There really is nothing like a World Championship to spark that hobbyhorse of Jamaican debate — which is the sturdier sex. Of course, the biggest controversy arising from the recently concluded World Championships in Helsinki, Finland, is Usain Bolt pulling up.

Why did Bolt, the world junior 200m record holder, in whom we had placed our hopes for national glory, suddenly slow down to a jog in the middle of the 200m final?

The knee-jerk reaction by many was that he, on realising that he would have been ignominiously beaten, opted to quit. It was later revealed that he had slowed down, having felt a pull on his hamstring. It’s an excuse that many people aren’t buying. The result: A torrent of calls to radio talk shows, that infamous Clovis cartoon (Saturday, August 13), and heated parlour room discussions pitting friend against friend.

For many, the Bolt situation highlights the generally disappointing performance of our male athletes — long jumper James Beckford’s failure to make the finals in his event and the fourth-place finish of the men’s 4x100m relay team, for example.

Apart from the bronze in the men’s 4x400m and Michael Frater’s silver in the men’s 100m, the men accomplished little. Redemption came from the female athletes who, as has become the norm, snagged the lion’s share of medals, including the only gold from triple jumper Trecia Smith.

I’ll tell you right now, I’m not about to join the raging debate about who didn’t do what or why who stopped, and who is weak, etc. The truth is, I’m not an athlete. Have never been, and would only bring the name of the sport into disrepute if I tried. I’ve never run track. To tell the truth, I’ve never even run down a bus.

I don’t run. Period. I don’t know the challenges athletes experience, although I do know they must be quite considerable. What I also know is that performing at the world level has to be one of the most daunting things a person can do. We all know this and that’s why the majority of us can afford to be armchair commentators.

We can only live our dreams for international stardom through our athletes, those fortunate few who are blessed with the ability.

That’s why I think we tend to be a tad harsh in our criticisms of our athletes.

As an aside, I wonder how many of the people purporting to be sports specialists and analysts, have ever turned up at local competitions to give moral support to these athletes, or have been a part of organisations that contribute financially to the training for these athletes?

It’s easy to criticise from the sidelines, from the comfort of a cool living room while chomping on a big, greasy hamburger and guzzling from the mouth of a 2-litre bottle of Pepsi, isn’t it?

What I am prepared to say, however, is that the games did underscore what I’ve always felt to be the fundamental difference between our men and our women – not just our athletes.

Although we have some talented male athletes today, it’s my sense that the male athletes of yesteryear were a more imposing, formidable bunch, made of sturdier stock. I may be wrong, but apart from the aforementioned Bolt, the phenomenal Asafa Powell, and a few others, one hardly encounters athletes of the calibre of Herb McKinley, Arthur Wint, Bert Cameron and Donald Quarrie these days. And I’m not strictly speaking about times and records. I’m talking about character.

(Incidentally, same thing with our Caribbean cricketers. Who among us hasn’t wondered about the laissez-faire atmosphere in the West Indies team where some of the cricketers seem to feel that their celebrity status is comparable to that of the American NBA (National Basketball League) players?)

Our current female athletes, on the other hand, seem to be continuing the fine tradition of the likes of Merlene Ottey, Juliet Cuthbert, Grace Jackson, Cathy Rattray and others of that ilk. (Look, too, at our Sunshine Girls — the national netball team.) There is something about Jamaican women today, athletes and otherwise, that makes them more focused than our men.

I’ve known it all along. Women possess a stronger inner moral fortitude. Again, character. I think this is born out of how we are raised.

While mothers gloss over the shortcomings of their boys, making excuses for them and not allowing them to take responsibility for their actions, girls have no such luck. Boys are let off the hook more often than not, regarding housework. Girls, however, are expected to keep the house clean, help with the cooking, take on washing and still find time to do their schoolwork.

Ultimately, girls learn early in life about consistency and dedication, about the necessity of enduring tedium, and how to focus.

The days when boys were taught to wash and iron their clothes – in my father’s and grandfather’s days – are basically over. Today, the average boy is simply expected to be a boy, which often entails aping what his father, or his male role model, does.

This usually means activities that get quick results, like finessing his technique for getting a girl’s attention. Or else it’s about self-actualisation at any cost.

Listen, I understand these are generalities. I’m not saying that these boys are growing up to be men who don’t know how to win. I’m just saying that girls are growing up to be women who want it more and have learnt the principles of how best to achieve it.