There’s something about the sight of an athlete on a podium, face lit with joy at having claimed what is perhaps the most coveted piece of metal on the planet, eyes pricking in tears as his/her national flag is raised to the strains of a national anthem, that always has me reaching for the tissue. Isn’t it great that the Olympics which is arguably the best celebration of human endeavour on earth and an event that glorifies nationalistic pride also contradictingly enough, evokes emotions that are common to all of us? Isn’t it great that I can partake in Phelps’ incredible gold haul and in a strange way, be happy to witness such superb athleticism without ever once letting his nationality bother me? Do you find yourself rooting for the Gambia or the Eritrea only because, who knows, they may not even have live coverage in those countries and if you don’t, who will? I love the Olympics and what it does to us as a collective population while reinforcing national identity. It’s a shame that it will all be over too soon. And the wars we had briefly forgotten will resume from exactly where they were left.