By Stathi Paxinos
Have you heard of ice sledge hockey? Don't be embarrassed if you haven't. I hadn't before 2014. But, I have never forgotten it.
The mundane nature of many modern day mainstream sportspeople - a creation of spin doctors who seem to see a threat in anything that could been conceived as interesting - makes it hard to sometimes focus on what's been great about reporting on sport.
Fight club: The Age's Stathi Paxinos (left) gets to grips with a local Kabaddi expert.Credit: Penny Stephens
But Sledge hockey was unforgettable. It was at the Sochi Winter Paralympics that I witnessed it for the first time and I was entranced. The action was brutal. The participants colourful and unabashed. In the world of summer Paralympic sports, wheelchair rugby revels in its reputation of hardness. How else do you get the nickname "Murderball".
Still, to my eyes even that sport could not match the ferocity and intent on the ice. And what sort of intent was that? Well, as far as I could tell at times players simply seem to want to hurt each other (although they often serve a two-minute penalty off the ice as a result).
Illustration: Mick Connolly.
That of course is not what it was about, nor what sport in general should be about. However it made for one tough sport.
Mike Doyle, a member of the 1998 Nagano Games team, said: "It's not a game for sissies".
My report at the time brings the passion back for me now: "In the stands which are pumping with patriotism and feisty vibes that are helped along by cheerleaders and a bag-pipe band blowing out favourites such as Queen's We Will Rock You and AC/DC's Thunderstruck."
I was lucky enough to cover summer (London, 2012) and winter (Sochi) Paralympic Games. The latter event was created as a way to help rehabilitate people who had sustained spinal injuries but has developed into a highly competitive and professional competition. That was to be expected when you consider the millions of dollars that come the way of countries with successful programs.
Athletes have become more professional and standards have gone through the roof, but unfortunately as with so many other things where money and ambition is on the line, it has not been immune from various forms of politics and cheating.
Let's hope that the dark stories we have seen revealed in the Australian Olympic Committee in recent times is taken as a cautionary tale for all sporting administrators.
Being top of the tree in sporting officialdom is not a licence to bring the worst excesses of business culture to what should be a noble arena. It will always be the athlete's stories that should be remembered and their willingness to tell them.
This is something that mainstream sport could - and should - learn. There are so many great stories embedded into the fabric of sport. Ones such as that of Michael Cowdrey, Kurt Fearnley and Jacqui Freney that go beyond who won on the field.
And they are ones that fans want to hear. They are the exalted ones, for good reason.
Mainstream sport has, to some extent, forgotten this truth, with the hordes of so-called media spokespeople attempting to spin and control every bit of information - especially to the wider public.
Many organisations run well-oiled publicity departments that feed members only what they want them to know.
The way NRL team Melbourne Storm, once one of the most accessible clubs, shut up shop in the immediate aftermath to the salary cap scandal that cost them two premierships is a prime example.
Then there are the bittersweet moments when greatness and sports writers meet as one.
One year ago, I detailed the mayhem I witnessed when, as a cadet reporter, I was given my dream assignment of covering Muhammad Ali's visit to Melbourne in 1998. It was written to a deadline in the aftermath of the boxing's great's death last year.
And I wrote: "Journalists can be guilty of forgetting the privileged berths that we often hold to the world's events. In sport particularly, the extraordinary can easily seem ordinary: another game to cover, another sportsperson to interview. But Ali was different. Here were seasoned journalists acting like giddy groupies. In two decades, I have not again witnessed that happen to that extent of that September day in 1998".
As a journalist I have had the opportunity to cover sports around the world - Olympic, Paralympic and Commonwealth Games and swimming world titles. Add to that league, union, AFL, swimming, boxing, motor sport, tennis among others and it has been far more than a shy teenager who grew up in Brisbane could ever have imagined.
Among these big events there was also the times that I spoke to people about the art of Kabaddi, and Trugo - the magical game invented by railway workers in Melbourne's western suburbs. Again don't be embarrassed if these are unfamiliar to you. Please though, seek them out and even play them if you get a chance.
There are other things though that have lost their shine for me. I lost interest in some sports during the past two decades. I refuse to support racing of animals and boxing is now a pale imitation of the sport it once was.
Still, like any sporting participant who has had a shot at the title I always return to one question: How lucky have I been? Clearly, the answer is - bloody lucky.
Stathi Paxinos is a senior editor and jack-of-all-trades reporter. This was his final column.