There’s something unnerving about watching beach volleyball under the Eiffel Tower. It’s not the imported sand, engineered so as not to stick to the athletes’ bodies. Not the contrived MC, amping up the crowd. It’s not the fixtures timed just perfectly to take in the glorious sunset. Not the picture perfect light show whose focus is Paris’ great monument.

The thing that really gets you, watching the beach volleyball medal matches at the start of the Games’ final weekend, is when the stands start swaying. Forty metres high, they ring the court on three sides. One of the hottest tickets in this Parisian summer, the temporary seats have completed the fabulous vision of the Games, simple to understand at a glance: the Olympics are in Paris.

French president Emmanuel Macron dubbed the purpose-built structure “magnificent” prior to the Games. It is generously dubbed Eiffel Tower Stadium. Stuff the Olympics’ “new norms”, under the heading “legacy”, the official website is to-the-point: “The venue will be dismantled following the Games.”

Feeling the swaying again now, it’s probably for the best. The MC in his wisdom feels the need to encourage the obedient crowd to make rhythmic gestures with their arms. Mexican waves. Claps at increasing tempo. Movements to replicate the act of blocking a volleyball. Punching the air with the right hand, then the left.

It’s all to build buzz for the entertainment, sorry sport, playing out in front. In Friday’s first medal match, Australia’s team of Taliqua Clancy – a Wulli Wulli and Goreng Goreng woman from the other side of the world – and Peru-born Mariafe Artacho del Solar sadly fall short. Their straight sets defeat to Tanja Hueberli and Nina Brunner from land-locked Switzerland for the bronze passes by in a flash.

Thirty-nine minutes is all it takes. For watching rows of fans – and indeed press – as many as half of those were spent on iPhones, capturing the perfect sunset photo. Afterwards, Clancy says the result “stings” and “probably will for a really long time”. But she says she’s “never going to take for granted that I was able to play under the Eiffel Tower”. Artacho del Solar says playing in this “iconic, beautiful” venue has been in her dreams. “And in front of that amazing crowd, with the energy and the vibe.”

The vibe is kept on a light simmer by the DJ, who pumps out base heavy beats between each point. Then during the breaks in play, the MC takes over, and the swaying begins anew. There is the random rumble through the scaffolding when the fans are on their feet, jumping up and down when the set reaches its climax. Or the more rhythmic bounce from the escalating clapping. But the queasiest movement is where everyone waggles their arms at their shoulder joint in time.

To a cynic, the Olympics are fertile ground. The vast public expense, the simple-minded parochialism. The glorification of pushing and pulling, running and jumping. And the further they go from their original mission, the narrower their licence appears. Many rightly question whether they should include sports like BMX, breaking and skateboarding. Or indeed beach volleyball. And if the athletes spend life on the breadline, just who is getting rich?

170km from the nearest sea, under the vast illuminated trusses of the tower, in a playground of artificial sand, the whole beach volleyball charade seems in that context ridiculous. But hear the roar of the crowd in the gold medal match when Brazilians Ana Patrícia and Duda come back to take the first set, and a nagging thought emerges. After another glance up at the Eiffel Tower, now sparkling.

That thought, coming just slowly at first. Then more readily. The balmy evening, the goodwill in the audience. The beaming five rings, “I♡PARIS” raked into the sand. And there it is, now knocking on the skull like a courier with no authority to leave: the Paris Olympics have nailed it.

Sport is the great escape, a place to never grow up. It is a way to relax, or a way to connect. To argue about medal tallies, to make grand generalisations about the nature of nationalities based on their relay changeovers. And after Tokyo, and algorithms, and the cost of living crisis, perhaps these simple Games are what is needed.

The highlight of the gold medal match is a header by Brazilian Ana Patrícia, who then wins the point with a successful challenge for an opponent’s touch at the net. Alongside Duda, the pair prevails over Canadians Melissa Humana-Paredes and Brandie Wilkerson in three sets.

But they have to get through a heated deciding stanza, which includes an extended argument between the pair under the net. As the seething players finally return to their positions, the DJ starts playing John Lennon’s “Imagine”. Then there’s that swaying again. And it feels pretty good.