h2g2 The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy: Earth Edition

Javelin, archery, hockey, rowing, boxing, soccer, running, the fact that the greatest word in the English language right now is Thorpedo - the Olympics are fantastic. Everyone should all be given days off work to stay home and watch the Sydney 2000 event on our fat, excited asses. There has been so much excellence, and vigour, and skill, and grace under pressure, and even though individual cycling is one of the most boring sports ever invented, you have to admire those outrageous helmets they stick on their heads. Still to come is mountain-biking, gymnastics, discus, basketball, pole vault, and the glamour 1500m athletics final etc. Brilliant. Bring it on.

Sport at this level lends inspiration and hope to the most uninspired, hopeless characters, and within three days of the Olympics I was haring off to play mini-golf. It's apparently being considered as a valid competition for the Athens 2004 games. Good one. Already I'm looking for angles that desperate sports writers can hook up to in my sudden dream to represent New Zealand at the next Olympics.

It's not about personal glory. It's about national pride. And at the Lilliputt mini-golf course in Judges Bay, it's $7 for adults. "We're from a newspaper in Napier," I announced, looking for a free pass. "That'll be $7 each," said the bloke stationed inside the entrance hut. He looked a bit like Tiger Woods, except he was white and wore a beard.

The afternoon was overcast, dry, with a temperature of 14 degrees. Unless you have a golf cart, golf is a nice game ruined by all that walking; but it was pleasant to stroll around the 18 holes at Lilliputt, which faces the obvious blue charms of Waitemata harbour, and backs onto the secret beige pleasures of the Hobson Bay mudflats. With the smell of seasalt in my snoot, and the whizz of heavy traffic and suburban trains in my ears, I sized up my partner, who is a sore loser and a bad sport at the best of times. "Good luck," I told him, while inwardly seething with a fierce Olympian desire to kick his ass.

I don't go around looking for excuses, but it's a fact that I chose to wear a light jacket, which got in the way of my exquisite stroking technique on the first two straightforward holes. As the course grew more complex, however, my natural abilities began to shine. The fourth, two-par hole demands that you manoeuvre your stroke through a cunning crack. I made it in one over par; oafish, ham-fisted, all thumbs, my partner shot a, pathetic six. Nothing succeeds like success. I beat the bum on the next three holes.

There is much to admire about Lilliputt. The front is lined with pohutukawa, nice shrubs and bushes are all over the shop, and the fifth hole is next to an empty pond covered in slime. Too busy admiring such features, I finished the first nine holes on 33, against my partner's 29. He was suspiciously animated by this point. The moral: mini-golfing should be drug-tested.

NO WALKING ON THE GARDENS, advise signs planted every which way you look. Noting there was an absence of signs warning NO SWEARING ON THE COURSE, I cursed a red streak while shooting seven on the 10th, par-three hole, and six on the 15th, par-two hole, which had three devious humps. But I shot one under par on the 11th, superbly navigating its inlaid maze, and was five strokes better off than my partner on the 13th - the challenge of putting the ball around a corner, and then uphill, defeated his tiny mind.

Good mini-golf landscaping is an art. At Lilliputt, the 12th hole has a tin drum posing as an obstacle, and a bush stands in the way of the 14th hole. Ingenious. But it pleased the eye and blew the mind to see five giant, gaily painted toadstools on the 16th hole, and there was a clever echo of Auckland's rivermouth architecture on the 17th hole. It ran beneath a culvert.

I don't want to make excuses, but I had a lot on my mind, I missed my young lungs, all I won in the latest Bonus Bonds prize draw was a lousy $20, and I was distracted by Solid Gold FM playing the Beatles over the loudspeakers. "Picture yourself in a boat on a river," sang John Lennon, so I did, and pictured myself up shit creek without a paddle. What I'm saying is that I lost. But only by one stroke, shooting 67 on a 43-par course. Athens wasn't conquered in a day.

Still, it was a tremendous outing. A good time was had by all, and there was a shimmer of Olympic gold in the air on the 11th hole, where I may have mentioned I shot one under par, with two cool, calm, fulminating strokes. More, please; the mini-golf courses in Hamner Springs, Ohakune Holiday Park, Splash Planet in Hastings, and Papamoa's Pitch'n'Drive await my strokes of genius.

Gooday Loony,

Cobber, you have the gift. Hope you don't mind if I print that piece off and distribute it to a few of my discerning colleagues.

Walter.

As God is my witness I have never heard a more heart warming and inspiring account of the trials and tribulations of mini golf. And may I say, on a personal note, I will be at Athens to challenge you in such a tournament - as my mini golf (or putt-putt as it's known to me) skills are second to... well everyone really.

The challenge has been laid - now all AOCOG has to do is make it an event in Athens 2004. I would be there in a flash.

Be my guest Walter. Send the cheque to the usual address

G'day Wowbagger. Simulpost. Your challenge is accepted.

On NZ TV just now the TV cameras focused on a dirty great snake heading towards the women's mountain bike cross-country course.

Gooday Loony,

The cheque is in the mail .

Are you getting much by the way of journalistic freelancing at the moment, or aren't you bothering with it?

Walter.

Walter, last week I produced, from scratch, an eight-page A4 newsletter for a Club - 1500 copies

Next week sees the launch of a local give-away newspaper by some friends of mine. If it is a success I may pick up some design work - creating ads etc.

I'm not chasing work. Sitting on the couch joting down random thoughts has a lot going for it....

How appropriate that our equestrians were dressed as undertakers on day one. A question we're all asking: Was the vet who declared our horses lame the same one who disqualified Kiwi from the Melbourne Cup? Boardsailer Barbara Kendall now has transparent sails. Absolutely no privacy left on board at all.

"She's 148 centimetres, and getting taller as time goes by," announced Steve Robillard at the gymnastics. "All those little things that help to increase your time ... improve your time," said John McBeth. Well, yes. "Sit back and enjoy the queen of the unparallel bars!" She promptly falls, on her bum. (I also find that bars become unparallel as the evening wears on.)

After sharing the joys and tribulations of weightlifters, some bloody stranger appears, lifts once and bags the gold medal. Accentuating the positive at the softball: "What a beautiful swing! She didn't connect, but a very good swing all the same." Did you see that pig-faced Russian coach at the volleyball bellowing at his lovely young charges? Why didn't someone shove the customary hypodermic needle into his arm? When they went back on court they missed the first ball, blinded by tears. The Russians had a player called Gamova. True.

Life just gets more bizarre: There is a singles in the synchronised swimming. What unlucky sailors we have. Pete Montgomery tells how one Kiwi sailor was just going to start winning when the helicopter - probably sent by the militias in East Timor - swooped down and sucked all his wind away. Then another Kiwi was just going to start winning too, when this big unfair, probably Iraqi, wave... "She'll have to rely on being one of the slowest qualifiers," fumbles Brendan Telfer. "He picked the bronze up off the floor." It means something completely different to a gymnast. You can see only 50% of a kayaker, yet we're constantly being told their height. US coach Richard Quick thinks other swimmers are on drugs; I think his swimmers should be in cement.

Cross country: as usual the other riders quickly fall behind Mark Todd. They also quickly fall ahead of him. So many fall, in fact, he has to stop for 20 minutes while they pick up the pieces. Is it uncool to look as if you're trying on the track? Lots of middle distance women casually throw in the towel without mussing their hairdo. Our girl, Toni Hodgkinson, uncoolly goes for it. And qualifies for the semi-final. Cool. One hundred metre sprinter Ato Boldon falls to his knees and thanks himself What a lovely day for a 20km walk. Oh no, the winner is disqualified for illegal walking. He didn't set a pedestrian pace.

Friday: We can no longer declare ourselves a medal-free nation. Mark Todd wins bronze. Thanks mate, have a good life. My stars, there's some big units in the women's open weightlifting. Several of them must be setting records just walking on. One is Ms Delgardo.- in Spanish that means "thin". Imagine an Equatorial Guinean swimming relay. Is there enough time left in the millennium for a finish? Aussie swimming: the lean green has-been. You find yourself taking careful note of the faces of weightlifters so you'll remember them when they're disqualified.

GOLD MEDAL TO WADDELL!!!

Gooday Loony,

Gee cobber, my business and my pleasure is the written and spoken word but I just wish I had your touch and gifts. You are fair dinkum blessed. Me and the beloved reckon that you ought to be doing some serious (as in well paid) columns and articles for some of the mainstreamers. Perhaps you are; if not, shake a leg mate.

Cricket and rowing: stultifying, enervating. Take care,

Walter.

Cathy Freeman 400m sprint. Gold medal. We walked in through the door 5 seconds after she finished. Bad timing on our behalf. Good timing for her. Good to be an Aussie.

Gooday Loonytunes,

Too right, but it always is.

Walter

Tomorrow a New Zealand lass will team up with a girl from Zimbabwee to win gold for Australia in the 470 class sailing. The land of the long shimmering golden cloud also supplied one of the gold medal-winning female water polo team. The goalie in the stick chicks team who will win gold comes from, you guessed it, Xenaland. One of the gold medal-winning beach babes has the same surname as me. Research continues...

If Aussie win 30 silver medals does this make Cathy Freeman the Aussie Messiah?

Loony,

I can fully understand why you are becoming increasingly desperate to get some success, even if vicariously or by the remotest of associations. You may be hallucinating - stay off the Steinlager for fifteen minutes or so. Talking of people with the same surname as yours, did you know that it was a Looney (fair dinkum) who really kick started the argument that Shakespeare didn't write Shakespeare?

PS Did you notice that the great little Windies left hander, Roy Fredericks, has gone to the great pavillion in the sky?

Walter.

Apologies Loony, took me a while to find this place...

I did see about Roy Fredricks, i remember watching him play back in the 70s when Lillee and Thommo cleaned them up.

As for NZs medal Looney, i believe Roy and HG said something about NZers being very good at sports where they get to sit on their arse and go the wrong way....

A bit harse i thought, but worth repeating

Linus, welcome. Next time you are over in Auckland on Air NZ business you must try and beat my score at the Judge's Bay mini-golf course. There's a good pub just around the corner. We spent the afternoon there having an Olympic drinking race. Everytime the patheic TVNZ staff commentator was corrected by the expert sport commentator you have to drink a mouthfall. A warning, travel by taxi.

Going by some of the comments I have read on the SMH website about the Channel 7 commentators, the game should be a hit in Aussie as well.

If anyone is interested, on the SMH Olympic feedback page (Have your say), I am Mark Todd's horse.

Walter sends Loony a gift of a cocaine-free sugar lump.

Can Mark have an Aussie Cossie like Cathy's? Walter are you Cascade on the SMH website? http://www.olympics.smh.com.au/live/index.html

Have to agree Loony, one would be very drunk very quickly given some of the idiots they have let loose with a microphone on channel 7 thus far

Loony,

I've just twigged to what you and Linus were talking about - locally it is being distributed as the 'Bruce You're a Goose' game, hence we speak in terms of 'this is special' or 'it doesn't get any better than this' etc. Me and the beloved figured we would be legless before Roy and HG came on if we strictly followed the rules about a drink every time Bruce was corrected by an expert.

NEWSFLASH: Kiwi-born Russell Crowe spotted snogging with Meg Ryan in the bleachers at Sydney. As far as can be ascertained, Russ is the only Enzedder to have looked like scoring at the Games (courtesy today's Age).

Walter

Aussie talkback radio 2UE.

Alan Jones: Yes
Loonytunes: The Woodies
Alan Jones: Yes
Loonytunes: Shocker
Alan Jones: Sob

A sob shared by an entire nation.
Personally, I feel that the Woodies represent the cornerstone of Aussie sporting greatness. Forget about these flash-in-the-pan swimmers, beach volleyball(ists) and runners... the Woodies represent dependability. I was shocked... shocked and stunned. Congratulations Canada. Congratulations Woodies.
"Sport was the winner today" he says, choking back the tears.