WITH the Olympics in Athens now just a distant memory, the television viewer’s attention moves forward to Cheltenham and competition for the highly coveted title of International King of Sports 2004. Events in Greece may have proved something of a distraction when International King of Sports officially opened last week on Five, and it’s perfectly possible that the efforts of Kelly Holmes, say, seemed of greater moment to the nation than the height at which some extremely fit but totally unknown bloke from Hungary could jump into a pool and still keep his head above the water. For the remaining five Tuesdays, though, International King of Sports has the stage to itself — apart from the one-day cricket, the football, the new rugby union season, Formula One, and so on.

The official term for jumping into a pool and trying to keep your hair dry, by the way, is Association Bobbage, and this hallowed event has been practised for as long as an International King of Sports competition has taken place on British fields — one year. Other disciplines in which the competitors must prove themselves before being decreed worthy of the International King of Sports crown include the uphill long jump (a long jump, only up a hill) and the three metres sprint (a sprint, over three metres), which is, without hyperbole, billed as the fastest race in the world.

There’s also the speed-gun run (competitors run as fast as possible into an upended rubber mat), the water jump (a high jump, except on the edge of a pool) and the headlong jump, in which the athletes fling themselves face down into a sandpit. In the fourth heat, in a fortnight’s time, we are apparently going to see everyone take part in something called “international skids”. I don’t know what that is, but I do know that I am faintly worried about it.

Our presenter, Helen Chamberlain, cheerfully, but a little modestly, refers to these challenges as “made-up events”, with the implication that other, more commonly observed kinds of athletic speciality, such as the 100 metres hurdles or the 4 x 400 metres, are somehow organic or naturally occurring. But at some point they had to be made up, too, of course — especially hurdling — so this is perhaps an unnecessary piece of shyness on the programme’s part. It’s all fiction in the end.

Inevitably, all the talk in the run-up to this year’s IKS was about whether Cheltenham would be ready in time, with many naysayers implying that the town simply doesn’t have what it takes to stage an international sporting competition in the 21st century. But the organisers have again proved the critics emphatically wrong: the facilities are in place and the embarrassing spectre of the competition having to open with an incomplete sandpit has spectacularly failed to materialise. Even attendances seem to be up on last year, if memory serves. True, what is visible in the background during these shows doesn’t perhaps constitute a crowd so much as a smattering of bussed-in students. But the same went for Athens, most days.

IKS 2004 has attracted an unusually strong field, as well — although not so strong that you would automatically have heard of everyone. Competing on Tuesday was James Christie, who is Linford’s nephew and who, true to his bloodline, took the three metres sprint in a time of 0.84sec. “There’s obviously no time for commentary,” Alan Parry said, finding yet another reason to admire this simple and yet endlessly fascinating event.

Beyond Christie, the claims to fame grew less audible, unless you watched IKS 2003. Hugo Myburgh, of South Africa, is, apparently, better known as “the Human Rhinoceros”. But he’s not particularly well-known as the Human Rhinoceros, either. And that’s even after setting a world record in the speed-gun run in 2003 and bettering it under pressure from Christie in 2004. Myburgh must wonder what a man has to do.

A top-class field, though, is only to be expected given the honour that is on offer. International King of Sports is, after all, the only sporting contest bequeathing its victor accession to a regal title, with the exception, obviously, of the King of the Jungle crown available to the winner of I’m A Celebrity — Get Me Out Of Here! But the winner’s domain, in that case, is restricted to an unwanted patch of camera-infested Australian rainforest, whereas the winner of IKS gets to reign internationally — a pretty much unheard-of concept since the age of the Roman Empire and not to be sneered at.

Thus we await further developments with baited breath. Also with gritted teeth: Myburgh spoke this week about “going balls to the wall”, and the dreadful possibility hovers that he was referring to an event we haven’t yet seen.

Away from the real world, a BBC news crew tracked Wayne Rooney to Old Trafford, where he was signing autographs for his new fans. “Wayne, how does it feel to be a United player?” a reporter asked. “Bgllll,” Wayne said. And on that concise note, a new era began. The BBC saw it mostly as a story about betrayed loyalty. “In football, everyone has their price,” Sally Nugent trenchantly concluded. That’s sadly true. And how unlike broadcasting, in this respect. They do it for love, you know.

GILES SMITH RETURNS ON SATURDAY