Just after the American swimmer Ryan Lochte had won gold in the 200 metres backstroke, he was asked about his eating habits. He mentioned pizzas and products from an American fast food chain. I thought McLochte was alone. Far from it.
Just after destroying the field to set a new world record in the 100 metres on Saturday night, Usain Bolt was asked what kind of day he’d had.
“I never had breakfast,” he said. “Actually I woke up at 11am, sat around watched some TV..then I had lunch....some nuggets…and then I pretty much went back to my room.....slept again for three more hours and then, went back and got some more nuggets and then I came to the track.”
On such a regime McBolt registered a time of 9.69 seconds to become the first Jamaican winner of the title.
These kind of statements should come with the kind of warnings that used to precede TV episodes of Batman: “Don’t try this at home, kids.”
Bolt qualifed for the second round of the 200 metres today just before China went into national mourning over the non-qualification of the golden boy Liu Xiang.
The 25 year old Olympic and world champion in the 110 metres high hurdles pulled up with a gammy ankle during heat six. This is bad news as he was the big hope for a Chinese gold medal at the stadium.
He’s a good looking boy and his face has been plastered everywhere. There was a hastily convened press conference to discuss why the king had left the building.
I’m surprised that there hasn’t been an emergency cabinet meeting. I’d personally impose martial law.
But then I am known to overreact.
I’ve been looking at some of the news agency wires and they’re quoting fans of the man saying the Olympics are over for me.
I personally have seen few signs of self-immolation.
Only yesterday I was musing on how the exploits of Bolt and the American swimmer Michael Phelps had helped the Olympics to emerge from the negative cloud surrounding the prelude to the games.
In essence Liu’s departure won’t diminish it from a sporting point of view as gargantuan feats have already been achieved.
Liu was only mentioned in the same breath as the world record holder Dayron Robles because the so called “Shanghai Express” was the defending champion. Injuries have kept Liu out of action for much of the season.
The saying goes that class is permanent while form is temporary but we all know that excellence nevertheless needs to muscle its way to the top. Eventually it will out.
Since huge marketing campaigns have been launched around Liu, there must be a squadron of executives now flying by the seat of their pants.
He, along with the basketball player Yao Ming, was one of the human product placements of these Olympics.
Liu’s main coach, Sun Haiping, twice broke down in tears during the press conference. While I don’t think he’s going to be taken away and consigned to the salt mines, the outburst underlines the immense pressure that both had been living with.
There was a sense in the press conference that the true extent of the injury had been hidden from the Chinese people. If that’s the case, then that’s just stupid. Injuries are as inevitable to athletes as defeats and victories.
Terrence Trammell, the American contender for the 110 metres high hurdles, pulled up in heat five. Even though he was wearing sunglasses, you could see the pain in his eyes as he beat his fist.
It’s bad luck. It happens and you just have to recover and conquer anew.
We’re on the cusp of a perception here. If the crowds now don’t turn up to the events because their one true hero is defunct, then the Shangri-la promoted since the opening ceremony nine days ago will be exposed as a sustained deception.
Chinese athletes have so far garnered 35 golds – already three more than at Athens four years ago. With seven days of competition still left they’re on target to head the medals table
But if they collect all the golds, silvers and bronzes available from this point and the masses still consider the event not to be a success because their champion has gone, then the International Olympic Committee executives who decided to place the Olympic product here will be shown up to be as lame as Liu.
To cite a phrase from an Australian swimmer, we’re in a moment.
Monday, 18 August 2008
Sunday, 17 August 2008
The Legends
What a whirlwind. I’m not sure if it can be classified as 24 hours that changed the world but it was certainly a period of time in which the games emerged from the shadow of their location.
If the event is ultimately deemed a success then two men should be given the keys to Beijing.
On land and in the water Usain Bolt and Michael Phelps respectively have probably injected these Olympics into the consciousness of a generation.
I grew up in Britain watching sports on TV and especially the Olympics with the commentary of David Coleman. And in these moments of competitive drama on the track, it’s his voice that I often hear.
It wasn’t simply the 100 metres. He had to say something like: “The race to determine the fastest man on the planet.”
Give or take the hyperbole, he made it compelling stuff.
Well, taking a leaf out of Coleman’s high octane descriptions, Bolt didn’t win Saturday night’s 100 metres race, he destroyed the field.
Or as I think I said when I was commentating on it: “There was space.”
That’s the thing that I remember. Bolt had time to look around. He was that far ahead.
It wasn’t quite in the league of waving to special fans in the crowd - that would have been disrespectful - but he could have done.
Richard Thompson, the silver medallist, from Trinidad, put it succinctly.
“I felt as if I was with Usain up to 50 metres and then just felt him pulling away after that. I felt I was in a comfortable second position. I just tried to stay relaxed and I felt myself pulling away from the rest of the field and I could see him slowing down and I’m still pumping to the line…
“He’s a phenomenal athlete and I don’t think there’s any way anyone would have beaten him with a run like that.”
In his quest for eight golds Phelps has given us the knife-edge of an Alfred Hitchcock movie. And, as in the best of all the Master of Suspense’s stories, there have been twists and turns.
Phelps had already been anointed the greatest Olympian of all time after collecting his fourth gold medal here – and 10th overall - when he won the 200 metres butterfly.
That put him ahead of the golden gang of nine which included the the Finnish athlete Paavo Nurmi, the American athlete Carl Lewis and the Russian gymnast Larissa Latynina.
Next up was would he equal the seven gold medal haul of the American swimmer Mark Spitz from the 1972 Olympics in Munich.
He did that on Saturday with the fingertip win in the 100 metres butterfly. On Sunday? Would he surpass Spitz and be hailed as lord of all games?
Oddly enough for this he had to rely on others. But the medley relay team of Aaron Peirsol for the backstroke, Brendan Hansen for the breaststroke and Jason Lezak for the freestyle combined to realise the dream.
Five on his own – three with others.
Quite a few of the swimming medallists have been asked to comment on Phelps. And to a man and woman they’ve all essentially said: “Wow.”
They talk about his focus, his consistency and his work ethic.
Grant Hackett, the Australian swimmer who narrowly failed on Sunday to win a third successive Olympic 1500 metres title said: “The level of achievement that he’s done here is phenomenal. In my opinion we’ll never ever see it again. I just don’t think that can be emulated or beaten.
“In this day and age when the sport is so competitive and so close...I said I thought he could win six or seven..... with a little bit of luck.....get eight. And I think in that 100 metres butterfly the way he got on that wall in such a close race everything lined up for him perfectly. He’s done a wonderful job.
“He’s an incredible racer and good on him for what he’s achieved. He’s a nice guy and a good bloke and over the past few years I’ve never seen him change - which is nice.”
Endorsements don’t come bigger than that.
Hackett should know. He said he needed five hours a week of physiotherapy and massage to make sure he can do the kilometres of training needed to be competitive.
At 28 with a couple of Olympic golds and now one silver, no one is really going to tell him he can’t go the distance. But he did sound as if the end was nigh.
And his explanation gave a tiny insight into the lives these athletes lead. But there’s also something at play which goes beyond the everyday discipline of weights and circuit training.
One of the American network camera men who I’ve been chatting to as we’ve been following the agony and joy of the swimmers quipped that Phelps should name his first born son Jason.
It’s not that the other members of the relay teams have done poorly, far from it, it’s just that Lezak has been titanic.
Veteran swimming correspondents spoke of Lezak’s swim last Monday in the freestyle relay as one of the most incredible they’d witnessed.
Lezak jumped into the pool a body length behind Alain Bernard – the second fastest man over 100 metres – and a swimmer who routinely betters him.
Lezak caught him and beat him.
The US team was elemental in its celebrations. Over the next few days every US swimmer would spoke of Lezak’s anchor leg in a race that simply became “the relay”.
Phelps himself has habitually said: “I’ve been speechless since Monday....” And we all know what he is referring to.
Four days after the relay, Bernard won gold in the 100 metres freestyle coming in ahead of the Australian world record holder Eamon Sullivan and Lezak. It was Lezak’s first individual medal in three Olympic games.
Even Bernard talked about how the relay made him reassess and refocus.
On Sunday in the medley relay Lezak plunged into the water with a lead of 0.81 seconds on Sullivan.
Afer the race Lezak said that before he went in he told himself that if he could catch a man that usually beats him then Sullivan, who also usually beats him, could rein him in.
He added: “Obviously I wanted to take it out hard and hold on as strong as I could.”
Lezak touched first with 0.70 of a second to spare.
So are legends spawned.
If the event is ultimately deemed a success then two men should be given the keys to Beijing.
On land and in the water Usain Bolt and Michael Phelps respectively have probably injected these Olympics into the consciousness of a generation.
I grew up in Britain watching sports on TV and especially the Olympics with the commentary of David Coleman. And in these moments of competitive drama on the track, it’s his voice that I often hear.
It wasn’t simply the 100 metres. He had to say something like: “The race to determine the fastest man on the planet.”
Give or take the hyperbole, he made it compelling stuff.
Well, taking a leaf out of Coleman’s high octane descriptions, Bolt didn’t win Saturday night’s 100 metres race, he destroyed the field.
Or as I think I said when I was commentating on it: “There was space.”
That’s the thing that I remember. Bolt had time to look around. He was that far ahead.
It wasn’t quite in the league of waving to special fans in the crowd - that would have been disrespectful - but he could have done.
Richard Thompson, the silver medallist, from Trinidad, put it succinctly.
“I felt as if I was with Usain up to 50 metres and then just felt him pulling away after that. I felt I was in a comfortable second position. I just tried to stay relaxed and I felt myself pulling away from the rest of the field and I could see him slowing down and I’m still pumping to the line…
“He’s a phenomenal athlete and I don’t think there’s any way anyone would have beaten him with a run like that.”
In his quest for eight golds Phelps has given us the knife-edge of an Alfred Hitchcock movie. And, as in the best of all the Master of Suspense’s stories, there have been twists and turns.
Phelps had already been anointed the greatest Olympian of all time after collecting his fourth gold medal here – and 10th overall - when he won the 200 metres butterfly.
That put him ahead of the golden gang of nine which included the the Finnish athlete Paavo Nurmi, the American athlete Carl Lewis and the Russian gymnast Larissa Latynina.
Next up was would he equal the seven gold medal haul of the American swimmer Mark Spitz from the 1972 Olympics in Munich.
He did that on Saturday with the fingertip win in the 100 metres butterfly. On Sunday? Would he surpass Spitz and be hailed as lord of all games?
Oddly enough for this he had to rely on others. But the medley relay team of Aaron Peirsol for the backstroke, Brendan Hansen for the breaststroke and Jason Lezak for the freestyle combined to realise the dream.
Five on his own – three with others.
Quite a few of the swimming medallists have been asked to comment on Phelps. And to a man and woman they’ve all essentially said: “Wow.”
They talk about his focus, his consistency and his work ethic.
Grant Hackett, the Australian swimmer who narrowly failed on Sunday to win a third successive Olympic 1500 metres title said: “The level of achievement that he’s done here is phenomenal. In my opinion we’ll never ever see it again. I just don’t think that can be emulated or beaten.
“In this day and age when the sport is so competitive and so close...I said I thought he could win six or seven..... with a little bit of luck.....get eight. And I think in that 100 metres butterfly the way he got on that wall in such a close race everything lined up for him perfectly. He’s done a wonderful job.
“He’s an incredible racer and good on him for what he’s achieved. He’s a nice guy and a good bloke and over the past few years I’ve never seen him change - which is nice.”
Endorsements don’t come bigger than that.
Hackett should know. He said he needed five hours a week of physiotherapy and massage to make sure he can do the kilometres of training needed to be competitive.
At 28 with a couple of Olympic golds and now one silver, no one is really going to tell him he can’t go the distance. But he did sound as if the end was nigh.
And his explanation gave a tiny insight into the lives these athletes lead. But there’s also something at play which goes beyond the everyday discipline of weights and circuit training.
One of the American network camera men who I’ve been chatting to as we’ve been following the agony and joy of the swimmers quipped that Phelps should name his first born son Jason.
It’s not that the other members of the relay teams have done poorly, far from it, it’s just that Lezak has been titanic.
Veteran swimming correspondents spoke of Lezak’s swim last Monday in the freestyle relay as one of the most incredible they’d witnessed.
Lezak jumped into the pool a body length behind Alain Bernard – the second fastest man over 100 metres – and a swimmer who routinely betters him.
Lezak caught him and beat him.
The US team was elemental in its celebrations. Over the next few days every US swimmer would spoke of Lezak’s anchor leg in a race that simply became “the relay”.
Phelps himself has habitually said: “I’ve been speechless since Monday....” And we all know what he is referring to.
Four days after the relay, Bernard won gold in the 100 metres freestyle coming in ahead of the Australian world record holder Eamon Sullivan and Lezak. It was Lezak’s first individual medal in three Olympic games.
Even Bernard talked about how the relay made him reassess and refocus.
On Sunday in the medley relay Lezak plunged into the water with a lead of 0.81 seconds on Sullivan.
Afer the race Lezak said that before he went in he told himself that if he could catch a man that usually beats him then Sullivan, who also usually beats him, could rein him in.
He added: “Obviously I wanted to take it out hard and hold on as strong as I could.”
Lezak touched first with 0.70 of a second to spare.
So are legends spawned.
Saturday, 16 August 2008
The Cleaners
Much of the pre-Games focus on China was the relative lack of freedom, dodgy international initiatives and monolithic political systems. But still we came.
Much was hyped about the prominent policing that would make all us visitors feel safe. Well I haven’t been attacked yet. But then again I haven’t been anywhere outside the vortex of hotel – venues – hotel.
Nothing as far as I can recall was highlighted about something altogether far more insidious – visible cleaning.
It’s a tough and sustained crackdown on grime. It’s vicious.
At the hotel where I rest my head but for a few hours, the waitresses in the breakfast room patrol with diligence so they can administer tea or coffee.
I’ve experienced them terminate breakfast with extreme prejudice.
One morning, there was more or less half a piece of toast on my plate when I got up to go and get a bit more coffee. When I returned the plate had been cleared away. I turned my back for a second and it was gone.
Now whether that’s a metaphor for a wider political malaise, well I’ll leave that for another blog. Maybe one when I’m home.
However since it’s so dangerous to get up I stockpile all that I need.
The policy of termination is operational at the Water Cube.
After witnessing the most controversial morning of swimming since the games began, I went into the cluster of tables outside the commentary positions.
I was there to reflect on Michael Phelps’s acquisition of his seventh gold medal. He won the 100 metres butterfly in 50.58 seconds. The Serbian Milorad Cavic was clocked in at 50.59.
But pictures shown in the pool made it look like the Serb had won.
The Serbs lodged an appeal against the result and an hour or so later Phelps was reconfirmed as the winner. Nothing wrong with the timekeeping harrumphed the blue jackets from FINA, international swimmings governing body.
There’s not much wrong with the Water Cube it’s a bit like an art gallery – lots of white – lots of yonic symbols. I was starting to chill out as I listened to the post swim interviews that I'd recorded. But the cool is destroyed by things like mops propped up against walls and cloths nestling on ledges. In one of the toilets a mop was stuffed into a urinal.
I just hope that’s not used to clean the floors.
As I started to break into the complimentary biscuits and coffee, the cleaner walked past me and cast a lingering look at this pocket of activity.
A few minutes later she returned, stopped and pushed an askew chair neatly under my table before continuing her passage.
She went past again. This time I followed her and she disappeared out of sight.
I sat there thinking what would be more subversive making a big mess or clearing up.
Well given that I have three children I realise I spend my entire waking life clearing up. So I brushed the crumbs into the cup and got up to make my move.
From out of nowhere the cleaner arrived.
I hope it was coincidence.
Much was hyped about the prominent policing that would make all us visitors feel safe. Well I haven’t been attacked yet. But then again I haven’t been anywhere outside the vortex of hotel – venues – hotel.
Nothing as far as I can recall was highlighted about something altogether far more insidious – visible cleaning.
It’s a tough and sustained crackdown on grime. It’s vicious.
At the hotel where I rest my head but for a few hours, the waitresses in the breakfast room patrol with diligence so they can administer tea or coffee.
I’ve experienced them terminate breakfast with extreme prejudice.
One morning, there was more or less half a piece of toast on my plate when I got up to go and get a bit more coffee. When I returned the plate had been cleared away. I turned my back for a second and it was gone.
Now whether that’s a metaphor for a wider political malaise, well I’ll leave that for another blog. Maybe one when I’m home.
However since it’s so dangerous to get up I stockpile all that I need.
The policy of termination is operational at the Water Cube.
After witnessing the most controversial morning of swimming since the games began, I went into the cluster of tables outside the commentary positions.
I was there to reflect on Michael Phelps’s acquisition of his seventh gold medal. He won the 100 metres butterfly in 50.58 seconds. The Serbian Milorad Cavic was clocked in at 50.59.
But pictures shown in the pool made it look like the Serb had won.
The Serbs lodged an appeal against the result and an hour or so later Phelps was reconfirmed as the winner. Nothing wrong with the timekeeping harrumphed the blue jackets from FINA, international swimmings governing body.
There’s not much wrong with the Water Cube it’s a bit like an art gallery – lots of white – lots of yonic symbols. I was starting to chill out as I listened to the post swim interviews that I'd recorded. But the cool is destroyed by things like mops propped up against walls and cloths nestling on ledges. In one of the toilets a mop was stuffed into a urinal.
I just hope that’s not used to clean the floors.
As I started to break into the complimentary biscuits and coffee, the cleaner walked past me and cast a lingering look at this pocket of activity.
A few minutes later she returned, stopped and pushed an askew chair neatly under my table before continuing her passage.
She went past again. This time I followed her and she disappeared out of sight.
I sat there thinking what would be more subversive making a big mess or clearing up.
Well given that I have three children I realise I spend my entire waking life clearing up. So I brushed the crumbs into the cup and got up to make my move.
From out of nowhere the cleaner arrived.
I hope it was coincidence.
Friday, 15 August 2008
The Numbers
Only vehicles with licence plates ending in odd numbers were allowed on the road on Friday.
The Beijing authorities implemented this policy in July of banning cars on alternate days depending on their number plates. The scheme, which is scheduled to run until late September, is aimed at cutting congestion and reducing the fumes.
And it was an odd day. You could look up into the sky and it was blue. It wasn’t clear as there were a few clouds around.
But it was a familiar template. And it arrived courtesy of a massive downpour on Thursday. What I’ve found oppressive about Beijing so far has been the lack of height or perspective.
I’m used to looking up into the heavens and thinking with childlike innocence: wow that’s a long way up. I’ve become accustomed to peering into the distance even within the context of a cityscape.
When it’s grey and humid - as it has been for the most part since I arrived 10 days ago – it’s easy to feel leaden and oppressed.
I guess that’s how Michael Phelps’s opponents would regard themselves.
Normal service was resumed in the swimming pool where the 23 year old from Baltimore claimed gold medal number six. That’s 12 amassed since the 2000 Olympic Games in Sydney. This latest bauble came in the 200 metres individual medley. It was another world record.
Ryan Lochte, one of Phelps’s best buddies on the US team, won the 200 metres backstroke final and then had to get out of the pool and prepare for the medley final. He got a bronze in that so that was a marvellous feat for a man who, when asked about his diet during the games, gave a ringing endorsement to fast foods and one American burger chain in particular.
But while McLochte was adding another client to his portfolio of sponsors, one of the worst breaches of protocol was unfolding in the corner of the press conference room.
A bunch of German journalists who’d set up a press conference within the room before Lochte entered, were continuing to quiz their man.
And they didn’t seem to mind carrying on while Lochte and Aaron Peirsol were trying to talk about their 200 metres backstroke final.
The corps of volunteers who usually assure the smooth efficiency of the room were flummoxed.
They waited and hoped the miscreants would stop. Nothing of the sort.
Worse, they moved into a more central position and the din started to rise.
Eventually a reluctant volunteer began trying to shoo the pack out. They took their time.
Either their decorum had been frazzled by the gold medal success of Britta Steffen in the 100 metres freestyle final that morning or I was witnessing their usual modus operandi.
Very odd.
The Beijing authorities implemented this policy in July of banning cars on alternate days depending on their number plates. The scheme, which is scheduled to run until late September, is aimed at cutting congestion and reducing the fumes.
And it was an odd day. You could look up into the sky and it was blue. It wasn’t clear as there were a few clouds around.
But it was a familiar template. And it arrived courtesy of a massive downpour on Thursday. What I’ve found oppressive about Beijing so far has been the lack of height or perspective.
I’m used to looking up into the heavens and thinking with childlike innocence: wow that’s a long way up. I’ve become accustomed to peering into the distance even within the context of a cityscape.
When it’s grey and humid - as it has been for the most part since I arrived 10 days ago – it’s easy to feel leaden and oppressed.
I guess that’s how Michael Phelps’s opponents would regard themselves.
Normal service was resumed in the swimming pool where the 23 year old from Baltimore claimed gold medal number six. That’s 12 amassed since the 2000 Olympic Games in Sydney. This latest bauble came in the 200 metres individual medley. It was another world record.
Ryan Lochte, one of Phelps’s best buddies on the US team, won the 200 metres backstroke final and then had to get out of the pool and prepare for the medley final. He got a bronze in that so that was a marvellous feat for a man who, when asked about his diet during the games, gave a ringing endorsement to fast foods and one American burger chain in particular.
But while McLochte was adding another client to his portfolio of sponsors, one of the worst breaches of protocol was unfolding in the corner of the press conference room.
A bunch of German journalists who’d set up a press conference within the room before Lochte entered, were continuing to quiz their man.
And they didn’t seem to mind carrying on while Lochte and Aaron Peirsol were trying to talk about their 200 metres backstroke final.
The corps of volunteers who usually assure the smooth efficiency of the room were flummoxed.
They waited and hoped the miscreants would stop. Nothing of the sort.
Worse, they moved into a more central position and the din started to rise.
Eventually a reluctant volunteer began trying to shoo the pack out. They took their time.
Either their decorum had been frazzled by the gold medal success of Britta Steffen in the 100 metres freestyle final that morning or I was witnessing their usual modus operandi.
Very odd.
Thursday, 14 August 2008
The Corner
Oh yes I’ve settled in. Well and truly into my stride. It must be something to do with recovery from the jet lag. It might in fact have something to do with being better lagged.
I was finding it slightly odd that I was sniffing despite temperatures being between 88 and 92F. All the pre-games publicity about the environment made me think it might be something to do with air quality.
But I think it’s the air conditioning. I’m not used to it. Numbing humidity outside into the Ice Station Zebra that is the International Broadcast Centre.
For a press conference involving the soon to be anointed world number one tennis player Rafael Nadal and the rest of the Spain team, I went from the ice station out into the clammy madness and into the Main Press Centre which must also be microclimatically linked to the polar caps.
Not good.
To offset these extremes I’ve now started wearing a jacket inside the IBC.
It's bizarre that I need to think about extra layers in these sort of temperatures but ay, there’s the rub.
I feel cosier and that’s made me feel better or it’s perhaps overheating my self-belief.
While being given a cordial but functional tour of the Olympic Village Pin Centre, the pin ambassador was explaining to me the environmentally friendly properties of the centre.
She added: “China is a big country and so we’ve got to be aware of not making too much pollution.”
“Is that something your generation is more aware of? I inquired. “What, you’re 22? 23?....are those the kind of things you were told about during your school days…..?
“No I’m 19......”
“Oh I’m sorry, it’s just that your English is so good I thought you must be older...”
Even I knew the needle had exploded off the smarmometer. But I needed to oil myself out of a glaring error. But Chen Xi – all 19 years of her – guided me a tad more fervently around the centre outlining in far more detail the whizzer projects.
There’s one in which the athletes are given a T shirt emblazoned with: “I’m From Earth” because it has been made from five recycled plastic bottles.
Indeed as she was telling me, a Croatian athlete was measuring up for his free sample. He was XXL and actually looked like he was hewn from granite.
The drift is to hand the T shirts it out to the competitors so that when they wear it they will remember their time in Beijing and also highlight China’s increasing desire for environmental engagement. When I spoke to Ms Chen only 5,000 of the 11,000athletes staying in the Olympic Village had taken up the offer.
I suggested that any leftovers should be handed out to the journalists. “That’s always a great way to get the message across,” I added.
“That’s a good idea. I will say it to my manager.”
Touché.
I was finding it slightly odd that I was sniffing despite temperatures being between 88 and 92F. All the pre-games publicity about the environment made me think it might be something to do with air quality.
But I think it’s the air conditioning. I’m not used to it. Numbing humidity outside into the Ice Station Zebra that is the International Broadcast Centre.
For a press conference involving the soon to be anointed world number one tennis player Rafael Nadal and the rest of the Spain team, I went from the ice station out into the clammy madness and into the Main Press Centre which must also be microclimatically linked to the polar caps.
Not good.
To offset these extremes I’ve now started wearing a jacket inside the IBC.
It's bizarre that I need to think about extra layers in these sort of temperatures but ay, there’s the rub.
I feel cosier and that’s made me feel better or it’s perhaps overheating my self-belief.
While being given a cordial but functional tour of the Olympic Village Pin Centre, the pin ambassador was explaining to me the environmentally friendly properties of the centre.
She added: “China is a big country and so we’ve got to be aware of not making too much pollution.”
“Is that something your generation is more aware of? I inquired. “What, you’re 22? 23?....are those the kind of things you were told about during your school days…..?
“No I’m 19......”
“Oh I’m sorry, it’s just that your English is so good I thought you must be older...”
Even I knew the needle had exploded off the smarmometer. But I needed to oil myself out of a glaring error. But Chen Xi – all 19 years of her – guided me a tad more fervently around the centre outlining in far more detail the whizzer projects.
There’s one in which the athletes are given a T shirt emblazoned with: “I’m From Earth” because it has been made from five recycled plastic bottles.
Indeed as she was telling me, a Croatian athlete was measuring up for his free sample. He was XXL and actually looked like he was hewn from granite.
The drift is to hand the T shirts it out to the competitors so that when they wear it they will remember their time in Beijing and also highlight China’s increasing desire for environmental engagement. When I spoke to Ms Chen only 5,000 of the 11,000athletes staying in the Olympic Village had taken up the offer.
I suggested that any leftovers should be handed out to the journalists. “That’s always a great way to get the message across,” I added.
“That’s a good idea. I will say it to my manager.”
Touché.
Wednesday, 13 August 2008
The Olympian
Just one day after taking my hat off to the Australian swimmer Hayden Stoeckel for overcoming his fear of pain and talking to journalists, it seems appropriate to glory, laud and honour Michael Phelps. The one time youngster with attention deficit disorder has metamorphosed into a concentrated champion.
Number four and five came on Wednesday. Not talking about buses here but Phelps’s gold medals tally.
Sitting in the commentary positions I was looking down on the chap in lane four of the 200 metres butterfly final and was thinking he’s not mashing up the opposition in the way that he usually does.
The 23 year old from Baltimore won nevertheless in a world record time of 1:52.03. It was the third world record we’d seen that morning.
The first was set in the first semi-final of the 100 metres freestyle by the Frenchman Alain Bernard. He’d seen his mark eclipsed by the Australian glamour boy Eamon Holmes on Monday in the 4x100m freestyle relay final.
And then to top it all…Bernard was passed in the final centimetres by the American Jason Lezak who claimed gold. Ouch. Stripped and fleeced.
So Bernard’s fist pumping on Wednesday after posting 47.20 seconds was a way of marking out his terrain.
So when Holmes lined up for the second semi-final? Me? I ducked to avoid the wave of testosterone.
Holmes has suspended his much publicised relationship with fellow Australian swimmer Stephanie Rice to concentrate on his aquatic actions.
The beau dived in and 47.05 seconds later he’d taken back the world record. Cue some ripper, good on yer mate fist pumping.
When Bernard and Holmes rejoin the beefcake stakes on Thursday morning, I’m taking a bucket along so I can later bottle the pheromones from that splash of cultures.
Consequently Phelps’s fourth gold of the games and his rise to the pinnacle of a hallowed elite was all the more impressive and graceful.
I’m sure Phelps is good for a few gallons of adrenalin and he acquired number four, it would seem, against the odds.
Athletes, as we realise all too well, are machines. Once they start their journey “into the moment” (Rice’s phrase), anything which is not preordained can unleash the most fearsome meltdowns.
Jessica Schipper had a suit malfunction just before the final of the 100 metres butterfly final on Monday. Her Australian teammate, Libby Trickett, helped to calm her down.
Trickett who won the gold spoke of Schipper’s resilience to return from the netherlands of disaster and swim into third place.
“We’ve all been there,” bemoaned Trickett.
Phelps revealed on Wednesday that his goggles were full of water during the final stages of the butterfly final. “I couldn’t see, he said. “I was trying to make out the ‘T’ on the bottom to try and judge my turn and my finish but I was more or less just trying to count strokes because I know how many strokes I take per fifty and I was hoping to be dead on so I could hit the walls perfectly.”
Ah perfection. That old chestnut.
Phelps added. “I was able to get my hand on the wall first and it was a best time but I think I was just disappointed because I know I can go faster than that.”
It was a world record.
Now that’s top posturing.
Number four and five came on Wednesday. Not talking about buses here but Phelps’s gold medals tally.
Sitting in the commentary positions I was looking down on the chap in lane four of the 200 metres butterfly final and was thinking he’s not mashing up the opposition in the way that he usually does.
The 23 year old from Baltimore won nevertheless in a world record time of 1:52.03. It was the third world record we’d seen that morning.
The first was set in the first semi-final of the 100 metres freestyle by the Frenchman Alain Bernard. He’d seen his mark eclipsed by the Australian glamour boy Eamon Holmes on Monday in the 4x100m freestyle relay final.
And then to top it all…Bernard was passed in the final centimetres by the American Jason Lezak who claimed gold. Ouch. Stripped and fleeced.
So Bernard’s fist pumping on Wednesday after posting 47.20 seconds was a way of marking out his terrain.
So when Holmes lined up for the second semi-final? Me? I ducked to avoid the wave of testosterone.
Holmes has suspended his much publicised relationship with fellow Australian swimmer Stephanie Rice to concentrate on his aquatic actions.
The beau dived in and 47.05 seconds later he’d taken back the world record. Cue some ripper, good on yer mate fist pumping.
When Bernard and Holmes rejoin the beefcake stakes on Thursday morning, I’m taking a bucket along so I can later bottle the pheromones from that splash of cultures.
Consequently Phelps’s fourth gold of the games and his rise to the pinnacle of a hallowed elite was all the more impressive and graceful.
I’m sure Phelps is good for a few gallons of adrenalin and he acquired number four, it would seem, against the odds.
Athletes, as we realise all too well, are machines. Once they start their journey “into the moment” (Rice’s phrase), anything which is not preordained can unleash the most fearsome meltdowns.
Jessica Schipper had a suit malfunction just before the final of the 100 metres butterfly final on Monday. Her Australian teammate, Libby Trickett, helped to calm her down.
Trickett who won the gold spoke of Schipper’s resilience to return from the netherlands of disaster and swim into third place.
“We’ve all been there,” bemoaned Trickett.
Phelps revealed on Wednesday that his goggles were full of water during the final stages of the butterfly final. “I couldn’t see, he said. “I was trying to make out the ‘T’ on the bottom to try and judge my turn and my finish but I was more or less just trying to count strokes because I know how many strokes I take per fifty and I was hoping to be dead on so I could hit the walls perfectly.”
Ah perfection. That old chestnut.
Phelps added. “I was able to get my hand on the wall first and it was a best time but I think I was just disappointed because I know I can go faster than that.”
It was a world record.
Now that’s top posturing.
Tuesday, 12 August 2008
The Salute
Since I'm amid all these Olympian values, it seems only apt to hail wondrous achievement much in the same way that the antennae are tuned to detect bunkum.
For this reason on Tuesday I unreservedly take my hat off to the affable Australian swimmer Hayden Stoeckel.
The self-avowedly shy country boy from Berri, South Australia, won the 100 metres backstroke bronze medal on the most salient sporting stage behind the legend that is Aaron Peirsol and his fellow American Matt Grevers.
Stoeckel who trains in Adelaide, the main town in South Australia, came in to face the media and instantly declared that he didn’t like facing the media. So much so that he’d even underperformed in races to avoid the glare of limelight.
He’s been given some training, he said, which had helped him conquer his trepidation about being up close and personal with the wolves.
But truth be told, it was an adoring pack that he encountered after his efforts in the pool. Mind you at 6ft 5ins tall, I’d dare anyone to try and rile the lad.
Questions were more biographical about his parents and what he did for hobbies.
“I just like to watch footie and hang out with me mates,” he replied. It seemed perfectly normal and healthy for someone who’d turned 24 two days into the games.
He also revealed that he’d given up swimming eight years ago but was persuaded to get back into the pool by his parents.
More recently there’s been work with a psychologist to help him accept that suffering is good for his art.
On Monday Stoeckel had become a contender for the 100 metres backstroke after setting the fastest time in the semi finals in a new Olympic record of 52.97 seconds.
His coaches in the Australian camp quickly calmed him down by telling him that he still had a final to race.
They did a good job.
By contrast another Australian, Leisel Jones, was so comfortable with the cameras and the questions on Tuesday that you could have mistaken her for a meejah darling.
But then again she has been told since her mid teens that she is the anointed one in the breastroke. She was selected for the Australian team at 14 and at the Sydney Olympics in 2000 won silver.
When she set a world record in the 200m breaststroke in the run up to the Athens games for years later, she was expected to take the gold. But it didn’t work out like that.
She came third in the 100 metres and second in the 200 metres.
Now at the ripe old age of 22. She was voluble as she outlined her odyssey from the despair and defeat in Greece to the glory and gold in China.
The message essentially was that there was more to her life than swimming.
What I find fascinating about being in Beijing is hearing these tales of the intangible. The driven one becomes a tougher competitor by gaining a wider outlook and the taciturn one explodes through embracing focus.
“You’ve got to hurt to succeed,” said Stoeckel. “I never liked pain. As soon as I hit that pain barrier I’d back off. And I’ve just learned now that you’ve got to push it.
“ If you hurt in training you’re not going to hurt in a race. You do 32 100s and it’s just hurts and hurts and you come out and do 100 metres and you think I can do 32 of these.
“Then you come out here and do 100m and swim awesome and not hurt and it’s just an amazing feeling.”
Will you get recognised when you go back to Berri? slurped one of the wolves. “Oh yes because it’s not very big. I might even get noticed in Adelaide…”
A shy lad looked worried for an instant.
But with his height and what he’s done, people aren’t likely to take chunks out of him.
For this reason on Tuesday I unreservedly take my hat off to the affable Australian swimmer Hayden Stoeckel.
The self-avowedly shy country boy from Berri, South Australia, won the 100 metres backstroke bronze medal on the most salient sporting stage behind the legend that is Aaron Peirsol and his fellow American Matt Grevers.
Stoeckel who trains in Adelaide, the main town in South Australia, came in to face the media and instantly declared that he didn’t like facing the media. So much so that he’d even underperformed in races to avoid the glare of limelight.
He’s been given some training, he said, which had helped him conquer his trepidation about being up close and personal with the wolves.
But truth be told, it was an adoring pack that he encountered after his efforts in the pool. Mind you at 6ft 5ins tall, I’d dare anyone to try and rile the lad.
Questions were more biographical about his parents and what he did for hobbies.
“I just like to watch footie and hang out with me mates,” he replied. It seemed perfectly normal and healthy for someone who’d turned 24 two days into the games.
He also revealed that he’d given up swimming eight years ago but was persuaded to get back into the pool by his parents.
More recently there’s been work with a psychologist to help him accept that suffering is good for his art.
On Monday Stoeckel had become a contender for the 100 metres backstroke after setting the fastest time in the semi finals in a new Olympic record of 52.97 seconds.
His coaches in the Australian camp quickly calmed him down by telling him that he still had a final to race.
They did a good job.
By contrast another Australian, Leisel Jones, was so comfortable with the cameras and the questions on Tuesday that you could have mistaken her for a meejah darling.
But then again she has been told since her mid teens that she is the anointed one in the breastroke. She was selected for the Australian team at 14 and at the Sydney Olympics in 2000 won silver.
When she set a world record in the 200m breaststroke in the run up to the Athens games for years later, she was expected to take the gold. But it didn’t work out like that.
She came third in the 100 metres and second in the 200 metres.
Now at the ripe old age of 22. She was voluble as she outlined her odyssey from the despair and defeat in Greece to the glory and gold in China.
The message essentially was that there was more to her life than swimming.
What I find fascinating about being in Beijing is hearing these tales of the intangible. The driven one becomes a tougher competitor by gaining a wider outlook and the taciturn one explodes through embracing focus.
“You’ve got to hurt to succeed,” said Stoeckel. “I never liked pain. As soon as I hit that pain barrier I’d back off. And I’ve just learned now that you’ve got to push it.
“ If you hurt in training you’re not going to hurt in a race. You do 32 100s and it’s just hurts and hurts and you come out and do 100 metres and you think I can do 32 of these.
“Then you come out here and do 100m and swim awesome and not hurt and it’s just an amazing feeling.”
Will you get recognised when you go back to Berri? slurped one of the wolves. “Oh yes because it’s not very big. I might even get noticed in Adelaide…”
A shy lad looked worried for an instant.
But with his height and what he’s done, people aren’t likely to take chunks out of him.
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