IN 1970, the Commonwealth Games in Edinburgh had been a resounding success. Forty-two nations were represented, and as the 1,600-plus competitors hugged and celebrated to the strains of Auld Lang Syne at the closing ceremony, they were dubbed the Friendly Games; when they returned to the capital just 16 years later, they were anything but.

The 1986 event was blighted from the start. Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher's refusal to impose economic sanctions against South Africa's apartheid regime had stoked fury; 32 of the eligible 59 nations, mainly from Africa and the Caribbean boycotted. A 33rd, Bermuda, withdrew the day after the opening ceremony. There was home-grown opposition too, and protesters made their presence felt ahead of Margaret Thatcher's attendance at the opening ceremony at Meadowbank Stadium, above.

Organisers had failed spectacularly in attempts to raise sponsorship. With weeks to go, in stepped media mogul Robert Maxwell, declaring himself saviour of the Games, and promising cold, hard cash. In truth, however, he contributed only £300,000; the eventual deficit was £4.3m.

Maxwell, a supreme showman and much else besides, had, however, galvanised proceedings. Without him, the Games might have been cancelled. As it turned out, the closing ceremony could have been scripted for him.

A gust of wind ripped the Saltire from the flagstaff carried at the head of the Scottish team by weightlifter Albert Patrick in front of the watching dignatories, including the Queen. Writing in 1991, the Glasgow Herald's Derek Douglas described what happened next: "Immediately Maxwell dashed from the Queen's side and, with the parade still progressing down the tartan track he made valiant attempts to re-unite flag and staff. That vainglorious but ultimately shambolic attempt to salvage Scotland's honour seemed somehow symbolic."