Chapter 24

“Grande Bretagne! Great Britain! Großbritannien!”

A cheer erupted from around the Olympiastadion as team Great Britain entered. We had already completed our entry lap around the opening ceremony venue and were corralled in one quadrant of the massive floor whilst the other national teams kept rolling in.

The advantage of having a swimmer’s height meant I could see over most of the other athlete’s heads. I was looking for one face, even if I knew she wouldn’t be looking for mine.

The Village was something else.

People who’d been would tell you about it. You’d see news articles or clips about it when the Games were on. Puff pieces about the accommodations and food options, the logistics of housing so many elite athletes from so many places at one time, and the invariable references to the boot-knocking that resulted from packing so many peak physical specimens in close proximity to each other. Of course, those reports would all be G-rated. No journalist would risk their Games accreditation or that of their organisation by being too explicit with the details.

On the other hand, athletes had nothing to lose when explaining the perks.

“You’re single? Excellent!” enthused my new roommate. Toby Edwards was the point on our men’s water polo team. This was his third Games and given the average player’s career probably his last. Our mission’s organisers preferred to room newbies like me with someone more experienced, but they also spent a lot of time analysing schedules, so it turned out we’d be training or competing at different times in order to minimise clashing personalities or sleeping schedules.

Luckily the aquatic programs were the main focus of the first week, whilst the athletics took centre stage in the second week. We arrived four days before the opening ceremony, and after the last swimming event on Day 7, anybody who was still left would move out of the Village. Our fantastic team stewards had the joy of looking after the logistics of moving people in and out as their events finished or as they were staged out of the competition.

Toby and I had been assigned to the same room. After the Games, they’d be resold as student accommodation for nearby universities and gymnasiums. His excitement about my unattached status wasn’t due to any designs he had on me. “Padawan, I will teach you as I was taught. And then you will do the same to whatever fresh meat they stick you with in four years’ time.”

“Hang on,” I laughed at his solemnity, holding up one hand. “Big assumption I’ll be around in four years’ time.”

“Oh no,” he grinned. “You are The James Connor. Nominal ‘The’ with a capital ‘T’. I saw your performance at Nationals on TV. You’ll be around for a while. And,” he added with a lascivious grin, “we’ll make sure you can get around and, ah, have the full ‘experience’ of the summer Games. For a sure thing like you, it’s definitely a sure thing.”

As we unpacked, Toby explained. We were here for one reason: smash records, win medals. But once business was done, well, everybody needed to blow off some steam. And nobody understood the pressure built up by elite athletes than other elite athletes. Once your events were done, until you moved out you were able to enjoy the resources of the village; great food, nicer accommodation than many of us had experienced during training, and the, uh, ‘human resources’ who were looking for a similar release of tension. This ‘worst kept secret’ had gotten to the point where it was a public joke how many condoms were dished out to athletes at the Games. It started at the Seoul summer Olympics as an AIDS awareness with about eight-thousand branded rubbers being distributed. Now it was part of official sponsorship and something close to half a million were expected to be issued.

He flopped onto his bed. “So, once you’re done, it’ll be game on. It doesn’t hurt to start making the rounds during meals and if you get any down time, go and check out other events. Your credentials can get you into athlete seating in any event if there’s space. Ask one of the stewards and they’ll sort it out.” He began to reminisce. “That’s how I broke the bed in Edinburgh. I met this cute French gymnast in the dining hall and went to watch her in the finals. She medalled silver. Turns out her friend from high school was competing for Switzerland and missed out on the bronze by a quarter of a point. We were in the middle of consoling her with a reverse Eiffel Tower when the bed collapsed.” He shook his head. “Good times.”

“What’s a reverse Eiffel Tower?” I asked warily.

“Well, you know a regular Eiffel Tower? Two guys high fiving over one airtight girl in the middle? The reverse is girls and a guy. When we hit the floor, I thought I’d broken both my nose and my dick. All good in the end though.” He grinned evilly. “In both ends actually.”

“Okay,” I said slowly. This was getting really explicit, really quickly. Toby seemed to sense my unease.

“Oh, my bad,” he said. “A little full on, up front, huh? Sorry. I’ve just had an amazing camp with the team and I’m really excited to be here again. I know everyone thinks of us as the pool jocks. We tend to be a little full on. I guess that’s true.” He paused. “Just be prepared to go with the flow and have a good time. The Village is the Village. You know how coaches are always saying to leave everything out there, no regrets?”