I don’t consider myself one of those old fogeys who are stuck in their ways and hate any change. I’m all for change if it’s for the better — but I don’t agree with change just for the sake of change.

I eagerly anticipate very few things, but the World Cup and Olympics are at the top of my list. These events bring together the world’s best athletes who have dedicated countless hours to hard training in the hope of standing on the podium and receiving a medal.

When an athlete achieves this, it brings not only joy and pride to them, but also to every citizen of the country they represent. Here in Bermuda, we have experienced this national pride twice — with Clarence Hill and Dame Flora Duffy. It’s a remarkable feeling.

My wife told me if laziness were an Olympic sport, I would come fourth so I wouldn’t even have to walk up to the podium.

While browsing the schedule of events to see what I wanted to watch, I noticed my favourite sports such as boxing, swimming and track and field. Since my wife had gone to her bridge club, I had control of the TV. At last, I could watch what I wanted, but I had to keep turning up the volume as she complained about something I did or didn’t do.

Just the other day, my wife criticised me, saying, “It’s rude of me to yawn while she is speaking.” I replied, “I wasn’t yawning; I thought it was my turn to speak” — but I digress.

Anyway, I was finishing my list of must-see events when something caught my eye. My first reaction was that it must be a mistake, but then I saw it again: “Breaking.”

Is this an old sport that archaeologists digging in Olympia, Greece, have rediscovered? Was it found painted on a piece of Greek pottery, and the decision was to put it in the Games? Were we about to see an ancient sport resurrected? This sounded like a real man’s sporting event, breaking. I became pretty intrigued by it, so I just had to watch.

The day arrived for the anticipated event. I opened a beer, grabbed a bag of nacho chips, sat down and turned on the TV. A comedy show came on, and I wondered if it was the new Three Stooges. For some reason, someone had fallen and was having trouble getting back up, spinning on their head and rolling on their back, grabbing a foot. There was also a guy on the sidelines watching who was not helping our fallen casualty.

“What the hell is going on?” I asked myself. Did I have the wrong day? Did I have the wrong channels? I checked and rechecked, and it wasn’t until I saw the judges scoring the event that it hit me. This was now considered a sport! When did this happen? Who was to blame? To whom do I send my angry e-mail?

It became clear that some competitors didn’t take this event seriously; there was some girl from Down Under named Raygun, whose routine involved mimicking some swim routine, an impersonation of a kangaroo, and a stance from the Karate Kid movie — at the end of her performance, she got a score of zero points. No surprise there.

It is a shame that the Australian teams did very well — they came fourth overall in the gold-medal count — but all their achievements will be overshadowed, and the talk of the town will be about the Aussie that looked like a fish flapping around out of water.

Breaking is an artistic form of expression, not a sport. I do understand the International Olympic Committee is looking for ways to attract younger audiences to the Games; hence, the introduction of breaking. However, if we don’t stop some of these events from making it to the Olympics, we are about to open floodgates, which will take away from the traditional games.