Rules for enjoying the Games - even if you are really a sceptic

There are a few places where it is inadvisable to be a cynic. At the My Little Pony convention, for example. Or during the build-up to an Olympic Games. BBC commentators are, I suspect, already being force-fed a diet of sugar and temazepam. By the time a Briton comes third in the men's 10m air pistol, Barry Davies will be as excitable as a randy chimpanzee.

Personally, I've always been an Olympic whinger: sceptical of the results, miserable about the commercialism, in a state of near-fury about the sheer wastage that surrounds it all. But for the two and a bit weeks starting 8 August - and Lord, it always feels like more - I will attempt something entirely new: to enter wholeheartedly into the blur of goodwill.

Everyone knows that you don't succeed in your first Olympics. No: like Tom Daley, our 14-year-old diver, I'm going to make Beijing a dry run for London 2012, my own personal "test event" in which I set myself the following tasks:

Embrace the Olympic spirit

This should, in theory, be the easiest task. The only problem is that I'm not exactly sure what said spirit is. It's one of those things that people always talk about but never define. It has something to do with going faster, being stronger and, in some cases, getting higher than other people. It is also connected with doing whatever you do to the best of your ability. And there are, apparently, any number of official products - Coca-Cola, Big Macs - that will help me.

Learn a new sport

Not in the sense of take one up. Good God, no. I mean picking up a few pieces of, say, martial arts vocabulary, so that I can express my great surprise about the unexpected dominance of Denmark in this year's tae kwon do, and work myself up into a lather of disappointment when someone from Barnsley just misses out on a bronze. Developing a slightly crazed obsession with sports you had never previously heard of is inevitable once you realise that all the good stuff has been scheduled for American audiences and will happen while you're asleep.

Believe what I'm told

Particularly crucial this year, with the Chinese hosts ever keen on their own, official, version of events. It's important to believe, against all the evidence, that every competitor is playing by the rules and that no one who gets a gold medal has been dabbling in illicit substances. In theatre, this is called suspension of disbelief, and allows you to enter an imaginary world for an hour or two. When the same symptoms last two weeks, it's called denial. It also helps to believe that sports such as sailing and riding are not full of posh people, that Britain has a shot at the hockey, that Prem players really do care about getting a silver in the football, and that there's nothing absurd about Graeco-Roman wrestling.

Celebrate British successes as if they're my own

This is the key to a thorough enjoyment of the Games. The winners may have spent lifetimes in search of one fleeting moment of glory. They may have punished their bodies and neglected their families while I indulged in fatty foods and late nights. But that doesn't mean that, when they take the podium, I can't convince myself their success is somehow partly mine because we happened to be born in the same country. Yes, even that rower with the suspiciously American accent.

Emma John is deputy editor of Observer Sport Monthly

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