Heavy medal

We're a funny bipolar nation, we Brits, when it comes to sport. Choosy, too. If the English football team suffers an early tournament exit (most times, it would appear) the UK's southern two-thirds self-immolates in a wretch of doom and gloom. But when Wales goes further in the Euros than their easterly neighbour has in twenty years, all of a sudden everyone is Welsh. In a similar vein, if Andy Murray loses - he's a "moody Scots git" to everyone below Hadrian's Wall; but if Murray wins he's suddenly the greatest subject these islands has produced since Churchill.

Not far from these observations is the British brand of pessimism, which burns more brightly when it comes to sport. In one form it manifests itself in stark contrast to our American cousins, who revel in success and the path to it, whereas we Brits regard success with suspicion and, once achieved, even contempt. As is often remarked about the British press - they'll build you up and then knock you down. Whereas in America they just keep building.

So how should we be feeling this particular Monday? "Bloody brilliant", should be the collective reply. I won't invite an actual response, but with the Rio Olympics ending last night, and Team Great Britain closing its account with second place in the medal table, behind the United States, obviously, but in front of China, we have much to be genuinely thrilled about - even if, naturally, we weren't expecting to be.

Before the games began British media attention was mostly focused on what was expected to go wrong in Rio, or already had: Zika, terrorism, crime, unfinished stadiums, drugs, infrastructure and poverty. Thankfully Team GB's incredible haul of 27 gold, 23 silver and 17 bronze medals has at least cleared the decks for something infinitely more uplifting - pictures of Mo Farah, surely one of athletics' greatest personalities; the women's hockey team after their golden goal penalty success (see, it can happen...!); Sir Bradley Wiggins - now a member of that exclusive club to have earned five Olympic gold medals; Laura Trott and her fellow women cyclists, oh, and her husband-to-be Jason Kenny; Hannah Mills and Saskia Clark on the water and Nicola Adams in the ring; Nick Skelton at the age of 58 and having been almost invalided out of showjumping; and Justin Rose and Andy Murray - multi-millionaire professional sportsmen, perhaps, - but in their respective gold medal-winning efforts, invoked the suspense and excitement that Olympic sport is supposed to be about.

Twitter/Team GB

In winning 67 medals, Team GB appeared on the podium more times than ever previously on foreign soil. Not only that, but Britain became the first nation to win more medals in an Olympics immediately after hosting one. So, now the analysis begins as to why: inevitably, we must endure some homespun awkwardness about what it has taken to get to such a lofty position, with gold medals in 15 sports - more than any other country - and, alphabetically, from athletics to tennis. Because let's not beat about the bush, money - yes, vulgar money - has played a clear part. And that's something we don't like talking about in Britain.

In becoming, a "sporting superpower", as Liz Nicholl, the head of the UK body responsible for funneling state money to the Olympic sports yesterday branded us, Great Britain has transformed itself into something globally unrecognisable. It has enjoyed plenty of medal success before at the Olympics and delivered plenty of enduring champions, but considering that in 1996 in Atlanta Britain produced just one gold medal and ended up 36th in the medal table, to come second this time around with more medals than even official targets had set, is nothing short of remarkable.

John Major's Tory government may have been swept out of power in 1997 as a result of a series of sleeze cases (which ironically included elite bedroom gymnastics), but it was Major who launched the National Lottery, creating the funding basis for British Olympic sport. The Blair government continued the effort, and by the Sydney games, state funding had risen from just £5 million pre-Atlanta to £54 million for the 2000 event - where Britain won 28 medals and came 10th in the table. For London 2012, with the nation looking on with both pride and trepidation (yes, the pessimism streek once more), Team GB was being funded to the tune of £264 million. The level since has risen even higher, to almost £350 million for both the Olympic and Paralympic sports.

So what has made the difference? Runners, swimmers, cyclists and their teammates in other disciplines are still getting up at 4am to train every day; "sacrifice" is still the predominant word used to describe what goes on over the course of four years between games. But it's what goes on around these athletes that makes the difference: the training facilities at home and abroad, the armies of sports scientists, even the luxury of a bespoke location for the team camp in Rio itself played a part in Britain's overall success.

Twitter/Team GB

Is this buying a title, to use football parlance? Well, in a way, obviously it is. But whereas in football we get tied up in envy and avarice at the rows of gleaming foreign supercars at club training grounds owned by young men barely out of boyhood, and put it down to market forces, we view any signs of wealth attached to Olympian endeavour as something less worthy. We're never satisfied, but perhaps now we will be. The money, invested well in Britain's Olympic effort, will produce a legacy of sorts.

There are still questions from some quarters about the legacy of 2012 in terms of the facilities built, but if the unprecedented success of these most recent games and their predecessor inspires the next generation to follow in the cycle tracks, pool wake and running spike marks of the current generation, sport and the nation will be so much better off.

We used to sit fuming at the telly when we saw Communist nations winning things with suspicious muscularity, so for a country of 65-odd million people to come second behind the US of A, and ahead of the most populated country on the planet, we should be hanging up bunting and inviting our neighbours to street parties over what has been achieved by everyone - Lottery players included - who have contributed to Team GB's success this time around.

Sometimes I do wonder whether we Brits really know how to enjoy ourselves. The run-up to London 2012 began with concerns about the public transport system working and anti-aircraft missiles being installed on tower blocks in Hackney. But for that August, we went about with siles on our faces, and ended both the London Olympics and Paralympics with big, broad smiles on our faces, everyone, more or less, in agreement that they'd just witnessed the greatest event of their lives. Today, we should be doing the same. Even if thing weren't perfect in Rio (you know, green water, woefully half-empty venues, robberies and idiot swimmers claiming robberies), the last 17 days have still upheld the magic that all Olympics always turn out to be . Especially, but perhaps unusually, for us Brits.