Manchester's consolation prize can be richly rewarding

They began as the British Empire Games back in 1930, becoming the British Empire and Commonwealth Games in 1954 and, from 1970, the British Commonwealth Games. From 1978 we have known them as the Commonwealth Games, although the steady diminution of their name makes it likely that in the not too distant future they could become merely "Games".

But here is the odd thing. While the title has shrunk, replicating the Empire, the Games themselves have not. The XVII Commonwealth Games which begin in Manchester on Thursday represent the largest multi-sport event ever to be held in the United Kingdom and are the biggest in the Games' history.

A total of 5,250 athletes and officials from 72 nations will involve themselves in 17 different sports at 15 different venues. Tickets are close to a sell-out, and television viewers are promised 180 hours' coverage on BBC1 and BBC2.

The Olympic Games' smaller and homelier relation is doing just fine, 72 years after it was established through the energy and vision of one Bobby Robinson, manager of the Canadian athletics team at the 1928 Olympics. Robinson was also sports editor of the local newspaper in Hamilton, Ontario, and enabled the first Games to take part in his home town after persuading the local authorities to contribute towards teams' travelling expenses. He produced a mission statement which contrasted the new event with the Olympics. "It should be merrier and less stern and will substitute the stimulus of novel adventure for the pressure of international rivalry," the statement read.

For all Robinson's exuberant optimism, however, the Games have known times very far removed from merriment, perhaps most excruciatingly when they were last held within these shores 16 years ago at Edinburgh. A proposed rugby union tour of New Zealand by South Africa prompted 31 countries, largely from Africa and the Caribbean, to boycott the Edinburgh Games in protest against the South Africans' apartheid policies – even though South Africa had not been present in the competition since 1958, a state of affairs that only resolved itself in 1994.

The uncertainty in which those rainswept Games got under way was not just political, but financial. Such was the concern over the potential shortfall that Robert Maxwell, the egregious owner of the Daily Mirror, offered to save the Games by underwriting them. After appearing at press conferences where he refused to say how much money he was prepared to offer, or where it was coming from, he topped off the whole performance by assuming a high profile role at the medal ceremonies, where he was hailed as the event's saviour. The 1986 Games made a loss of £4m.

In that respect, however, they were little different from all other Games of recent times. The Commonwealth Games Council admitted last year that none had made a profit. Early budgets for the 2006 Games in Melbourne indicate that a financial subsidy will be required.

Although it reneged on its promise to host the 2005 World Athletics Championships in London, going back on its plans to build a dedicated stadium at Picketts Lock, the Government clearly recognised that the Commonwealth Games, in the year of the Queen's Golden Jubilee, was not something that could be allowed to fail.

Accordingly they assigned a Minister to it, Ian McCartney, and contributed an initial tranche of £130m towards the facilities. But it is Manchester City Council which has been made to underwrite a shortfall that has been estimated at anywhere between £32m and £124m.

For all of the financial weaknesses of the event, however, the Games persist and grow. Plans for Melbourne are going ahead.

Coverage by BBC, allied to the Queen's Baton Relay which is making its way around the country with regular name checks on TV weather reports, is ensuring that these forthcoming Games are entering the national consciousness. World Cup – tick. Wimbledon – tick. Open – tick. Commonwealth Games.

Sir Bob Scott, who led the unsuccessful Manchester bids for the 1996 and 2000 Olympics – the second of which cost £72m of taxpayers' money – described the awarding of the Commonwealth Games to his championed city as "a little bit like the consolation prize".

But there is a real hope that this consolation prize can be richly rewarding. Touch wood, no boycotts are likely to render the competition a three-sided match between the home countries, Australasia and Canada. And even though a number of leading African athletes, particularly Kenyans, have foregone selection in order to concentrate on making money in the International Association of Athletic Federations Golden League and World Cup events, there remains a sufficiently large and varied representation to offer the prospect of numerous world-class confrontations in the City of Manchester Stadium that stands in the heart of Sport City.

Four years ago, at the closing ceremony of the 1998 Commonwealth Games in Kuala Lumpur, a night-time concert by groups including The Corrs was interspersed with a live feed from outside Manchester City hall, where groups such as James and New Order entertained the packed Bukit Jalal stadium. There was a real sense of continuity and excitement, a real feeling that Manchester, with its sporting and musical traditions, could offer something edgy and exciting in four years' time.

Now that time has come. For all the talk of emulating the success of the most recent global Games, the 2002 host city needs to remember that, to adapt a well-worn phrase, it can never be the next Sydney, only the first Manchester.

New Zealand's rugby players are on their way for the sevens tournament. Ian Thorpe is bringing his flipper feet to the Commonwealth pool. And on a track that will be ripped up immediately after the Games have finished in order to prepare the stadium for Manchester City's tenancy, a legion of talent is preparing to make the most of the occasion.

The pressure of international rivalry will be stern, but, it is to be hoped, none the less merry for that. These are, after all, the Friendly Games.

So here's to you, Mr Robinson.