Next door in Tumbalong Park, Australian families were gathering to watch the men’s 4 x 200-meter freestyle-swimming relay on a massive TV screen, one of six erected around the city to bring the Games live to non-ticketholders. They had been relaxing on the grassy oval all afternoon, enjoying a picnic and live music along with the sports action. “This is even better than being at Olympic Park,” said Sydney accountant Sarah Glover, sipping a glass of Chablis. Soon the swimming-mad Aussies were raucously cheering the start of the relay. Seven minutes later–actually, 7:07.05–the Australian team raced home in world-record time, easily beating the Americans. The crowd erupted, and the loudspeakers blared an old hit from Men at Work: “Can’t you hear, can’t you hear the thunder?” As if on cue, fireworks exploded above the Harbour Bridge, lighting up the city’s magnificent skyline.
Every Olympic Games generates a new pantheon of heroes. But the biggest star of the XXVII Olympiad has been Sydney itself. For seven years, Australian leaders have dreamed of using this golden moment to show that Down Under is, as one local beer commercial puts it, “on top of the world.” So far, everything has come off right on cue (except for some early transportation glitches). The Olympics have provided a glimpse of a once rough-and-tumble port that has turned itself into one of the world’s most alluring cities. Sydney’s success goes beyond the city’s mix of natural beauty, fantastic weather and laid-back locals. For all of their casual “G’days!” the Australians have sweated every detail with such care and imagination that even skeptical locals are pleased. “I’m just stunned,” says Judy Katz, a Sydney doctor. “I never imagined we could pull this off.”
These Olympics, in many ways, are meant to be the antithesis of the 1996 Atlanta Games: no crass commercialism overshadowing the athletic performances, no tawdry souvenir stalls clogging the downtown streets, no gaudy corporate tents making it seem like the fat cats are having all the fun. And–knock on wood–no bombs. Sydney Lord Mayor Frank Sartor saw the flaws in Atlanta and vowed to make Sydney “a Games for ordinary people.” Thus emerged one of the great successes of the Sydney Games: the free, live-entertainment centers scattered around downtown parks and plazas.
Foreigners have even more reason to be happy. For all the patriotism that has emerged during the Olympics–no cheer is more ubiquitous than “Aussie, Aussie, Aussie, Oi, Oi, Oi”–the city is decidedly open, tolerant and multicultural. Tired of the Games? Join the thousand tourists who are climbing to the top of the Harbour Bridge each day–three times the normal number–to get a spectacular panoramic view of the city. Or visit the bizarre animals in the Sydney Zoo before retreating to a classy restaurant for a feast of emu, crocodile and kangaroo. And Sydney’s nightclubs range from the slick (there’s no place like home in Darling Harbour) to the sleazy (don’t say we didn’t warn you about King’s Cross). But anything goes in Sydney. How many cities would include a guide to gay nightclubs in their Olympic literature?
Sydney is already reaping financial success. Organizers have sold more than 5.6 million tickets, 87 percent of the total and the highest percentage ever. The locals don’t even seem daunted by the fact that tickets are so bloody expensive. As the Australian dollar reached its lowest point in history last week, a working-class Sydney man stood in line outside the Olympic aquatics center with his wife and two children. He was clinging to a set of tickets that cost him more than $1,000. Why didn’t he watch on TV? “This is the chance of a lifetime for my kids,” he said. The stakes are high for Sydney, too. While the party lasts, this is the city’s chance to shine.
