Ni, 61, holds court in Paris
You hear all sorts of whispers at the Olympics; my favourite this year was about the 61-year-old grandmother Ni Xialian, who had an outside shot in the women’s table tennis. She won world titles for China in the early 1980s, then fell in love with another player, Tommy Danielsson, and moved to Luxembourg to run a hotel. She still plays and at this year’s Games she won her first match but lost to the world champion in the second. Afterwards, she spent a happy hour offering life advice to the assembled press. “I was worried if I was good enough, but if you never play, you’ll never know,” she said, “and as I always say: ‘I’m always younger today than I will be tomorrow.’” Andy Bull
Squash critic’s painful moment
I was in Surrey for a semi-professional squash tournament at a rather high-class country club, accompanying a good friend with plans to catch only a couple of matches. We ended up staying the entire day, bouncing between courts to watch as much action as possible. My highlight? A match between two talented juniors. The man to my left – a regular watcher – spent the entire game explaining in great detail how one of them was a prodigy with a terrible attitude. Apparently, the kid was a hothead, constantly swearing, refusing to finish games, and arguing with anyone in earshot. At match point, after a nail-biting rally, he won and the woman sitting to my right nearly burst my eardrum with a scream of joy. Turns out she was his mother, and had overheard every criticism. The look on the man’s face had me biting my cheek to stop me from laughing. Yara El-Shaboury
Palmer keeps his head amid mayhem
Cole Palmer’s reputation for nonchalance, for having ice in his veins, is well earned. But who did not smile at his reaction to the brawl at the end of his Chelsea team’s 1-1 draw with Nottingham Forest at Stamford Bridge in October? When the visiting substitute Nico Williams barged Marc Cucurella into the Chelsea manager, Enzo Maresca, it all kicked off, players and staff from both sides pushing, shoving and generally being angry. Palmer merely popped himself down on the turf, his slow rock back before coming to a motionless seated position the equivalent of a yawn. He took it in from the periphery. All that was missing was the popcorn. David Hytner
Hassan’s marathon milestone in Paris
Covering the women’s marathon live and watching Sifan Hassan’s emotional finish to claim the gold medal was such a special moment as she became the first woman to win medals in the 5,000, 10,000 and the marathon at a single Olympics. Her elation was utterly infectious and it was my highlight of the Olympics, which was full of heartwarming moments. Her post-race interview was also full of joy, which made it impossible not to smile at her achievement. She said: “It is unbelievable. I have never experienced anything like that.” An inspirational athlete for the next generation. Sarah Rendell
Klopp’s reign ends: smiling because it happened
All good things come to an end but some good things end too soon, as Liverpool supporters can attest, having had to deal with Jürgen Klopp’s departure this year. The German’s announcement in late January that he was leaving the club after nine years in charge came as a shock and made the remainder of the season an emotionally draining experience, culminating in Klopp’s final game – the visit of Wolves to Anfield on the last day of the campaign. Entering the ground, I wasn’t the only one who wanted to be anywhere else. It was all too much. All too upsetting. But then came the transformation of a wake into a party as Klopp said goodbye in the only way he knew how – with a big grin, a few laughs and a few fist-pumps. It was perfect, and walking away from Anfield that afternoon another saying came to mind: don’t cry because it’s over, smile because it happened. Danke Jürgen. Sachin Nakrani
Action hero Kim aims high
A definition of aura in the dictionary might as well have an illustration of Kim Ye-ji next to it. The iconic video of the South Korean shooter at the 25m pistol final at the ISSF World Cup has to be my sporting highlight of 2024. The backwards cap, the flip of cyberpunk-style shooting glasses and the general display of nonchalance at setting a world record encouraged someone on X to say: “She should be cast in an action movie. No acting required!” The best part of the story is that she did. Kim played an assassin in Crush. Xaymaca Awoyungbo
The enduring magic of Marta
Watching the Brazil great Marta roll back the years as she twisted her way through the Kansas City Current defence in October to help fire her Orlando Pride side to the NWSL playoff finals, putting four opponents on their backsides in the process, it was impossible not to crack a smile. It was not only a mesmerising goal but also fitting that this iconic player and formerly the best player in the world, who had spent eight years with the same club without seeing silverware, should score such a goal on her way to the NWSL title. Tom Garry
The roar that greeted Duplantis’s record
I didn’t actually see Armand Duplantis set the pole vault world record in Paris. Hearing it was enough to serve as a moment in time. He had been making a mockery of the competition all evening at the Stade de France and the creation of history felt inevitable. I was running down an internal stairwell, bound for the Olympic mixed zone, to grab some pre-deadline quotes from another athlete, when the shuddering roar went up. I knew precisely, instantly, what it was: Duplantis had cleared 6.25m. Footballers can receive adulation like that every week. Duplantis has such brief spells in the public consciousness. The sound, the scale of reception that met his marquee moment, was worth a smile. Ewan Murray
Risking safety while hailing Hodgkinson
Like millions of others across the globe, I was struck by Olympic fever this summer. From skateboarding to BMX, diving to gymnastics – whatever the sport, I probably had it on my TV screen at some point in July and August. But one moment captivated me more than any other – Keely Hodgkinson’s 800m gold medal. Having spent the whole day in London, I had to watch on my phone … while stepping off the train and walking across the car park of my local station. Of course, for safety reasons I wouldn’t recommend it, but I wasn’t going to miss GB’s first Olympic track title in eight years. Emillia Hawkins
A fraternal Ferrari gesture to Norris
It took Lando Norris 110 races before he finally secured his debut Formula One win and in no little style at the Miami Grand Prix. Afterwards the celebrations at McLaren went long and went hard at their hospitality on the pitch of the Miami Dolphins’ Hard Rock Stadium. When Norris and the team assembled for the traditional winner’s photo it was heaving but there, quietly joining the throng of snappers at the front, was the Ferrari team principal, Fred Vasseur, to show his respect and celebrate Norris’s long-overdue success. He happily donned a McLaren hat, doubtless to the consternation of the Scuderia’s corporate suits, then with the picture taken he could barely restrain himself from popping the champagne he had brought along with him all over Norris. In a sport of often petty point-scoring and politicking it was the gesture of a warm and empathetic human being and an all-round good sport. Giles Richards
A friend of mine is the unpaid, volunteer manager, head coach, director of football, set-piece guru, kit man and physio of a grassroots football team attached to a reasonably well-known London club. His son plays for them and luckily, his footballing prowess ensures that his would be the first name on the teamsheet even if his dad wasn’t the gaffer. At one point during the middle of their season, my friend met me for a drink and I asked how things were going with his team. He proceeded to embark on an angst-ridden 20-minute long soliloquy detailing the trauma of having to deal with baseless accusations of nepotism, the allocation of game time for fringe players, the difficulty of releasing players come season’s end, the abuse to which referees are subjected by spectators during games and a rival team’s use of GPS. While the content of his rant was largely depressing, I couldn’t help but smile. His son is nine. Barry Glendenning
New Zealand’s underdog triumph
It could have been Chris Woakes sending down village green off-spin in a Test match due to a bad light farce, or Brydon Carse, the big strapping fast bowler, recalling the time his little sister poured soap into his fish tank because she thought they needed a bath (RIP Nemo and co). But the biggest smile was the New Zealand team celebrating their underdog triumph in the women’s T20 World Cup, having gone into the campaign off the back of 10 straight defeats. Led by player of the tournament Melie Kerr on guitar, the entire squad gave a rendition of the Maori folk song ‘E te Iwi E’ to honour their outgoing captain, Sophie Devine. Find it, press play, and let the warm fuzzy feelings flow. Ali Martin
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Slot maintains sweary traditions at Anfield
Arne Slot’s honesty and humour have been somewhat overlooked, possibly because of the character he replaced or Liverpool’s outstanding results, but the former was very much in evidence when explaining the yellow card he received at Arsenal in October. “I said to Ibou [Konaté]: ‘This is a fucking joke,’” said Slot, referring to Arsenal’s time-wasting tactics. “The fourth official thought I said: ‘You are a fucking joke.’ This is definitely not what I said but I got a yellow card for that.” The funniest part was the discomfort of the Liverpool press officer next to Slot in the press conference, as it dawned on him that the days of telling his boss to mind his language had not ended with the departure of Jürgen Klopp. Andy Hunter
Toby the Terminator climbs high in family affections
In my professional life I did more than smile at Oli Watkins’s late winner against the Dutch in the semi-final of the Euros; in fact, it sent me doolally. Equally, in Paris, I teared up at watching Gordon Reid and Alfie Hewett claim long-deserved gold in the Paralympic wheelchair tennis doubles. But personally speaking, the smile came during the Olympics, as my five-year-old son and I watched the climber Toby “the Terminator” Roberts boulder his way to gold. It was a new competitive sport for both of us and one we could each understand at the first time of viewing, not an easy feat. But more compelling still, the protagonist looked like a boy and was acting out the kind of fantasies of freedom and exhilaration and sheer derring-do that a lot of younger children imagine for themselves. My son was absolutely gripped, in a way I had never seen him lock on to someone before. I, meanwhile, was quietly thrilled. Paul MacInnes
Wade lets rip to remind us of darts’ relatability
James Wade has just thrown the winning dart against Callan Rydz. Walks back to his table. There’s no crowd at Pro Tour tournaments, and Wade may not even be aware that his match is being livestreamed. So he splays his legs a little. Takes a little guilty look left, right. Lets rip. And, with all due apologies for lowering the tone, it’s moments such as these that make darts the greatest, most human, most relatable sport in the world. Have you ever heard Lionel Messi break wind? Have you ever heard Roger Federer break wind? Well, they do. They just don’t let on. Jonathan Liew
My boy’s long-overdue last-minute winner
These days my Sunday mornings are spent watching my five-year-old son’s weekly football sessions. The coaches seem to spend a lot of time despairing at their bunching up during practice games but it’s just a bit of fun. Right? Because one day I was watching my boy and he seemed a bit unfocused during a drill. Did he actually like being there? It had been two months and he still hadn’t scored a goal in one of the big games. But just as I was contemplating a different hobby for him, he got the ball on the right and he started running. He went past one, then two, then kicked it in from about three yards to make it 3-2 to his team in the last minute. Proud father doesn’t begin to cover it. Jacob Steinberg
Leach’s farewell: county cricket at its best
It was 29 September, the last day of the County Championship season. The winners and the relegated were decided, at New Road players were warming up in woolly hats, fielding with handwarmers in their pockets. The Worcestershire bowler Joe Leach was retiring after 13 years and 469 first-class wickets at the club. As he marched out to bat for one final time, the club unexpectedly blasted his theme song, Dolly Parton’s Jolene (“Joe Leach …”) over the tinny PA system, and Leach had a little cry. It was heartfelt and funny and, on a day full of goodbyes, reminded everyone watching of the sense of belonging that county cricket – at its best – can produce. Tanya Aldred
Guardiola’s baffled expression
Monday 13 May, and, as usual in media conferences, after listening to Pep Guardiola’s answers, inspiration hits. Manchester City are second, one point behind Arsenal, having played a game fewer. Tomorrow’s trip to Tottenham is their match in hand before Sunday’s final-day hosting of West Ham. If City lose at Spurs the title is Arsenal’s to lose, while a draw gives City an edge due to better goal difference. So, I ask: “As Sir Alex Ferguson referred to this phase of the season as ‘squeaky bum time’ will you and the players experience the same?” Cue a baffled Guardiola expression, copious media corps laughter, and much confusion as the expression was explained. Jamie Jackson
Palestinian athletes freed by sport
Positioned at the front of the boat, running down the Seine, a small congregation gathers to wave their flags and cheer. They are just like any other nation, joyous to be in Paris, at the Olympic Games. Their smiles are a brief moment to embrace. Eight athletes will represent Palestine over the coming days, their athletic endeavours a distraction from the endless destruction. Later in the summer, there will be one representative at the Paralympics, the Gaza-born Fadi Aldeeb who competes in the shot put. “We are freed in Gaza by sport,” he tells the Guardian. “It’s one of the only ways for us to survive, and so we make it happen.” Taha Hashim
I moved to Brighton a year ago and was delighted to find out that the one person I knew here played football for an 11-a-side team. After a couple of training sessions I was invited to join the vets side and gleefully accepted: the standard was excellent, the lads very welcoming, and after steadily declining in athleticism (availability and ability) in my 30s, it was nice not to have to mark a 22-year-old any more. But more than that, I’m thankful to football for getting me out of the house, making me run more than a bath and introducing me to new people in a new city. Michael Butler
Aina’s interview with a difference
By the standards of most Premier League post-match interviews – “Obviously the lads are delighted” – Ola Aina’s assessment of his screamer against West Ham last month was a rare occurrence of genuine wit. “It bounced up right, and I was knackered anyway, so I thought I might as well hit it,” the Nottingham Forest wing-back said. “We’re taking every game as it comes and working hard,” he added, reverting to standard interview-speak, of their form under Nuno Espírito Santo. If Aina and his teammates keep this up, European qualification will be secured and the quality of any post-match banter will become immaterial. Luke McLaughlin
