It had all the makings of a "cute'' front page picture.

One of the huge sea lions that frequent this area of the Argentinian coast had waddled ashore to bask in the late afternoon sun just as Sports Minister Pam Gordon happened to be passing by.

At the urging of friends, Pam edged closer to the 300-lb brown, furry animal -- the offical mascot of these Games -- as Bermuda Olympic Association president Austin Woods stood by with camera at the ready.

But a blink of the eye and thwack of his giant flipper suggested in no uncertain terms this was lion territory, and anybody who encroached did so at their own peril.

Sea lions aren't known for their ferocity, but prudent Pam was taking no chances. Uncharacteristically, the honourable Minister backed off.

Most asked question at these Games: "Does anyone round here know what the hell's going on?'' Certainly among the English-speaking athletes and officials there's been an awful lot of head scratching and raising of eyebrows.

Tuesday's first day of sailing was a prime example. Snipe entrant Stevie Dickinson finished his opening two races with the understanding that five more would follow. A press release, however, made it quite clear the Snipes would sail ten races, and Bermuda sailing manager Chuck Millican claimed that was the information he had been given.

But Dickinson had an ally in US sailing public relations officer Barby MacGowan who insisted the Snipes would sail just seven races.

As of last night, still nobody was quite sure which schedule would be followed.

It was a similar story with the Bermuda football team. Their first match against Chile was scheduled at 10.00 p.m. but kicked off at 8.00, and their second match against Brazil listed for 8.00 but kicked off at 10.00.

Watching football in Argentina is certainly more eventful than your regular Sunday afternoon at the Rec, PHC or BAA.

Armed guards with Perspex shields, guns and truncheons at the ready, border the pitch, the fans howl, yell and scream at every foul and aren't slow to show their appreciation whenever a team moves onto the attack.

But best of all are the South American TV commentators whose non-stop chatter seems to rise from one crescendo to the next culminating with the now obligatory scream of "Goooooooooaaaaaaaaaalllllllll'' every time the ball hits the back of the net.

Such excitement, however, has its embarrassing moments. The Chilean broadcaster watching his side score against Costa Rica no doubt had his listeners on their feet with a cry of "Gooooooooaaaaaaaaaalllll'' which lasted 15 seconds before he realised the offside flag had gone up.