National

Olympics

Opinion

We’ve been bathed in Sydney Olympics nostalgia this week. A quarter of a century – roughly a third of most people’s natural lifespan. And yet the memories, like embers, glow brightly.

The TV montages, the commemorative interviews and reruns of those glorious finals have stirred something deeper than just sporting pride. It’s a wistful longing for what’s left us. A realisation that the world, as we knew it, has gone.

Sydney felt enchanted during that fortnight in 2000, as I routinely tell people who weren’t even born then. The spring weather was balmy. The trains ran on time. Giant screens lit up Circular Quay and Martin Place. As a university student, I remember travelling into the city to catch the swimming finals with the crowds.

As the day’s Olympic eve

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