Keely wins gold for Team GB and Noah wins gold for the USA.

Keely wins gold for Team GB and Noah wins gold for the USA.

With her blonde pony tails dancing in the early evening Parisian breeze, Keely Hodgkinson captured the hearts and imaginations of the great British public, grabbing gold for Team GB once again. Somehow we were almost expecting another night of the gold standard for a Great Britain team who have now become extremely blase and conditioned to success after success after yet more success.

We have now moved onto the athletics track in Paris 2024 and we're in fruitful territory for Team GB. Already acclaimed as one of the most stunning middle distance runners in modern times, we had no reason to believe that a gold medal for Hodgkinson would be no more than some wild fantasy or the impossible dream that was just agonisingly out of her reach. Hodgkinson was already a World Champion par excellence, an athlete of outstanding quality, modesty personified and without any hint of brash arrogance or blustering bombast.

Keely Hodgkinson just lined up as usual on a mauve athletics track in the Olympic Stadium at the Stade De France where, normally, rugby union takes precedence to any other sporting distraction. She was nerveless, poised, in complete command of her emotions and oblivious to the threat that she might just be beaten. There is a warm reverence for Hodgkinson that goes well beyond the normal expectations of British athletes. We demanded a gold medal last night and we were not to be disappointed.

Last night, Hodgkinson smiled for the camera innocently, blowing flirtatious kisses and holding up cute love heart gestures with her fingers to all and sundry. She knew she had this one wrapped up, signed, sealed and delivered, a gold medal around her neck, the podium hers to milk the rapturous applause from a Parisian public who perhaps reluctantly acknowledged that a Brit had won on French soil. It used to be regarded as somehow forbidden, a taboo subject that should always be swept under the carpet and then passed off as shameful.

Here the fierce rivalry between France and England has been well documented. The stereotypes are now well established and set in stone. The French are simply those deeply unpleasant men who cycle down country lanes with berets on their head, bags of onions on their bikes and the repulsive smell of garlic on their breaths. They get all hot under the collar when Britain do something that they may regard as just distasteful and repellent. But that's just all balderdash and poppycock, nonsense. It's all a matter of opinion, though.

Last night was about something much more than parochial needle between the French and the British. It was a night for almost ceremonial gusto for British athletes, the inevitable coronation and very public appointment of a genuine superstar. Keely was the girl next door, bubbly, buoyant, winsome, feminine and just very natural. There were no airs or graces about Hodgkinson because that isn't the way she does an Olympic Games 800 metres Final. This was the ultimate reward for early mornings, relentless perseverance, pushing herself beyond all limits and a tireless figure who just adores her sport.

She reminded you of those other golden Olympian girls from years gone by. There was the blonde, powerful and enchanting Mary Peters who won gold at the tragic Olympic Games of Munich 1972. There was Anne Packer, who ran like a dream for Great Britain in the Tokyo Olympics of 1964. She was Britain's finest Olympian, an irresistible force of nature and just about the most polished athlete Team GB has produced for many a year.

And so it was that the Olympian girls stood next to each other, heads perfectly balanced, eyes fixed enthusiastically on the task at hand and only one objective on their minds. But Hodgkinson was prepared, measured, controlled, composed, enlightened and an exemplary role model for her generation. There was a look of knowing, savoir faire as they say in Paris, discipline in every muscle and bone, a sense of patriotic obligation about her that allowed for no error or horrific lapses of concentration.

For most of these Olympics, the likes of Hodgkinson have been perfect representatives in one of the most prestigious sporting festivals in the world. She has conducted herself with the dainty dignity  and decorum that most of us had assumed would always be the case. She has answered questions in probing press conferences with clarity and honesty. She has never shirked away from the often unbearable pressures that can so often destroy British athletes. She is one of the most uplifting ambassadors for Team GB, shrewd, understated but quietly confident as we knew she would be.

And so the gun went for the 800 metres and Hodgkinson made immediately for the front of the huddle of  girls who spent the entire race, jockeying for position, shoulder to shoulder, moving in and out of each other warily, changing laps almost constantly, watching each other with a fascinating vigilance, monitoring the other's movement like hawks. Then Keely gingerly stepped up the pace from third, fourth or even further back. There was a vivid meeting of great minds, Olympians respectfully avoiding the traffic, before floating effortlessly between each other, waiting for the right moment, timing their sprint finish and then holding back, withdrawing from the front again. It was chess on an athletics track, a staggering display of patience, cunning and strategy.

Now the cream of the crop rose to the surface. There was Tsige Dugama, from Ethiopia, the country who just keep turning out Marathon geniuses because that's their forte. There was Mary Moraa from Kenya who also find themselves on Olympian podiums because their kids run to school in the morning and then race back home in the afternoon. All three girls began to pull away from the rest of the speed merchants and took it in turns as the 800metres Women's Final approached its enthralling conclusion. Suddenly Hodgkinson, Dugama and Moraa kicked for the finishing line crucially and vitally and, before you could blink, Keely from GB, had this one in her pocket, lengthening her stride handsomely and just streaking away from her pursuers. The gold was hers but we just had that feeling in our water, anyway.

In the end, Hodgkinson did what all gold medals do, flinging their arms joyfully into the air, staring wide eyed with utter amazement at the electronic scoreboard and discovering that perhaps he'd broken another record. The purple track was just a vision of fluttering Union Jacks, Team GB just revelling in the moment, admiring both the brilliance and simple virtuosity that only Hodgkinson could have provided. It was her evening, her moment to show off, waving elatedly at all and sundry. The smile was electric and nobody could begrudge her unbridled joy. Keely had won gold. It was her richly deserved reward. We had no need to worry. This one was in the bag, no sweat, job well done. 

We then recalled the men's 100 metres Final a couple of days before. We still felt privileged to be part of Usain Bolt's wondrous and stupendous feats on the track for Jamaica. We thought Bolt was unbeatable, invincible, unsurpassable and unquestionable. Bolt used to spring from his starting block in an Olympic Games 100 metres Final as if his life depended on it. The whole contest was over in seconds because those long legs would eat up the track in no time. Bolt was a human cheetah, body straight as an arrow, legs like the proverbial tree trunks, surging towards the finishing line and just winning by several hundred country miles.

In Paris 2024, it was the turn of Noah Lyles to become the new Olympic champion for the United States of America. Before the 100 metres Final, Lyles leapt from the tunnel of assembled athletes like a man who was out on a cross country run and knew he'd win the race with his eyes closed. He started jumping and bouncing across the track, like the kid who'd just been released from school for the  summer holiday. Or maybe he was just enjoying the whole occasion. Most kids probably feel as though they've been freed from academic captivity and that's exactly what might have been going through Lyles mind.

Lyles had for esteemed company Kishane Thompson from Jamaica and Fred Kerley. Lyles reminded you of the man who knew his superiority would never be challenged. He hunkered down on his starting blocks, finger tips on the line, head tilted forward in eager anticipation because he knew he had this one sewn up. What followed was one of the closest, most fiercely contested men's 100 metres Final you could ever have witnessed. Whereas Bolt would have left most of his contemporaries lagging behind as if they weren't there, Lyles did run powerfully and highly impressively and there was only an arm or elbow between the eight men. 

But Lyles just plunged over the finishing line, arms raised but, for a moment, held in suspense. Then the scoreboard revealed him to be the gold medal winner. The Stars and Stripes were soon flaunted and the celebrations could begin in earnest. The USA had done it again but this was the most intriguing Olympics 100 metres sprint that we'd ever seen. Lyles was an Olympic champion and the bouquets of lavish praise could be his to just immerse himself in.

Meanwhile back in the gymnastics hall, Team GB seemed to bid farewell to one of its all time heroes. Max Whitlock has been one of Britain's greatest Olympic gymnasts. He's been a multiple gold medal winner but in Paris 2024, there would be grave disappointment, utter frustration and a feeling of shuddering anti climax. Whitlock missed out on the medal podium this time and the look of helpless sadness and regret could only be imagined. Still, none of us would ever forget his sterling contribution to British gymnastics. 

And so it is that the Paris Olympics of 2024 will continue to roll on forward with a deferential nod to tradition. Generally speaking, this has been an excellent Olympics with only the occasional moments of controversy to overshadow it. But if you're a member of Team GB, then the world may be your oyster. There are now four days left before the closing ceremony and the completion of another Games. Apart from a forgettable opening ceremony, sport has flourished and sportsmanship has cleaned up on the medal count. We can only but extend the warmest gratitude to Britain's fastest and strongest.