Queen's Baton Relay Part One

It wasn’t at first obvious that anything was out of the ordinary this Friday morning, 27^th June. The rush hour traffic was heavy, as usual, streaming past Dundee’s City Quay. Busy, probably late, drivers and pedestrians staring fixedly ahead as the seagulls above take part in their usual chorus of screeching without much regard for anything but the leftover chips from last night’s takeaways. The shops and cafes along the streets have just opened, as they do every Friday morning, ready for the day’s trade.

Had one of those drivers, pedestrians, shopkeepers or indeed seagulls taken a cursory glance towards the Quay they may have in fact seen something quite different. Marked out in gleaming blue and white, a man you probably wouldn’t look twice at on an ordinary day finds himself the centre of everyone’s attention – everyone who knows what’s going on that is. And that’s how it will remain for the next three minutes or so. A convoy of vehicles, police and some very official looking people escort the man, quite proudly, as he sets off on a mission he has been specially selected for. It might not seem like that big a deal to someone on the outside of all the hype about to go off, but make no mistake, this is definitely a mission.

Cameras and furry sound poles (that’s us by the way) follow him as he makes his short but vital journey to the Quay bridge.  And in his hand? The illustrious Commonwealth Baton which, sporty or not, has been reminding you of a certain upcoming event every time you switch on the news for the past two weeks.

In fact, the short shaft of metal being passed from hand to hand carries so much meaning for each of its beholders, it’s a wonder it’s not glowing hot red and shooting sparks, especially with the number of cameras and police which have been trained on it since it arrived in Scotland on the 14^th of June.

As the Baton joins its next carrier you can see the excitement and nerves on his face. For him and his family and friends this is the most important three minutes of the Baton’s five and a half week journey around our bonnie land.

His name is Andrew Batchellor and I was about to find out that, like every Baton bearer today, he has an incredible story.

Not quite a year ago, Andrew took it upon himself to do something out of the line of duty for the people of his home city, Dundee. Quite of his own accord, he started promoting and raising awareness for the Dundee City of Culture bid after seeing the council weren’t…well…doing a very good job to be frank. Within 8 months he had 2658 likes on his Dundee: A City of Culture Facebook page. He wasn’t paid, he wasn’t asked; in fact, there was no obvious motivation for Andrew’s actions apart from a total dedication to the people of Dundee and the future of his city.

Now, this is all pretty good stuff, but you’re probably thinking he’s a shrewd businessman eager to have his name noticed in the local area? Or a previous counsellor for Dundee looking to carry on his work? A Dundee charity worker, even? If you’re thinking any of the above, you are wrong. Andrew is a schoolboy. Thirteen years old, studying at school and leading a normal teenage life, all alongside running an inspirational campaign for Dundee’s future.

As I stood, interviewing this excitable, compassionate thirteen year old, listening to the boundless energy in his voice for the work he has been doing and plans to continue, I suddenly felt ever so slightly inadequate. And it was only 8.45 in the morning!

I later flicked through the pictures from Andrew’s run and found a lovely one of his family around him. It reminded me of the normal lives everyone has and yet some of us – or a surprisingly large majority of us, as I was about to find out – do amazing things that touch the lives of so many others.

Queen's Baton Relay Part Two

Queen's Baton Relay Part Two

The magic of the baton. It’s difficult to describe. In reality, it’s  sixty one and a half centimetres of wood and metal, and yet, by that afternoon, as the Games officials took pictures of different people from the crowds holding it, you can see it means a whole lot more. An elderly lady, delight in her eyes at now being properly part of the excitement, passes it on to a young mother carrying her baby in front of her. You can see the curiosity in the child’s eyes. Is it an ice-cream, he seems to question, and his little hand thrusts out to grasp it. That touch, that picture, the smile on his mother’s face, perhaps even a small memory forever nestled in his mind. That is the magic of the baton. It knits us together – people, communities, groups who would never normally interact have the chance to come together because of one common object, leaving us with almost tangible memories and including every one of us in its widely travelled aura.

The Oor Games crew interviewed a lot of people during the day the baton passed around Dundee. And, as apprehensive as most of the interviewees were – something to do with a large fluffy object and huge lens being shoved in their faces apparently – most ended up talking about their role in the baton relay with, at the very least, some amount of enthusiasm. Also, contrary to what they believed, what they were trying to say was perfectly articulate and understandable. One such lady was with Leisure and Culture Dundee. Before I continue, it’s worth mentioning Leisure and Culture are an organisation which provides all kinds of sport, leisure and cultural services to Dundee for us all to enjoy.

Having professed to being of no use in front of a camera with nothing much to say for herself, she didn’t take long to forget the lens and furry mic as she launched into an explanation of her role in the sport area of the organisation and all the work she does for the kids who attend the events she holds.

I for one was impressed – no, inspired – by this lady's passion for getting people active and inspiring a whole new generation to do and be more. I know it sounds cliché – how many times have we heard about someone being inspired by another’s passion – but when you see it in someone, really see it, you can’t help but reflect on your own drives and ambitions. For some, this translates into inspiration. You just want to do something worthwhile.

This fact got me thinking. Mainly about the depth of the Commonwealth Games. Past the events, past the athletes and CEO’s and chairpeople, past the baton even. When you whittle it down, you can only be left with the people.

The Commonwealth is a group of 53 countries and filling these countries are people. The athletes we all see as a result of the Games only make up a tiny fraction of the Commonwealth people and yes, their dedication, energy, fight and skill are exceptionally inspiring for everyone watching on, but the heart of the Games, the reason it is as exciting and inspirational as it is, perhaps the whole reason it exists, is because it showcases our hard working, ambitious, driven people. The wonderful, miraculous, normal people that will sit in the stadium seats  or in front of their television to watch the summer of Games, and who lead the most unselfish, heroic, generous lives and don’t even know it. And when we get to see that these people are amongst us, are just like us, are us, that, I feel, is the inspiration of the Games.

Queen's Baton Relay Part One                                                             Queen's Baton Relay Part Three

Queen's Baton Relay Part Three

For those who are skeptical, even cynical, of the Games and the Baton Relay that precedes them – those who only see cost and extravagance – I’d like to tell you about one baton bearer I saw. Her name is Molly Robertson and, at twenty past two this Friday afternoon, we were running late to film her section of the relay. As we jogged up the road amidst crowds of people, camera aloft, we just managed to capture a glimpse of the end of her run but in those few minutes we saw all we needed to see. Molly is a student at a school in Dundee and she was nominated by her school to carry the baton. As she carries the baton along Johnston Avenue today, the look on her face says it all. Dozens of people clapping and cheering, there for her and only her. Once she'd had her picture taken with the baton, she received a bouquet of flowers. Now, a simple bouquet of flowers seems so insignificant in the scheme of things, but from the elation on this girl's face you could see that boquet was helping make this the most special day of her life. It didn't cost anything for those people to be there, clapping and cheering; for someone to hand her a bunch of flowers, but it is a memory that will stay with Molly forever. A reason to come together, a reason for people to unite, can never be something to be skeptical about.

Anyone who was following the Baton's progress in Dundee on the 27th June will know it finished up in the Square amidst excitement, entertainment and, most importantly, neighbourliness between residents, visitors, organisers and baton bearers alike. It was the culmination of everything that had been building throughout the day, from the inspiration being spread by the bearers to the generosity being shown by the volunteers, talented individuals showing off their learned skills, to the enthusiasm rarely seen on an average day from all the spectators. When it all came together it was awe inspiring - Dundee is really capable of all this? No sign of the doom and gloom of current economic situations, no old feuds, no gripes or grievances, even in the un-summer like chill of the evening.

 By this point, the Oor Games team were well into their sixth cup of coffee, and I for one was running on the caffeine of this alone.

Hyped up from a day of speaking to amazing people, soaking up the baton relay atmosphere, dashing from point to point and downing half a dozen mochas, I was having a great time helping film the crowds and gaining an insight into what Dundee thinks we'll get from these Games.

The lasting image, for me, of the Queen's Baton Relay in Dundee isn't Lord Provost's engaging end speech, nor the baton bearers - as excellent as they were - nor Dennis the Menace or Clyde the Commonwealth mascot. It's of two police officers at the very end of the day. Perhaps they'd just come off duty, perhaps they were still on, but as the Scottish ceilidh band played they seemed in their element reeling and skipping round one another, arms linked and smiles on their faces. The kind of thing you only see for a second or two, but when all those small things come together, you realise they're what make a community. They're what make this celebration, and they're what make these Games 2014.

Queen's Baton Relay Part Two                                                              Queen's Baton Relay In Pictures

Oor Athletes - what were the Games like from the other side?

Click here for the highlights of Oor Games' interviews with Dundee's athletes, Allison Bell, Vikki Bunce and Mark Stewart:


https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=d-jIRCCLB4c

Hockey player Alison Bell's profile...













Teammate Vikki Bunce's profile...













Cyclist Mark Stewart's profile...

Andrew Batchellor, Dundee Ambassador and Baton Bearer

During the Queen's Baton Relay in Dundee this summer, we caught up with local ambassador and baton bearer Andrew Batchellor about his experiences as one of Dundee's youngest charges...

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ivT2N9RhZI4

Like Andrew's 'Dundee: A City of Culture' page on Facebook...

Part 5: One Big Family

(Our sanctuary!) 

You'll be happy to hear the room key card crisis was averted thanks to a very understanding receptionist. I was informed of this halfway back to the hostel and, by this point, Glasgow had stepped up the intensity on the weather front, obviously deciding it would be misleading to allow all the Games visitors to believe this was a warm, sunny place to visit in the summer. Now, I'm from around Dundee and I thought we got rain pretty bad, but that notion was quickly dispelled as a squelched back up the street, umbrella in front of me acting as a shield against the sheets - no really, sheets - of water being hurled from the sky. Arriving at the Media Hub, I made a beeline for the toilets to try and sort myself out - it was still morning for God's sake, I couldn't be this much of a mess this early! With some creative use of a roll of toilet paper and a very temperamental Dyson hand-drier (he should have stuck to vacuum cleaners), I was less sodden, more damp and only looked like I'd been pulled through a hedge backwards, not steam-rollered multiple times.
But it was all good, I had photos from a whole host of volunteers, the fantastic array of events being held on Glasgow Green, and had seen the finish of the Women's Road Race Finals, all before eleven o'clock.
The rest of the team were making themselves at home in one of the lounges in the Media Hub amidst comfy sofas, free coffee and biscuits and a large screen broadcasting all the Games' latest. I can't actually praise Destination Media Hub enough - they were amazing and I only wish we could have spent more time there. A collaboration of Visit Scotland, Visit Britain and People Make Glasgow, they provided the place to be for all press and media during the Glasgow 2014 Games. I mean, what could possibly get a journalist more excited than the prospect of free coffee and wifi? Plus, the people running it were so friendly they genuinely made it feel like a home from home.
The rest of the day was filled with dashing out between episodes of torrential rain to film and interview spectators and athletes on the streets, and regularly tuning into the Men's Road Race coverage to take pity on the drenched cyclists. The most uplifting thing had to be speaking to the people lining the streets, watching the race. You would have been hard pushed to find a miserable face, despite the rain, and not one person had a bad word to say about Glasgow nor the Games. 'Amazing', 'awesome' and 'best ever' featured regularly on our camera and, by the time we got back to the Media Hub, it wasn't difficult to imagine we had enough footage to really make the best of our funding.
Come the end of the day, and after the last road race had finished, the sky had finally cleared up and my shoes had dried out. We'd had word Robert's cousin, a member of a Scottish band, would be playing at a nearby bar and so we dropped into the quaint little pub on the way home. When I say 'little', what I actually mean is it started off looking little until we'd gone up and down several sets of gnarled wooden staircases, and completely lost our bearings in a place I can only compare to something out of 'The Hobbit'. It was amazing. If only we had a Waxy O'Conner's in Dundee, my life would be complete.
Once we'd settled ourselves into one of the many nooks and crannies of the pub, we quickly found ourselves striking up a conversation with a man and his girlfriend sitting at a nearby 'Game of Thrones' style bench and table. Of all the people to stumble upon, it turned out we were talking to Clinton Purnell, one of Wales' best gymnasts who had narrowly missed out on a medal only days previously. It seemed a fitting way to end our trip, speaking to an athlete who could tell us not only that Glasgow as a venue was superior to anything he'd experienced before but, and I quote, 'it felt like one big family'.
Now that should be on a brochure somewhere...

Part 4: Missing Key Cards And Other Surprises

Sunday morning came without any more problems or, miraculously, rain. Having left the hostel room and the rest of the Oor Games crew sleeping, I grabbed a quick breakfast before heading over to the Media Hub we would be spending the day at. Naturally, being around half seven in the morning, it was closed so I decided to hunt down some of those volunteers I had been so impressed by yesterday.

We had only received tickets for Saturday evening's events so, of course, I had neglected to check up on Sunday's events to realise there was in fact a road race running right up the street I was currently on. Perhaps because it was early, my brain didn't even click as I spoke to the dozens of volunteers and police workers standing next to a fenced off track which carried on further than I could see. I mean, what did I think they were all doing, just randomly convening on the street for the sheer fun of it? It wasn't until two dozen brightly coloured athletes whizzed past on impossibly fast bicycles I realised I had stumbled upon the Commonwealth  Games finals of the Women's Road Race. And I can tell you, there's no way you can realise just how fast those women go when you're watching it on T.V, nor the vast number of vehicles that travel in front and behind them - everything from cars carrying multiple spare bikes (and their coaches and such like) to ambulances and official Games vehicles. It's quite a to-do it would seem.

The volunteers I spoke to were more than accommodating since the street was still relatively quiet at this point, and they could tell me all about the time they'd had in Glasgow - they really did a great job of convincing me a night out here is the best experience in the world! - while I snapped away with my camera. A lot of these volunteers weren't actually from Glasgow, or even Scotland, but had come from all over Britain to be here. Although, by the end of two very, very long road races, I'm not sure how many would have been questioning that decision!

Sitting quite comfortably in the Media Hub some time later, just a short distance from the action of the Women's Road Race, I could watch it on the large screen provided in one of the lounges. It's a strange experience watching BBC coverage of something just outside your window. Anyway, it turns out the cyclists do so many laps I had time to blog, drink numerous cups of free coffee and make my way over to Glasgow Green for the finishing stretch with time to spare. And I only had to ask for the same directions three times. 

Having not realised there would be security checks on the way into the Green I had taken with me all my stuff and so it took a while for the poor security men to rake through my newspapers, receipts, half eaten protein bars, notepads, random bits of makeup and whatever else was lurking at the bottom of my rather large bag. By the time I finally got in, it was raining again. Amazingly, I had actually thought ahead this time and brought an umbrella, much to my smug satisfaction. Unfortunately however, I had only brought a couple of pairs of flimsy flats for the whole weekend and since most of the Green is grass (funnily enough) I was squelching around in two mobile puddles before long. Still, at least the top half of me was dry. Ish.

The end of the Women's Road Race Finals was pretty thrilling even from two rows back and only managing to catch a glimpse of coloured Lycra and bicycle wheels. I have to say, the spectators around me were a hardy bunch! Later in the day I would watch the end of the Men's Road Race on the BBC live broadcast and I'm sure I recognised the same faces in the crowd, a whole lot wetter than the last time I'd seen them! 

However, back at the Women's race I'd just had a phone call from Julie and it was quickly becoming apparent I had lost the hostel's room key card. Three days later I would find it at the bottom of my

aforementioned bag, however at this point it was nowhere to be seen, and so I made my way back to base to try and sort the newest situation out.

Part 5: One Big Family

Part 1: A Less Than Fluent Start

 (*picture taken before the following proceedings...)

So at last we have arrived at the train station, ready for our Glasgow 2014 spectator debut at the track and field finals after weeks and weeks of waiting. Needless to say, The Oor Games team is more than a little excited - I mean, we're going to see Bolt, for crying out loud! And, amazingly, all is well at the moment and it remains this way as we board the train to Glasgow Queen Street along with a lot of other Games bound travellers and I begin tweeting quite happily from my seat while everyone else enjoys the start of the journey.
Perhaps the acrid smell of an engine burning or the train being delayed by random signal problems in the middle of nowhere should have both been omens for the first of a series of little 'hurdles' the day was about to throw at us.
Having what I'm sure a few would describe as an OCD about being organised, I was typically noting down the names and start times of all our Scottish competitors due to compete in the evening's events when Julie, holder of the sacred Commonwealth tickets, came back from the train's loo. I didn't notice her sit down and peer worriedly into her bag, pulling out her phone and a stack of now strangely coloured tickets. Two teenage boys were sitting nearby, also on their way to the Games, and so Julie, with a hint of trepidation in her voice, asked to see their tickets while holding onto our bunch of six. At this point, my attention was caught and my brain was quickly catching up with what was going on.
A dismayed look on her face, Julie compared the boys' pure white tickets to our own, now scorched, bunch. Yes, that's right I did say scorched. It turns out it's not advisable to have your handbag, or indeed any item or part of your body near the 9.52 Dundee to Glasgow hand drier if you value it at all.
So, what do you do when your much sought after Commonwealth Games tickets are suddenly set on fire by a train hand drier? Well, several phone calls later (mainly because trains tend to go through quite a few tunnels, and tunnels don't actually have very good signal, funnily enough) plus some much needed reassurance from concerned passengers, we were half confident we might be able to get the tickets reissued once we reached Glasgow. Only half confident mind you because we still had to a. find the ticket office, b. brave the queues, and c. find someone called Jane who seemed to be the only official person who could help us.

Part 2: Smiling Despite The Rain

Oor Games in Glasgow

 

 

Part 3: Haud Yer Wheesht And Find Me A Squeegee

We're in, we've located our seats, Styrofoam cups in hand - we're ready!
Can I just say at this point, a plastic stadium chair would not have been my first choice of what to sit on having just been thoroughly rained on for two hours. The water slowly seeping out of your clothes - or bones in this case - tends to pool somewhere beneath your thighs, which is not conducive to successfully pretending you're perfectly comfortable and not really in danger of catching pneumonia. Perhaps this is the real reason stadium chairs flick shut every time you stand up. The regular medal ceremonies throughout the night meant when standing for the national anthem you could dispose of your gathering rain water every half hour or so, much like the workers down on the track bailing out the trays of water collected from their giant squeegees as they pushed them up and down the lanes. Is it just me or are these not the most brilliant inventions yet? The giant, roll-able, pushable squeegee, star of Glasgow 2014: for those who haven't seen them, they look for all the world like the love child of a lawnmower, a painting roller and a supermarket trolley, and they work astoundingly well! Sort of like a liquid clearing equivalent of a Dyson. Unfortunately, my attempts to find them on eBay have been unsuccessful so far.
Anyway, we had arrived early enough to get a real feel for the building atmosphere and, as the huge digital clock creapt closer to seven o'clock the crowds were building, the commentators were putting their all into hyping everyone up, and the staff on the track and field were working ten to the dozen in an attempt to reverse the weather. The majority of people watching the athletics this summer will have done so from home on their TV, computer or phone and probably guessed the atmosphere doesn't really translate across the camera terribly well. Before this weekend I had figured the noise in the Stadium would likely be ten fold what it sounds like on TV, the athletes would suddenly seem real in person, and there would be no skipping to the good bits - you would be with the athletes through every little defeat and accomplishment, you would be part of it. All this was, of course, true but there was so much more. Amongst the thousands of spectators you notice how many nations have turned out to support their teams, and suddenly you understand the idea of these Games knitting communities and cultures together. You also hear these wonderful snippets of conversations around you - everything from checking the washing machine wasn't left on to hoping a family member does well in the 5000m, which for some reason makes you realise these Games aren't some distant, fictional land. They're here, now and include you and me. And oh wow, the smell of the Stadium! It's this glorious mix of fresh air from the arena in front and pies and chips from the food stands behind which you can never truly appreciate from your living room.
You also don't have the challenge of trying to ensure you have at least one eye on the four events all going on at the same time...I took Biology and I can tell you it's not actually possible. The crowd suddenly start clapping in a rhythm and your eyes dash around looking for which athlete is about to set off on their medal bid. By the time you've located him on the triple jump track the crowd are now cheering madly and he's only half way to the sand pit so obviously you've missed something crucial elsewhere - how far did that javelin get? Or is the pole vault bar still up? And what a conundrum when silence is required for the start of the Women's 4x 400m Relay but Scotland's pole vault hopeful is about to make her last jump. There's no way you're going to hush 10,000 excited Scots until she's finished, however many 'haud yer wheesht's' signs are put up on the big screens.
By the end of the night, having watched the unmistakable shape of Bolt finishing the 100m Relay in his usual style on the other side of the arena, all our hands were raw from clapping ourselves silly, legs humid and sticky from being wrapped in that huge plastic poncho all night, and voices slightly hoarse from belting out a fantastic rendition of '500 Miles' - it's a cracking song but something about it being sung by 20,000 excited spectators at once gives it the edge.
Making our way out the Stadium, we headed down to the shuttle bus, guided all the while by the volunteers still working away with broad smiles and a good bit of banter for everyone making their way home. To be honest, as the volunteer standing by us in the queue for the bus played 'Daydream Believers' through his megaphone and laughed along with the crowds, I was questioning if he was a. human b. on something or c. sane.

Part 4: Missing Key Cards And Other Surprises

Part 2: Smiling Despite The Rain

Much to our surprise, the situation was resolved fairly quickly when we got into Glasgow and I have to say that was largely down to the fantastic organisation of the staff and volunteers working their socks off to make the games and Glasgow run without a hitch. We'd heard mixed opinions of the organisation and communication going on during the Games, but from what we experienced they were on the ball dawn till dusk which is certainly more than I would have been in the pouring Glasgow rain, dressed in an oversized poncho, waving a large foam finger in the direction of the Stadium all day. Not only were they on the ball but they were cheery as well, something I definitely wouldn't have managed!
Regardless of a few more hurdles in our day, we made it to our hostel, checking in successfully before stopping to gather our rather hectic thoughts. Our plans to get to Kelvingrove with the filming equipment were swiftly abandoned as we were running out of time so we set off for the shuttle bus with, I have to admit, not much of a clue where we were going. At this point in time it was not raining; in fact it was quite pleasant. Unfortunately it was not to stay this way and, had I paid any attention to the numerous weather forecasts - like my fellow, well prepared team - I would have taken at least an umbrella. Uncharacteristically I didn't, and anyone who was out in Glasgow yesterday evening will know what a bad decision that was.
Two hours and only a few wrong turns later, and despite resembling a drowned rat now wrapped in what can only be described as an overpriced bin liner (surprisingly warm, though), we neared Hampden Park and even I could sense the excitement building. Perhaps it was the idea of seeing all these amazing sights up close rather than on the T.V, or maybe it was the vast number of people gathering for one purpose, but there was definitely something about this wet, cold evening that made you want to jump around with excitement and say hello to everyone around you as you queued to enter the Park. And when I say vast number of people, I mean vast. The queue stretched away further than the eye could see in two different directions. Naturally we thought we were in for a long wait so we were more than a little surprised, and pleased, to find ourselves being whisked through the security tents at a nippy pace and well on our way to entering the stadium itself. Again, I can only applaud the volunteers and staff for the amazing job they did of getting everyone into the park with no fuss or hanging around.
So, with a brief thought for the poor police and police horses left out in the torrential rain, keeping an eye on the queues with a surprisingly cheery disposition, we made our way into the dry, if still a little cold, entrance to Hampden Stadium.

Part 3: Haud Yer Wheesht And Find Me A Squeegee

Ghana Shooting Team

An insight into life behind the scenes in Dundee's Commonwealth village... Australia have a lot to live up to in four years time apparently!

With thanks to the Ghana Shooting Team and Oor Games Film Crew.

Copyright 2014 Oor Games

Opening Ceremony

Queen's Baton Relay