Games will never have had the chance to experience the simple pleasures. They will never know the joy of sitting on the astro-turf in Belmore Park at 7pm on a warm spring evening,surrounded by some 1,500 of your best new mates, cheering on our Thorpie. People who weren't around for that sort of shared experience will never understand what it means to be a citizen of this new Sydney. How can we ever trust those people? Perhaps we should go even one step further. Gather up any record of these Games -- newspapers, videos, all documentation -- and burn it in a massive bonfire on the evening of the Closing Ceremony. Let's give them nothing. We'll have all the mementos we need in our heads and our hearts.
