Madeleine Chapman recalls the moment she first laid eyes upon pole vaulter Eliza McCartney – a gangly kid who just capped an extraordinary rise to claim bronze in Rio.

In 2013, while I was training in the javelin at the Millennium Institute in Albany, there was always a small group of athletes training in pole vault across the track. That looks hard, I thought, and went back to my throwing. The problem with competing in a somewhat niche track and field event in New Zealand is that it’s hard to tell who is good and who is just better than everyone else. Eliza McCartney was in that training group every day and was easily better than everyone else. But was she good? She had a season’s best in 2013 of 4.11m. A New Zealand record, very impressive, but barely a shadow of what she’d go on to achieve in the next three years.

There’s something horrifying about watching pole vault close up. Everything is done so slowly. There’s a moment in every vault when the vaulter is completely upside down and they look as if they aren’t moving. It’s like their momentum has run out and they’ve forgotten to right themselves. In that second, I’m just waiting for them to fall straight back down in a tragic turn of events.

Back in March at Waitakere Trusts stadium, I watched Eliza McCartney sail over the bar again and again and wondered not only how she was physically doing it, but whether I was seeing an athlete rising, just before the ever-crucial turning point.

By the end of March, McCartney had cleared 4.80m and secured herself a spot in the Olympic team. After this meet, I spoke to her coach, Jeremy McColl, about her chances in Rio. Being a recent fan of the event and completely naive, I suggested that perhaps she could even get a medal. McColl was quick to harness my expectations. “We’re not really looking at the medals to be honest,” he said, perhaps aware of the pressure that New Zealand loves to heap on its favourite Olympians. “It’s her first Olympics. If she can make the final, wow, that’s a huge achievement.”

At that point, McCartney was training once a day and attending university part-time. She was very much a successful amateur athlete. Laughing and giggling throughout her post-event interviews showed the enthusiasm and joy of an athlete who couldn’t quite believe her own accomplishments.

In the build up to Rio, qualifying for the final was still the goal for team McCartney. She wasn’t expected to win a medal. There was no sign of her in ‘New Zealand’s top medal hopes’. And for a few moments in the qualifying round, it seemed that she might go home without clearing a single height. Missing her first two attempts at 4.45m, McCartney needed to clear her final vault just to stay in the running. She did, and then went on to comfortably clear the automatic qualifying height of 4.60m.

Throughout the final, McCartney presented as the veteran of the lot, clearing her first four heights on her first attempts and taking the lead. The real veterans stumbled, with some bowing out well before expected, and suddenly a medal seemed like a very realistic possibility. In fourth place after bowing out at 4.85m, McCartney needed Australian Alana Boyd to miss her last attempt for her to be promoted to the bronze medal position. Boyd missed and suddenly McCartney, at 19, is an Olympic bronze medalist.

McCartney has had a meteoric rise in the past 12 months. She was overwhelmed to qualify for the Olympic Games. Then she was overwhelmed to qualify for the final. And now she has a bronze medal and who knows what’s to come. Eliza McCartney has gone up, up, up. And when it seemed as if she had stopped moving, and might fall back, she pulled herself over and proved herself as a world class athlete and favourite of the Rio Olympics.

Tim Murphy wonders why New Zealand rugby fans can’t have a show that’s fun and and irreverent and, well, more like rugby league’s The Footy Show*.

The problem with rugby in New Zealand is that it is only a game of two halves.  Two world-class halves of on-field action. The third, critical part – the TV buildup and warm-down so brilliant in sports codes in Australia, the US and Britain – seldom rises to the occasion.

Our players have been number one in the world for so long no one seems to remember when another side held top ranking. Our coaches are succeeding internationally like never before. Our technical televising seems to be right up there, camerawork, replays, high and ground-level angles. The commentary is pretty partisan but proficient, so let’s put that aside.

It’s just in the bits when we get people on preview and review shows to talk about the game during the week and on match days that we drop the ball.  Sky TV is reducing the role of the professional broadcasters – the fine Tony (TJ) Johnson and thinking man’s fan Scotty (Sumo) Stevenson – and thrusting forward former players. Most of them really former, like 20 years ago.

Despite the two decade search, they seem to have never really found the star players to make the transition to TV stars. On the chat show format, Marc Ellis was (and in comments Justin Marshall and on panels John Kirwan might now be) the exception. But the list of those who try their best without obvious training and development is long.

Short of identifying players who have played, retired and can fit into a Working Style suit, there doesn’t seem to be much going on out at Sky’s Mount Wellington headquarters to do the nation’s big game justice.

How can it be that Jeff Wilson is the face of rugby on New Zealand TV? Great rugby and cricket player – just not in possession of a TV face, voice or personality. His natural state is one of a frowning earnestness, tired eyelid droop and long, long monologues dressed up with a question mark.

At last year’s Rugby World Cup his nightly stints on a professionally chaired panel alongside former Springbok Joel Stransky and ex-Wallaby George Gregan were exercises in lots of Jeff finger points and told-you-sos, while the others brought humour, banter and self-deprecation.

During the aftermatch of the Super Rugby final on Saturday, almost every question Jeff directed to his panelists was a speech. The panelists themselves were mixed. Christian Cullen is authentic and has something to say, Kirwan is all Latin arm gestures, spiky hair and designer glasses but he is real, raw, funny and very recently from the cauldron.

The surprise is Andrew Mehrtens – a flamboyant, funny personality Sky has somehow locked away in a stiff, awkward TV set performer. Saturday’s wilful drenching of his smart suit on the sideline before kick-off was distracting more than illuminating.

The big question is how come a whole generation of All Blacks can’t produce a Matty Johns, Ben Ikin, Mark Gasnier, Nathan Hindmarsh or Beau Ryan – just to name some of the current talent gracing the Aussie league shows.

It isn’t just in presenting in front of the camera that we fall behind. The ideas the Australian Footy Show, Fox Sports’ NRL 360  and Monday Night with Matty Johns come up with for these characters to show their cheek and talent are light years from the New Zealand offerings on Sky.

Are we too small a market? Too limited a talent pool? Too shy? Too gentlemanly? Too humble and mumbling to pull off such a show?

Surely not. The legendary Ric Salizzo did it on Sports Cafe with Marc Ellis, Eric Rush and others. The Crowd Goes Wild often gets there with the peerless James McOnie, if you can look past Mark Richardson’s self-satisfaction.

Rugby has a lock on the sports market in New Zealand and deserves a regular high-level showcase on the channels of its rights broadcaster. A few groups of talking heads, led by Jeff, and maybe Ian Jones standing up showing tactics or drawing a move here and there on a screen, are just too darned average.

Karl Te Nana was good on-field during the final, and Steve Devine used to be terrific with him on their provincial rugby show. Cory Jane would be daring, risky and funny when he stops playing and Israel Dagg has that glint in his eye and a smile – that’s it, a smile! – that lights up a 50 inch Panasonic screen. Jeff Toomaga Allen showed class and promise during a quick interview the other night.

Then the talent needs ideas – some devices, gags, regular gigs – that help today’s players show their humanity and lives away from rugby. Behind the scenes interviews and chats. Fun, insight, smiles.