Commonwealth Games have been betrayed by a lack of bums on seats

Once the circus leaves Delhi next week, doubtless there will be interminable inquiries into the myriad issues that have dominated news bulletins but one of the most thorough should be focused on how the public support for the Games has, up to now at least, been so pitiful.

One gold medal triumph for the hosts was watched by 30 spectators. There are more people in the tube compartment you're currently travelling in.

The rights and wrongs of hosting major international sporting events in countries with substantial social and economic problems is another debate. But once you've committed to hosting an event on this scale, you are obliged to create a positive impression for the watching world, and that means bums on seats.

Indifference at the venue breeds indifference in the sitting room. Flick the remote. Watch something else.

There seems from afar to be an air of denial about so many of the problems in Delhi, but when an official stated — after the Games had begun — that they were building box offices outside the stadium, it was hard not to be consumed by an air or resignation. Perhaps the authorities thought a glitzy opening ceremony in front of a packed house was more important than a tennis centre with more officials than spectators.

Ultimately, the lesson to be learnt is that no event has a divine right to believe people will just turn up to watch. You have to sell it and sell it hard.

The authorities in Delhi are guilty either of naive innocence in believing that a proud public would embrace the Games and watch events out of curiosity, or of incompetence in not realising months ago, that sales were risible and something had to be done about it.

Some of the sport is terrific but too much of it is alien to the Indian public, and clearly little effort was made to educate them. Therein lies one lesson for London. How do we sell sports like handball to the paying public? For the integrity of the individual event and the Olympics themselves, we are obliged to ensure the arenas are packed.

Sport, after all, is about atmosphere — otherwise we might as well just have computer games. In an interview more than 20 years ago, Silvio Berlusconi, the AC Milan supremo, was floating the idea of a European league, with one match every night of the week. It wouldn't matter if no fans attended, he said, because the TV revenue would be such that it would finance the whole operation.

How wrong can you be? Sport is about passionate individuals performing in front of passionate and/or knowledgable audiences. That's what comes across on our screens. For many of the competitors in India, these Games represent the pinnacle of their sporting careers.

The horror stories about sickness and accommodation may well have been exaggerated, and the final verdict on Delhi may well be that it's been a qualified success. A few of the athletes will return home with medals, but nearly all with memories to last a lifetime of an unforgettable and unique sporting experience. But their friends will say: "Wasn't it a shame that the crowds were so sparse."

Sadly, rows upon rows of empty seats in Delhi have not only been a betrayal of the athletes, but of the Commonwealth Games themself.