I just watched the grand old showman of the table get whipped by the young Korean and began reflecting on sport, nationalism etc. There is something wholesome about a bunch of Swedish supporters singing silly songs in praise of their hero, and somethign equally wholesome about watching him play to the crowd, while allowinh himself only the occasional pumped fist. The roars that accompanied most of the points the Korean won - that’s the Korean himself roaring - reminded me of the moronic Prince Regent in Blackadder.
Living in the region, I plan to take the family to Beijing in 2008, in spite of all the humourless jingoism that will inevitably accompany the “games”.
Waldner, survivor of another, more gracious, era, and Swedish fans whose enjoyment lies in the festival and not the warfare of modern sport - I salute you!