I couldn’t be bothered with the Commonwealth Games.
After the World Cup, Wimbledon, the Tour De France and a Test cricket series, there wasn’t the stomach for another emotion-draining set of heroes and heroines ‘going for gold’.
The early signs weren’t that good either.
Lots of rusting cranes on TV set against the Glasgow skyline and contrasted with bold art galleries, fresh faces and new stadiums for the ‘Friendly Games’ in the Friendly City’.
My first time in Glasgow was to see Scotland v England at Hampden Park in 1976.
It wasn’t particularly friendly then, as I recall.
The Hampden roar used to be the visceral howl of 137,000 inebriated England-hating Scots rather than the glorified school-sports-day atmosphere of a Commonwealth Games.
The repackaging of sport for respectable consumption is one of the many changes since those dark days.
And that, overwhelmingly, is a very good thing.
But the Disneyesque, stage-managed cheerfulness, the post London 2012 Games fatigue and the over-hyped TV coverage makes the whole thing so bloody marvellous you can hardly stand it.
Well more fool me.
Watching the highlights on Sunday I was embarrassed that anyone who professes to love sport could be so short-sighted and lazy as to ignore the Games.
Seeing one minute of tearful swimmers, ecstatic cyclists, sobbing sprinters and Usain Bolt taking selfies for kids in the crowd was enough.
How dare anyone hold so cheap the best efforts of thousands from all over the world that they can’t be bothered bother to watch?
How could any anyone ignore the towering achievements and terrible disappointments of so many?
The best Games ever?
Who knows? Who cares?
But once again sport proved that it portrays humanity at its very best - striving to win, respectful of others less talented, bringing people together.
The collective goodwill created by these and other games is always something to celebrate and revere.
Everyone knows that.