WHAT a wonderful summer of sport we’re having. After the Euros comes the Olympics. I love sport. The excitement, the achievements, the heartaches, and sometimes even the victories cannot be bettered.

We in Fermanagh are blessed to have such outstanding athletes representing themselves and our county in the most important sporting arena there is.

They have given us all a sense of pride. They have sacrificed a normal life to nurture their God-given talents. We stand on their shoulders with gratitude.

Too often we in Fermanagh accept mediocrity too easily. We accept a lousy health service, bad roads, limited opportunities and minimal investment with barely a word of complaint. It’s that apathy which makes it easy for others to treat us like simpletons.

Our Olympians, though, aim for the top and get there. They teach a simple lesson -  demand the best for ourselves and others, and let nothing deter you. We deserve to be taken seriously; we deserve respect; we don’t have to put up with third-world facilities.

Thank you, Olympians, for awakening us to the latent potential waiting to be processed in every village and townland in the county.

I hope the Olympics will mark a turning point for the people of Fermanagh and rid us of our greatest handicaps: wanting to be thought well of, trying to be too nice, and accepting others' decisions with “Ah, sure, what can you do about it?”

The athletes have shown us that we don’t have to be second-class citizens through their uplifting inspiration. They should inspire us to stand up for our rights and achieve what we deserve.  

The history of the Olympics is a story of excellence succeeding.

Nobody can be certain when the Games began, but the accepted date is 776 BC (Before Christ or BCE), and they took place in the Greek city of Olympia - the undisputed home of the Olympics.

Hundreds of years before Christ, boys and men competed in a limited number of events at Olympia. Athletics has always been part of the Games. Wrestling, running, the long jump, discus, and javelin were all ancient Olympic contests.

Women were not allowed to participate in or watch the events in those days. Yet over 200 nations compete this year, representing every colour and gender. That’s how it should be.

The earliest games did not involve money. That true amateur spirit is sadly unrealistic in our greedy era. Perhaps the Olympics should still be for amateurs only, but gifted athletes have to earn a living, too.

In the olden days, those who won Olympic events were held in high esteem in their home country - one of the perks was receiving free meals for life. They hadn’t any drug difficulties that we know of, but bribery was part of it. 300 years BC, one athlete from Athens was caught bribing his opponents in the pentathlon.

In celebration of the Games, an Olympic truce allowed athletes and spectators safe passage to Olympia.

The arrival of Christianity contributed to the demise of the original Games. As the Roman Empire converted to Christianity, it regarded the Olympics as a festival for pagan gods.

But the ideals of the Games lived on to inspire what we now call the modern Olympics. They were first held in Athens in 1896. The winner of the 100M was Thomas Burke, an Irishman who ran for the USA.

Winning is important, but competing represents the true Olympic spirit. Stories of heroic performances are part of every Olympic Games and part of life.

Recently, I visited a rehabilitation centre. I saw a middle-aged stroke patient holding on to parallel bars as he doggedly struggled along a couple of yards of the platform. He was rewarded, not with a gold medal but with a welcome cool drink.

Next came an elderly lady recovering from a knee replacement. She had never kicked a ball but had given birth to five children, always put herself last, and was now struggling to bend her knee again.

But the man who left me speechless was a fine young man in his twenties. I knew him from years back when he was a top-class footballer. Life turned last year. He was in a horrific crash, and in my mind, I had written him off. I didn’t think he’d make it, nor did the skilled Intensive Care Unit staff. But he’s still here. 

The nurses and physios spent frustrating days trying to convince themselves and him that he would live and ­could someday walk again.

The nurse and helper balanced him on a support frame. They whispered into his deadened brain. The others in the ward were thankful they were not as bad as he was. A doctor in a white coat came to sneak a glance, hoping this might be the day he’d do the impossible – take a single step on his own.

All I could do was pray.

They lifted him up on frail legs. Sheer panic etched his face as he wobbled. Steady now. You can do it. And then he did - just one single step on his own. He smiled and, mightily relieved, sat back in his chair.

There will be Olympic gold medal winners this week who deserve adulation and respect. But not one of them will have achieved a fraction of what that young hero did. And what’s more, there wasn’t one of us in the room who would swap the magic of that silent moment for all the glory of a summer in Paris.

During the 1984 Olympics, the media focused on a young athlete named Carl Lewis. He was such an exceptional all-rounder that it was thought he could break the 16-year-old record in the long jump. The record was set by Bob Beamon, who jumped 8.9 Meters in what was known as the jump of the century.

 

Sixteen years later, Beamon participated in a TV commercial to publicise the 1984 Games. He recalled the jump he made in 1968; since then, he admitted sitting in front of his TV waiting for some young athlete to break his record.

“This year, there is another athlete whom people say could do it,” Beamon said. “There’s just one thing I want to say to that young man.”

Viewers waited for some arrogant putdown from Beamon. Instead, his face brightened, and he graciously encouraged Lewis, saying: “I hope you make it, kid. I really do.”

That’s the Olympian spirit.