The New Zealand Commonwealth Games team in Birmingham. Photo / Supplied
The New Zealand Commonwealth Games team in Birmingham. Photo / Supplied
By Graham Skellern
OPINION:
Since arriving back from the Commonwealth Games in Birmingham, I have experienced all sorts of emotions.
For at least a month (I'm not sure it has left me) there's been the feeling of ultimate disappointment, finishing fourth and not collecting a medal as I watched otherteam members stand proud and happy on the podium.
I had talked about and proffered a medal, but it didn't happen. I reconciled it with the fact that I did what I needed to do leading in the para men's bowls pair. But it didn't translate into the heart-warming result.
Back home, fellow bowlers watched, judged and formed new combinations — it was as if watching the Commonwealth Games was a form of entertainment for them but depending on the result they simply moved on unadulterated.
It was as if representing New Zealand formed a gulf with your closest colleagues. Is it because of that tough Kiwi underling sentiment between winning and losing, that when you set yourself up and lose, you can become an outcast?
I had raised my hopes so high after 12 months of training that it felt so bad when I didn't achieve my goals. It can be the ultimate letdown, which no doubt most aspiring athletes have experienced during their careers. But the letdown also gives me renewed determination.
Graham Skellern represented New Zealand in Para Bowling at the Birmingham Commonwealth Games. Photo / Supplied
I was brought back to reality when nice friends responded by pointing out: "You experienced the Commonwealth Games and you wore the Silver Fern."
How proud I was. I now look back with mixed emotions. The time on the green wasn't as I expected — though the Leamington Spa venue was magnificent — but the time off the green as part of the whole New Zealand team was amazing, thanks to the NZ Olympic Committee.
They have created a model of success, promoting the New Zealand culture abroad and developing the family of Silver Fern wearers.
We, the lawn bowlers, arrived at our Warwick University Games village and were immediately greeted with the pōwhiri team welcome. The Olympic Committee support staff were ready to perform the team haka, Pou Tangata (the pillar of the people) with respect, emotion and enthusiasm.
Chef de Mission Nigel Avery invited us individually to step forward and receive a New Zealand-made gold-plated keepsake pin. It was almost as though I had already won a medal.
The pin demonstrated the interconnectedness of the New Zealand team culture, with the chained piece of pou tangata waihanga anchoring our Games experience to our shared team identity, our values and our culture of manaaki. The presentation and moment was part of a 100-year-old legacy of fellow Kiwis who have worn the Silver Fern.
We learnt the Pou Tangata and joined the support staff to welcome the men's and women's rugby sevens, the road cyclists and mountain bikers, and the judokas into the village.
The family of Silver Fern wearers who wore friendly faces and distinctive but subtle clothing were close. Wherever we went in the village there was always a warm welcome, particularly from the plethora of security guards who loved the Kiwis.
The support staff established an athletes' hub just behind our accommodation where we could drop in for a coffee, chat or catch up on the latest Games action on the television.
It was a meeting point with fellow Silver Fern wearers from other sports. I would often pop in after a long day at the bowls and without saying, one of the hub managers Julian Dean — arguably our best-ever professional cyclist — would be handing me a flat white and a Crunchie bar.
Just down the corridor from my single-room accommodation, the medical staff would spot me coming out of the door and offer me further treatment for my veruca.
The NZ Olympic Committee's business model is all about looking after their athletes and making them feel comfortable and reminding them of the honour of wearing the Silver Fern. Now that's what every New Zealand athlete aspires to, and I shouldn't be too disappointed.
Nonetheless the weight of winning a medal is enormous. Medals translate into extra funding, and so there is a responsibility to produce the goods. Next time!
Earlier this month, the NZ Olympic Committee held its Gala Dinner in Auckland to celebrate its best ever away-Games medal haul. Our team brought home a total of 49 medals — 20 golds, 12 silvers and 17 bronzes. All thanks to Pou Tangata.
The bowls team won three of those bronze medals through the tightly knit women's players. The support staff succeeded.
The celebration, I know, is part of being in the family that has represented New Zealand abroad, rather than just acknowledgement of magnificent individual performances. But if only I had won a medal, would that have made a difference?
