Bowled over by the fortitude of Willie Wood
Willie Wood, I admire you. Sir, you have grit.
It's the heat. Thirty-five degrees in the middle of a big city is hot. And I wonder if this warm, sweaty climate might affect the British athletes.
Perhaps the sheer physics of a Delhi day have dissuaded some athletes - like Elena Baltacha who has just decided not to play - from coming and I find her decision sad given that the status of these games diminishes with each withdrawal.
But we took the media bus to the bowls practice area where the venerable Mr Wood was concentrating and bowling. He is about to take part in his eighth Commonwealth Games and as we baked his patience was a sight to behold.
TV crews from around the world waited to interview the most experienced campaigner we are ever likely to meet, while the Scottish men and women were trying to get used to an artificial surface that is slower than they might want.
His first Commonwealth Games were in 1974. I was just three at the time. Honest...
Willie, who is 72, likes the village. But, I thought, if Willie can do this in his seventies does anyone else really have an excuse?
How come a 72-year-old man can be prepared to compete under the fierce sun when others have called off? I don't quite get it.
I do see that tennis in this heat must be a strain yet there is something admirable about a 72 year-old man who can be prepared to try for a medal this way. It demanded a photo.
Matthew Pinsent's massive frame sat astride a chair in the Scottish section of the broadcast centre and, frankly, that lad should have been a rugby player.
Being Scots, we have been too shy to engage the man in conversation but will try to book him for a slot on one of our programmes. And we were too shy to ask him to get off our desk.
The stories of the day belonged to the fact that a cobra had been found at a venue, agents are offering "Escape Commonwealth Games" holidays to get out of Delhi, and there was fumigation, as if by flamethrower, of the athletes' village to kill mosquitoes.
It was my first ride on a "Tuk Tuk", those cute, three-wheeled taxis whose drivers have suicidal tendencies and I am glad to be alive.
Indian hospitality has been warm and genuine. Sure, some may point at a mindset that means that 10 minutes might mean an hour, but I like them.
The day, though, belongs to Willie Wood, who is "retired" if the booklets are to be believed. If he ever gets the freedom of Gifford, I will be first in the queue to shout: "Free Willie!"
Who would have thought that a 72-year-old man would show the way? I repeat, does any other athlete really have an excuse?