Although we live, work, play and train globally we still expect athletes to put a stake in the ground and pledge their allegiance to one particular country.
Consider, for instance, the complex genealogy and geographical location of ''our'' golden girl, Valerie Adams, and a true sense of just how global athletes are becomes a reality.
Adams was born in Rotorua to a Tongan mother and English father. She was married to a New Caledonian, has a French coach, and lives and trains in Switzerland.
So, where does her allegiance rest or does it jump around like an athlete in celebratory mode after victory?
Maybe at different times and phases of her life her sense of identity shifts and adapts. Surely she'd feel some sense of connection to her family tree, to the country that shaped her values and early-life experiences, and to the opportunities and optimal training environment Switzerland provides?
What this complex mix of identities and loyalties suggests, is that for Adams the expression of pride doesn't have to be mono-cultural, and no one nation or culture ''owns'' her.
When it comes to international sporting events and award ceremonies, though, we expect her to wax lyrical about New Zealand. And, like a well-trained PR machine, she does.
Spare a thought for the dilemma Rory McIlroy faces. The golf star is the knot in a game of tug-o-war between Northern Ireland and Great Britain as both sides argue about where McIlroy's loyalties should lie for the 2016 Olympics.
McIlroy is Catholic but grew up in a predominantly Protestant neighbourhood and became a star at a historically Protestant golf club.
As a youngster, he played under the Golfing Union of Ireland umbrella and there are photos of him holding the Northern Ireland red and white flag after winning the 2010 Ryder Cup.
At other times, however, he has avoided being photographed with the tricolored Irish flag and his recent statement that he feels more ''British than Irish'' has caused a major stir.
McIlroy's generation didn't grow up during the Troubles like some earlier Irish athletes, such as boxer Barry McGuigan, but they still have to negotiate the cultural hazard that involves either sitting on the fence, doing what is politically correct, or being true to what feels right.
McGuigan managed to straddle the cultural divide by refusing to put on a sign that said ''this is who I represent'' and that act in itself was powerful.
It looks like McIlroy won't have to make the difficult decision in the end because it has been taken out of his hands due to an Olympic rule which suggests that because he played for Ireland at the amateur level, he will be required to stay under their watchful eye for the Olympics.
Even then, every move athletes make and every statement that passes their lips will be scrutinised by the cultural watchdogs of the countries and religions they represent (whether they choose to or not).
Skier Jacky Chamoun, for instance, lives in Switzerland, posed for an Austrian ski calendar several years ago, and represents the Arab nation of Lebanon at the Sochi Olympics.
Topless images taken of Chamoun for the calendar shoot have started to circulate on the internet, much to the embarrassment of the athlete and the conservative Lebanese nation she represents.
Chamoun has had to apologise to her ''people'' because the images are in stark contrast to the values and culture Lebanon wants to promote.
Can athletes ever satisfy everyone? With all the debate about updating the New Zealand flag, perhaps this is a good time to reflect on what values and norms we as a nation expect our athletes to portray, and spare a thought for the global athlete who comes from multicultural geneology and complex geographical circumstances.
It's not as simple as it used to be and it never will be again.
