Olympic flame that lit the blue touch paper

Tibet...Darfur...human rights...even before the Olympic torch was lit, the Beijing Games ignited one form of protest and controversy after another. It must have been so much more genteel 100 years ago, you might imagine, when King Edward VII opened the first London Olympics. Ha! Allow me to disabuse you of that fond notion; the Games of the IV Olympiad were among the most contentious in the history of the Olympic "family".

Originally awarded to Rome, Baron Pierre de Coubertin was forced to seek another venue for his sporting garden party when the Italian government had to divert their entire Olympic budget to aid the citizens of Naples following the catastrophic eruption of Mount Vesuvius in 1906. Suitably impressed by Great Britain's ability to stage Wimbledon, the AAAs athletics championships and the Henley Royal Regatta, the good Baron promptly invited London to "save the Games".

It all began so promisingly; the Great Stadium (as the White City was originally known) in Shepherd's Bush was a modern wonder of the sports world with its sweeping running track- three laps to the metric mile - ringed by a 600-metre cycling track. The infield housed a 100m pool, complete with a diving board that could be lowered so as not to obstruct the 68,000 spectators' view. Spread across six months from April to October to allow time for all manner of seemingly incongruous events such as running deer shooting (no, I am not making this up), figure skating, polo, lacrosse, tug-of-war, rugby, motor-boat racing and jeu de paume (real tennis), the London Olympics began in suitably dignified manner with a service in St Paul's Cathedral.

"The important thing in the Olympic Games is not to win, but to participate," Bishop Ethelbert Talbot of Philadelphia told his congregation. "That's a good line," you can hear de Coubertin mutter to himself. "I'll have that." Trouble began before a single running deer could be shot when American flag-bearer Ralph Rose refused to dip the Stars and Stripes as he passed the Royal Box during the Opening Ceremony, later explaining: "This flag dips to no earthly king."

Every American, so it seemed, was bent on confrontation; they pulled out (sorry) of the tug-of-war when their wily opponents, the City of Liverpool Constabulary, came up with clever wheeze of attaching steel spikes to the soles of their boots to provide extra grip, while on the athletics' track, the final of the men's 400m involving three Americans and a lone Brit - the delightfully named Wyndham Hallswelle - generated into farce.

JC Carpenter crossed the line first, only to be disqualified for "interfering" with Wyndham Halswelle, the two countries having different rules about what constituted obstruction. When the judges ordered a rerun after a lengthy deliberation, the American trio refused to take part, leaving Halswelle to circle the track on his own to win the gold medal. Australia, too, were a nation up in arms when their legendary boxer, "Snowy" Baker lost the middleweight gold medal to Britain's JWHT Douglas on a split decision, the casting vote being given by the referee, who happened to be Douglas's father.

Perhaps London 1908's most enduring legacy came in the marathon, which was due to be run over 26 miles until King Edward and Queen Alexandra thought it would be jolly good fun to have the start line on the lawns of Windsor Castle, as a birthday present for one of their grandchildren, and the finish line right in front of the Royal Box in the White City - so the course was lengthened by 385 yards as a treat for the royal tot.

The race itself has gone down in Olympic legend. Entering the stadium with a 600m lead over American Johnny Hayes, Italian pastry cook Dorando Pietri was in obvious distress when he turned the wrong way down the track and had to be coaxed in the right direction. After a few yards, Pietri - small, grey-haired and moustachioed - collapsed in an untidy heap, rose and fell again, and again (five times according to newspaper reports) before being half-carried across the line by a kindly official. Disqualified after an American protest, Pietri became a global celebrity overnight.

Many years later, British athlete Joe Deakin, who won a gold medal in the three-mile team relay, provided a twist to the legend when he revealed: "The problem was that people along the pavement were giving him glasses of brandy instead of water. Pietri wasn't exhausted, he was drunk." Let the fun and games begin... @Email:sports@thenational.ae