Lots of stuff bouncing around today about people favourite Olympic memories, from the lighting of the torch through to the medals. In my curmudgeonly way, I just want to name one low point. Something that has niggled away at me since the first weekend of the games. Something that the huge opiate of all the great stuff managed to soothe, nearly.
I have nothing against Kazakhstan but why did Alexander Vinokourov have to win the men's road race? For me he is the most under punished unrepentant doper in cycling. For him to take such a wonderful prize pisses me off. He is a reminder of a generation I hope is history.
My lack of tolerance for the man is partly fuelled by the fact that before he was unmasked for his doping he was one of my favourite riders in the peleton.
Now that I have though myself into a bad mood I may as well carry on.
One of the things that used to be nice about watching cycling and Britain being a bit crap was that it was one sport I could enjoy without the nationalist angst. I could root for riders for no better reason than they were great, or were battling. I could shift allegiance freely without a care in the world. Now we are not shit anymore and I feel myself getting sucked back into the kind of feelings that creep in when watching football, rugby, cricket or even tennis. It means that rather than freely appreciating a brilliant attacking Vuelta a result is everything feeling starts to creep over me. Stop it Andrew.