Here’s something we can all win gold in: crying at the television.

As this here website has already well-established, you probably don’t have what it takes to ever be an Olympian. I once threw a shot put at a local athletics park, and it landed approximately 20cm away and I thought I had broken my neck, my back, and you know the rest. I tried to form a doubles crew with my partner in a kayak once and he immediately started throwing up due to motion sickness. I can’t even pull off a Jojo Siwa bow like Melissa Jefferson. 

But there’s one sport I believe many of us could confidently execute at an Olympic level: crying while watching the Olympics. Every single time I have tuned in, I have found myself turning on waterworks so powerful that they could dilute the stinky old Seine in an instant. The steady flow began during the opening ceremony, where many countries I’d never heard of sailed down the Seine, boogying it up like they were on a booze cruise. Everyone was just so, so happy :’)

Then there was damn Celine Dion singing for the first damn time in four damn years from the damn Eiffel Tower. I had no idea what she was going on about, despite taking French for three years at high school (and just last year expertly asking a guide in that very same spot “excusez moi, quelle heure… do le lights come on?”). But it didn’t matter what she was saying – she was so triumphant that the tears gushed forth like the icy cold waters into the Titanic. 

This was already a lot of emotion to process for someone who has cried at a photo of a volcano smiling, a video of an injured bird wearing paper “boots”, and the mere thought of that old man who grows really big vegetables. Luckily, crying can have a raft of positives. A 2014 study found that a good cry can have a self-soothing effect and actually help you to relax. The study also found that crying releases endorphins, which can “ease both physical and emotional pain”. 

There are also benefits to seeing other people crying. “I think one of the important evolutionary functions of crying is that if we see someone cry we feel more empathy for them,” Professor Jennie Hudson, the director of the Centre for Emotional Health at Macquarie University, told RNZ during the pandemic. “We reach out and we want to help them.” That explains why I had to delete Instagram to stop myself sending a gushing DM to every athlete who had a bad run.

Because as we got stuck into the actual sports, emotions got even more raw. After Erika Fairweather missed out on a medal by just a quarter of a second, her heartbreaking post-swim interview brought on a Dawson-level scrunch couch-side here in NZ. The interviewer was halfway through her question when Fairweather put her hand over her mouth because her lip had started to wobble. “Is it just hitting you?” the interviewer asked gently. “Yep,” said Fairweather, dabbing at her eyes.

“I mean you can be gutted, but I am so thankful for the support I’ve received. I just wish it was more today, but it’s OK.” Asked to give a message to young girls out there (like me, 12 years her senior, weeping), she said this: “I might be crying right now, but that does not mean I’m not proud of myself, getting to the Olympics is a massive achievement in itself and, to be fourth in the world, I shouldn’t really be complaining.” Oh captain, my captain. 

There’s also been heart-wrenching moments like Zoe Hobbs missing out on the big race during the 100m sprint semi-finals. “I feel like I let myself down today,” she said, voice quivering and tears threatening to burst the dam (mine had already runneth over). “But I’m just proud to be here.” To make a moment of heartbreak ten thousand times worse, German competitor Gina Lückenkemper made an atrocious “photobomben” attempt that turned my cries to screams. 

Make no mistake: the lads have cried too. When Tom Walsh suffered an injury during the shot put semi-finals, he welled up describing the moment he tore his groin apart, summing up the excruciating body horror as “that’s life”. “I wanted to go out there and give a good go and that’s what I did,” he said, eyes swimming. “It’s always pretty special to wear the black singlet.” Back home, I had to delete Instagram to stop DMing him a message of support through sobs. 

There was also Dylan Schmidt, who, despite missing out on the podium for trampolining after a wonky landing, nary shed a tear. The same could not be said for me, who was already three tissue sheets to the wind ever since the commentator had casually pointed out Schmidt was looking kind of lonely sitting on the bench by himself. “Cuts a lonely figure out there, perhaps the coach is going to get him a sandwich.” Men eating lunch alone = my cry kryptonite. 

Thankfully, the tears haven’t all been tears of sorrow. There’s been the Kiwi mucking in teamwork that led to Hayden Wilde’s beautiful silver triathlon win, which lead to a photograph even more moving than the one of a squirrel sniffing a dandelion (content warning: emotional). He also thanked his partner Hana for putting up with him being a “stress bug” (men acknowledging their partner while wearing a weird headband = also my cry kryptonite). 

Perhaps it is fitting that some of the most cry-inducing victories have happened out there on the water which, as we all know, is a liquid that has a lot in common with tears. There was Emma Twigg’s single sculls silver, which culminated in her lifting her opponent high above her head before saying “you can achieve what you want to achieve, and you look at the results that our team have got, our amazing mums, I don’t think I’ve ever been as proud or emotional in my life.” 

Those amazing mums she’s referring to were, of course, Brooke Francis and Lucy Spoors. Taking out the gold medal for the double sculls, they also took out the gold in biggest couch cry yet. Collapsing into each other in tears during the national anthem, if the pair haven’t got you going at that point then I’d highly recommend looking through the YouTube comments. “Two amazing mums win Gold for NZ” said one. “Happy fast waka girls Kia Ora” said another. 

Just overnight we’ve had a few more high tide @ the tear duct moments. There was the silver-winning women’s sprint team, who made heartfelt mention of their late team mate Olivia Podmore. “So special to have her in my heart and I know that she’s here with so many people right now,” said an visibly emotional Shaane Fulton. And then there was Finn Butcher, who achieved what my partner could not in winning the gold medal for kayaking without vomiting. 

Win or lose, it’s all just life, as Tom Walsh would say. At the end of the day, we are all just sappy old sacks full of hopes, dreams and feelings, who often need just one little moment to remind us of that. For some, that moment might come after losing a race you have trained for your entire life. For others, that moment might come while you are sobbing into your cereal in front of a silent TV at dawn because a local trampolinist is sitting by himself and maybe seems lonely. 

There’s a few more days to go and more medals to be won, but even more likely many tears to be shed together. God defend our teary land.