THE REAL GAMES: Blond and beautiful, 19-month-old Shauna Burke sits happily in her buggy swinging her legs. Every so often her head swivels to locate the speaker announcing the results of the 100 metre female preliminaries being run in Morton Stadium.
She gives her father, Stephen, a volunteer at the entertainment events, a quizzical look - he's shouting and dancing encouragement towards the finishing line. Shauna has Down Syndrome. Stephen has brought her along today to show her what's possible. "I suppose it doesn't mean that much to her yet - but it means a lot to me. Fantastic, aren't they." he beams.
And it is very possible Shauna will run in future Special Olympics. Just like 50-year-old Brice Mayfield, from Sheridan, Wyoming, who has won gold in the 50 metres. His mother and I watch as he conducts a TV interview.
She says, her voice wavering with emotion, "He has been involved with Special Olympics for 34 years and has competed in nearly every sport. When I was younger I used to volunteer as a coach. Now all I do is follow him around feeling proud."
You don't have to be a competitor to win at the Special Olympics. Colm Bourke (17) is in fifth year in Pobalscoil Rosminí in Drumcondra. Colm is a volunteer and uses a wheelchair. He has to get to work every morning before 7 a.m.. "I'm lucky though, I only live five minutes away," he tells me. "Why so early?" I ask, "I help organise the athletes buses and the traffic. Otherwise the congestion would be terrible. It's important to keep things running smoothly."
Colm's keeping a count of the famous people he's meeting. "I've met loads but the best was Mohammed Ali. President McAleese is making a visit here this morning. I'd like to meet her too." I lost sight of him during the excitement of the presidential arrival but later I saw him in the distance and got a "thumbs up". Another win for Colm
Across the city at the Royal St George Yacht Club, Tim Foley is busy managing the onshore activities at the sailing events. He tells me, "We were a little anxious before the Games started. But then, we're always anxious about safety. However, these athletes have given us a pleasant surprise with their competence and common sense on the water. We're all enjoying ourselves enormously now, and it's been a wonderful experience for the club." He continues with a chuckle, "The only mishaps have been a couple of other volunteers falling in the water."
Brian Campbell, a 34-year-old builder from Ballybrack is busy checking accreditation, chatting away with everyone at the Loughlinstown Sports and Leisure Centre. When I suggest he seems like an unlikely volunteer - someone more likely to be out "with the lads", he laughs. "That's what my fiancée, Sarah, said when I told her I was volunteering."
Then he tells me about Dessie. "He was a great old pal of mine when we were little lads, well actually he was bit older then me. I used to be at his house all the time. He had cerebral palsy and was very disabled but I didn't notice - I just knew we were having fun. He was a great character.
"These athletes remind me of him. Dessie died when he was 40 but I know he'd have liked me to do this."
All the volunteers have different stories. Many I spoke to admitted they'd never had any contact with people with an intellectual disability before and felt nervous before the Games began. But after a few short days that's gone, replaced by warmth and a relaxed spontaneity among everyone.
We like the predictable; the organised social dance where we know what to expect and what is expected of us. All of this goes out the window when we're dealing with people with an intellectual disability.
They haven't learned hypocrisy and prevarication, doublespeak and phoney. What you see is what you get. If they like you, you'll know it and if you're boring, well, you'll know that too. Initially that's a bit scary but it grows on you - we might even want to continue living this way. Ask the volunteers.