How shall we remember the Rio Olympics?
As the Games of Bolt, the denouement of the greatest track and field career the world has, or is likely to, see?
Perhaps they will be known as the Games that broke barriers, that took the Olympic flame to a new continent, to a country that has emerged in the past two decades as a major regional and economic power (though one in the midst of a crippling recession)?
Maybe they will be known instead as the Penis Games.
The evidence is overwhelming.
The XXXIst Olympiad started with an, um, bang, with reports of record numbers of condoms in the Village - 450,000, a 350 per cent increase on what was required in the cuddle-up climes of Sochi.
The games were then punctuated by reports of a "marathon sex session" that played havoc with the synchronicity of the Brazilian dive team, but did nothing to harm canoeist Pedro Goncalves' off-the-water reputation.
We were still some distance from peak penis profile. That wouldn't come until deep into week two, when the men lined up in what would become the most dramatic pole vault showdown in history.
The drama and controversy between France's Renaud Lavellenie and local hero Thiago Braz da Silva that captivated and enraged could wait. Japan's Hiroki Ogita instead took centre stage.
The vaulter failed to make it out of qualifying, betrayed by his own protruding phallus when it tipped over the bar as he desperately attempted to clear 5.3m.
account of the drama: "As [Ogita] began to drop back down towards the ground, his shin grazed the bar, causing it to wobble dangerously. But it was his penis that delivered the final blow. Already unsteady, the bar was dislodged from its holdings when Ogita's old fellow decided to make an appearance and slap the metal."
Just as the story was starting to suffer from shrinkage, Ogita himself brought it back to life. There was, it seemed, a new twist in the penis... story.
Speaking of his Olympic experience, his response was both offended and, well, not offended.
On the one hand: "I have to say I'm pretty devastated that they'd go so far to make something up to mock and ridicule me so much."
Yet on the other: "Watching again, this is pretty funny, if I say so myself. LOL."
Tell you who wasn't LOL'ing much. Tonga swimmer Amini Fonua, who is gay, tore into straight
reporter Nico Hines for an ill-judged (actually, irredeemable)
"No straight person will ever know the pain of revealing your truth, to take that away is just... I can't. It literally brings me to tears," Fonua posted in a string of tweets that became increasingly incensed.
Which is not to say that dating services were not in demand. A social lubricant was required for all those condoms after all, and Tinder won the gold medal for app of the Games.
Tinder spokeswoman Rosette Pambakian told the Washington Post that usage had skyrocketed in Rio de Janeiro. Matches in the Olympic Village increased by 129 per cent over the opening weekend.
Marcus Nyman, a Swedish judoka, proudly informed the paper that he got 10 matches on Tinder in the two days after he arrived in Rio.
"A lot of the athletes here are using this app," he said.
Love of a more permanent kind was also in the air.
As the Australians received the first gold medal handed out for sevens, Brazilian player Isadora Cerullo was receiving a different kind of prize - a marriage proposal from her girlfriend of two years, Marjorie Enya.
"I know rugby people are amazing and they would embrace it," Enya said, possibly unaware of the less-than-progressive attitude towards the LGBT community displayed by Chiefs' lock Michael "Here comes the gays" Allardice a few days earlier.
Enya was joined on one knee later in the Games by Chinese diver Qin Kai, whose proposal to fellow diver He Zi on the medal dais has sharply divided opinion. Author Sunny Singh labelled it a "dick move", strengthening the sense that these are the Penis Games.
We can't ignore other curious goings on in Rio too, like the water. The lead-up to these Games had been all about the water; the bacteria-infested Lagoa Rodrigo de Freitas, the waters of Copacabana that were seething in viruses - and who can forget the disembodied limbs floating casually around Guanabara Bay?
Wrong. The divers were faced with the prospect as leaping into something that looked a little like a yet-to-set bowl of lime jelly.
This was a booing Olympics, too, some of it understandable, some of it appalling.
Sprinter Justin Gatlin was booed and he really didn't like it. The twice-banned drugs cheat shouldn't have been that surprised. Not only did he have a record of shame, he was also racing against the most celebrated athlete on the planet, the aforementioned Bolt.
Swimmer Yulia Efimova was booed and she didn't like it either. She tested positive for steroids in 2013 and served a ban that was lifted in time for her to compete in Brazil. She was the subject of US rival Lilly King's finger-wagging scorn and the crowd went along for the ride.
Sun Yang was booed and China didn't much like it. Labelled a drug cheat by Australian Mack Horton, Sun's cyber-savvy compatriots hacked Swimming Australia's website and bombarded Horton's Instagram account with abuse.
Lavillenie was booed and he hated it so much he cried. He had every right to be distressed. Leading all the way in a compelling pole vault competition until Brazilian hero Thiago passed him with a desperate, brilliant attempt at an Olympic-record height, Lavillenie gave the crowd the thumbs down when they would not quiet for his final attempt.
Cue: booing that continued until the next day during the medal ceremony.
A much happier celebration was taking place at the wrestling, where Japanese gold medallist Risako Kawai, 21, was so happy she wanted her 56-year-old coach Kazuhito Sakae to share the feeling.
We can't leave these strange, troubled and occasionally wonderful Games without mention of a certain high-profile swimmer and his ill-advised mates.
The colourfully coiffed Ryan Lochte went out on the razzle with his pals, caused a bit of mayhem coming home, told a fib to his mum about being robbed and then had to follow-through on the lie when she went to the press.
It was all sorts of wrong best encapsulated by the never-subtle New York Post who began their front-page take-down with the words, "Liar, liar, Speedo on fire."
It was universally agreed Lochte had made a complete cock of himself.