Glasgow saves the Commonwealth Games

The Commonwealth Games are back. And yes, they did threaten to walk out the door and never return. Glasgow may well be looked upon as the city that saved a dying movement from itself, finding character in a competition that was hopelessly spinning its wheels in the modern sporting landscape.

Hampden Park had pipes and drums and all things Scottish. And Lulu. And Deacon Blue, who fittingly sang of dignity amid a Games of sportsmanship, collegiality, humour, emotion, tears, cheers and the occasional Glasgow kiss (Australia's contribution).

But where were The Proclaimers? Their music has been a constant throughout the Games. Usain Bolt was even dancing to it before his relay and jokes about the marathon being 500 miles, than 500 miles more, seemed to get funnier with every telling. It was an odd omission by any reckoning.

Australia featured strongly in a prolonged pitch to entice the world to visit the Gold Coast in 2018. Jessica Mauboy crooned her way through a backdrop of tourist-brochure images and Mick Fanning, the Coolie kid and surfing champion, played his part. Kylie Minogue sung and sung and the athletes danced along, enthused by a timely break in two days of miserable Scottish weather. Even steeplechaser Genevieve LaCaze got in on the act, jumping up on stage and dancing with the Kylie.

If Delhi was the moment many felt the Games movement had finally flushed itself down what was probably a faulty toilet, Glasgow has been the Games that has refloated the old Empire's boat. This city of shipbuilding and steel has built a new legacy for an event many still see as a curiosity and an anachronism.

Part of the secret has been Glasgow's focus on celebrating the differences. There was no pretence of replicating an Olympics. How could they, when just two years ago London, a true city of the world just an hour away on a plane, staged one of the most successful Games in Olympic history?

Instead, Clydesiders held aloft the small moments, the 'hipster' sports like squash, lawn bowls and table tennis. And those athletes for whom simply being here was a life-changing experience were hailed as champions, equal and deserving.

The seamless melding of para-sports with the main program remains one of the Commonwealth's shining lights. For those like swimmer Rowan Crothers, a 16-year-old from Brisbane, to stand on the same podium minutes before a Magnussen or a Campbell is quite simply a dream come true. Not even the Olympics can provide that forum.

It has become a cheap gag to knock the Commonwealth Games for its absence of some of the biggest hitters of world sport; the Americans, the Russians, the Chinese. And in many cases, the depth of competition reflected the names of the entry list.

But in others, the presence of every nation on the planet wouldn't have changed the outcome. In the pool, the Australian 4 x 100m women's freestyle relay team lowered the world record on the opening night. The velodrome was bristling with world and Olympic champions. And good luck rolling Usain Bolt and his merry band of Jamaicans at the track.

Even if the elite weren't in the building, Glaswegians didn't mind a bit. To appreciate sport is to appreciate the purity of the moment. There would have been few fans that walked out of a thrilling A-League grand final, only to moan that Barcelona weren't involved. Nor does the Six Nations rugby take on any less significance because the All Blacks and Springboks aren't taping up the boots.

And so it was in Glasgow, where the achievements weren't lessened by the context. For many athletes here, this was their Olympics. Their joy, and sorrow, was celebrated and sympathised in equal measure.

For Australia, much will be made of the medal count, topped by an English juggernaut (58 golds to Australia's 49) still powering forward on the back of success in London and the goldmine of funding that it unearthed. It is surely a non-controversy but respective sports will have their reviews, some after undergoing the crisis they seemingly had to have.

Figures can flatter to deceive. England picked up nine gold medals in gymnastics to Australia's zero, a figure that virtually squares the ledger. And while the endless debates about funding and who gets what slice of a limited and diminishing pie will endure, there has been much cause for optimism.

Athletics proved to be the basket case of these Games, as was swimming in London. But better to crash the bus into a cliff during Commonwealth competition rather than the Olympics. By Rio in two years time, the team may be glad the meltdown had been endured.

For others, the experience has been profitable, with the knowledge garnered in big stadiums invaluable. In the pool, Bronte and Cate - the Clan Campbell - are spearheading a new generation of world-class stars. Some have been born, others like James Magnussen continue to be reborn.

For the boxers, who returned without medals in Delhi and London, two golds and a silver points to a vast improvement. Cycling and shooting also exceeded their targets, while athletics, gymnastics and weightlifting - as well as swimming - were statistically short of theirs, although Australian sports bosses are hardly in a state of wild panic.

The Gold Coast's flag handover had a touch of cringeworthiness, featuring monologues from Fanning and Sally Pearson, who looked more nervous taking the stage than she did before her 110m hurdles final. It was very Australian, cannon-fodder for the cultural elite but all rather endearing, if slightly tedious by the time Kylie had finished her very own marathon of tracks.

But the reality is the Queensland city by the beach now takes on an event that has been reinvigorated by a blue-collar city that itself has convinced the Home Nations of its merits, all amid a subtext of Scottish independence. A rush of gold for the Saltire was just the tonic for an optimistic nation that stands at a political crossroads.

In four years, with a backdrop of stunning beaches, abundant fields and glorious weather, it appears the only way the Gold Coast could stuff things up is if they put Don King in charge.

As the chief of the Commonwealth Games, Prince Imran, put it: Glasgow's Games were 'pure dead brilliant'. After 11 days in a sea of unintelligible English spoken faster than Usain Bolt's feet, that part, at least, we understand.

Nay fuss, nay hassle. Gie it Laldy indeed.