G'DAY Olympic Games. G'day Australia. Hats off - what a welcome, what a do. A didgeridoo, even. "Dare one say it, it is, as ever, a little long," complained the BBC's Barry Davies of the opening ceremony, but what's four hours, 22 minutes and 53 seconds between friends, eh? And who's counting any way?
After the pixies with sods of turf on their heads at France 98 and the 100-foot white polystyrene caterpillar at Euro 2000, I vowed "never again", no more opening ceremonies. And to be honest, upon being reminded of the inflatable kangaroos on bicycles that closed the Atlanta Games, I didn't hold out much hope for Sydney.
But - and maybe it's an age thing - this wasn't half bad. Damn it, let's own up, there were more than a few spine-tingling moments, not least Cathy Freeman's party-piece at the end.
Mercifully, there was a minimum of glitzy tack and only four "snuggly/we love children/war is yucky/we might be different colours and religions, but we're still the same/let's follow our dreams/strive for gold" songs (if my memory serves me right there were about seven in Atlanta and 14 in Los Angeles).
Yes, there were a few crisis moments, not least when RTE's Jim Sherwin warned us "you are about to see a ballet of lawnmowers" and when the sound of several hundred baaing sheep filled the stadium, but they were fleeting enough to resist turning over to Richard and Judy.
A lone horseman carrying an Olympic flag woke us from our slumber by charging in to the arena and cracking his whip, signalling the start of the show.
He was soon followed by another 120 horses, prompting a concerned Mark Robson, over on Eurosport, to tell us that it would take the organisers four days to clean up after the ceremony. If you have a life and missed the party it featured giant jellyfish, stilt-walkers, acrobats and fire-eaters.
Then it was time for the athletes to make their appearance. Funny things start happening you halfway through a 199nation parade (200, if you count the East Timor team who marched, poignantly enough, behind an "individual athletes" banner).
First, of course, you lose the will to live, then you take to pulling your hair out strand by strand, then you start reminiscing fondly about Olympic boycotts when the parade would only comprise of, say, 139 nations. Then you get angry with Mikhail Gorbachev because, if it wasn't for that Glasnost lark, there wouldn't be 17 former Soviet Union states in the parade.
Then your eyes start deceiving you. For example, I spotted Brendan Ogle, executive secretary of the Irish Locomotive Drivers' Association, in the middle of the Aruba delegation and Joe Duffy carrying the Syrian flag. Not to mention Mary O'Rourke in with the Cubans.
There was a special cheer from a section of the Irish contingent in the crowd (the ones with the Rolexes) for the Caymen Islands (can't think why) before, a few days later, Sonia O'Sullivan emerged down the tunnel carrying the tri-colour. Why Lord, why didn't we call ourselves Areland. ("Oh yeah, ye have it really tough," say Zimbabwe).
Before then Barry Davies got all emotional when the British team appeared. "And they're playing Rule Brittania, too," he croaked. They weren't actually, they were playing Land of Hope and Glory. In truth, there's probably as much chance of an Australian band playing Rule Brittania as there is of this being a drug-free Games.
The classiest touch of all - this being the 100th anniversary of women's participation in the Games - came when six former Australian sporting greats, including Betty Cuthbert, Raelene Boyle, Dawn Fraser and Debbie Flintoff King carried the torch in turn around the track, before passing it to Freeman to light the Olympic flame.
"Cometh the hour, cometh the failure," said a less-than-generous Davies when the mechanics on the device that was to carry the flame up a cascading waterfall staircase to the top of the stadium appeared to fail.
The world waited for a lad to appear with his tool-box, but there was no need, it worked. As did the whole ceremony, funnily enough. Show over, now let's get down to this medal-winning business.
