SPORTRITE - Trivia ... that's what I call sport

with Tim Eves
Amazing how quickly we can become experts. Murray Mexted excepted, all it takes is a few breathless descriptions broadcast via the widescreen, surround-sound imported entertainment system, and suddenly you can ace your mates with the ultimate macho trump card: sporting trivia.
The impending five-ring circus in Beijing looms as the litmus test for sports-trivia tragics. Two weeks of competition, burdened by centuries of history and determined by measurements so miniscule they need microscopes and freeze-frame cameras, to spot, is either two weeks of hell or a fortnight of bliss.
By the end of week one, people you thought you knew well will casually sip their chosen tipple and mention in passing how Sarah Ulmer carved huge chunks off the world record for 3000m individual cycling pursuit when she won gold at Athens in 2004. Actually it was about two seconds, which is about the amount of time it takes to pick up a beer and get it to your lips.
You will know the Olympics are truly under way when so-called mates start talking about Mark Spitz, Erythropoietin, Asafa Powell, Peter Snell and Jesse Owens. Don't worry, they don't know what these words mean, they just heard them on the idiot box that night.
You may also note that these same friends - the ones who say "yeah, sure" when it's your round and "nah, I'm off home" when it's their shout - keep talking about Cadel Evans, the Schleck brothers, Erythropoietin, Alejandro Valverde and blood doping.
Hills are now called "cols" and are categorised. When they drive you home, they follow the vehicle in front closely, to draft and save energy. This means they are practising for the Olympics by watching the Tour de France and are acquiring temporary wisdom via two men called Phil Liggett and Paul Sherwen.
Liggett and Sherwen do the live commentary of the Tour de France.
Yesterday, they were verging close to meltdown as they breathlessly described how Carlos Sastre rode up the L'Alpe-d'Huez to claim the yellow jersey.
It was as powerful a piece of sporting television that you could stumble across. It also resulted in an abject lesson in reality versus fantasy. Or maybe it prompted an episode that highlighted the difference between acquired wisdom and real experience.
Because Liggett and Sherwen's commentary resulted in a full-on attack on two wheels by yours truly.
Fully lycra-ed up, armed with water spiked with carbohydrates and tyres pumped to maximum, the mini tour started at about 40km/h, maintained a lively cadence tempo up the first stage of the climb and ended with the lungs burning, the legs cramping and the eyesight blurring into spots.
The food station after the first climb looked remarkably like two golden arches and had a drive-through and the crowds seemed politely quiet considering there was a Tour de France cyclist in their midst. Either that or they were blissfully unaware.
The whole shambles finished with a celebration though, because the Col de Tikipunga had been conquered, and the phone booth was still working, allowing a call home and a lift back to headquarters.
This real experience stuff is well over-rated. Acquired wisdom is the way to go, with liquid prizes on hand for sports trivia.