The evidence, we were assured, was incontrovertible; players had completely missed the shuttlecock on some occasions, and on many more occasions than were statistically defendable had whacked it into the net.
Incontrovertible or not, the players' defence was weakened a day or two later when a Chinese journalist was quoted as writing that throwing games was standard practice in that country, and should not raise eyebrows anywhere else. (Interestingly enough an Auckland rugby league club that effectively threw a game late last month to ensure it met an opponent it knew it could beat in the final was disqualified.)
The Chinese journalist might not have caught the oath taken on behalf of the athletes at the opening ceremony, where it was promised that even the badminton players would respect and abide by the rules ... in the true spirit of sportsmanship for the glory of sport and honour of the teams taking part, although if he was at Beijing in 2008 he would have heard it in his own language.
So far so good for the people who are running the 30th Olympiad, but it only lasted a couple of days.
Things took a different hue when a German-born cyclist, riding for Great Britain, told journalists that he had deliberately thrown himself from his bike in a qualifying round because he hadn't made an especially good start. The team was allowed to start again, beating its opponent and going on to win the gold medal.
The response to that was not to strip the team of its medal but to suggest that there had been a misunderstanding, arising from the fact that English was not the rider's first language. He certainly spoke with an identifiable German accent but didn't seem to have too much trouble expressing himself in English.
Not enough trouble to believe for a moment that he meant something entirely different when he apparently said he had cheated when it looked as though an early exit might be on the cards.
It isn't only the athletes who take an oath before the Games start. A judge also does so, on behalf of all the other judges (which presumably includes whatever it is that passes for the Olympics judiciary), promising to officiate with complete impartiality, respecting and abiding by the rules in the true spirit of sportsmanship. Cue Tui ad.
The lesson from all this, and indeed from last year's RWC, seems to be that if you're going to cheat it pays not to come from a hot country, given that it's only Samoans and Asians who risk having the book thrown at them. And if that sounds a bit on the nose, consider the blatant favouritism that has permeated the British media.
One New Zealand commentator complained last week that in London the only place to see television coverage involving New Zealanders, even when they won gold medals, was at Kiwi House. Mahe Drysdale's gold medal performance at Eton Dorney, for example, had been completely overlooked by British coverage in favour of the British bronze medallist. It was claimed last week that at least one major English newspaper had expressed its disappointment at the British team's performance by ceasing to publish the medal table.
The British might have some way to go before they could be accused of matching the extraordinary bias displayed by crowds and media at Atlanta in 1996, but they seem to be giving it a go.
As far as the Games themselves go the first week of the 30th Olympiad - there haven't been 30 Games, but for some reason those that were cancelled during the two World Wars are counted - was a beauty though.
There was plenty for New Zealanders to cheer about, with the prospect of more in the second week, there was the rare opportunity to commiserate with an Australian team that hadn't matched that country's characteristically optimistic expectations and there seemed to be a much greater spreading of the medals, particularly in the pool, where Americans, Canadians, Australians and Britons did not have it all their own way.
China's strength in swimming was further displayed, including a contribution from one woman whose feats were so extraordinary as to inspire instant allegations of cheating, allegations that were summarily dismissed by the anti-doping agency, but there was a sprinkling of success for other nationalities too.
And, if we can put aside the quibble that many of the athletes are professionals who row, run and ride around the world week in and week out, we can take pride in the achievements of our rowers, especially, the first week heroes who proved once again that nothing is achieved without hard work, that without failure the full sweetness of success cannot be properly savoured, and that, like genius, medal-winning success is built on 10 per cent inspiration and 90 per cent perspiration.
Hopefully by the time these Games are over our team will have proved that Kiwis do not need to be sitting down, and in most cases going backwards, to get on the dais, but even if we have seen the best of the Kiwis these Games have been good for us.
We have long prided ourselves on New Zealand's reputation as a rowing powerhouse, and now there can be no doubt of that, despite the cost of competing year-round at the highest level from the bottom of the world.
It might be intelligence, guts and courage matched with talent that lift an athlete to the medal dais, but Olympic champions do not come cheap. It was stated last week that if Australia was to win the 12 gold medals it was expecting, which did not seem likely, each of those medals would have cost Australian taxpayers $60 million.
There are some brilliant individual exceptions, but money is now the name of the Games, which could explain why some have lost sight of the importance of sportsmanship.
