The True Olympic Moment

Now, thanks to the miracle of YouTube and a conversation with a long-time friend who was actually in attendance in Rio de Janeiro, images from the 17 days, many of which involve my favorite Olympic sport (track and field, by the way) continue to scroll through my head.

 

With so much to work with, where do I start?

 

How about the supremely talented, unabashedly flamboyant Usain Bolt?

 

Gold medals in the 100, 200, and 4x100, third Olympics in a row. Can’t beat that. In fact, no sprinter ever has. The pride of Jamaica talks a great game, and he delivers like none other ever has.

 

Usually, showboating turns me off, but there’s something about the joy with which Bolt carries himself, the looseness with which he competes, and the charisma he exudes that I find refreshing. He never directs his antics toward opponents. He answers reporters’ and commentators’ oft-redundant questions with patience and good nature. And he even stopped one televised interview mid-sentence to observe the playing of the United States’ National Anthem. Can’t beat that, either.  He says he’s retiring. Hopefully, he won’t. He’s great for the sport. Actually, he’s great for sports in general.

 

Then there was Justin Gatlin, the 34-year-old American sprinter, the Gold Medalist in the 100 in Athens in 2004 who was sidelined from 2006-2010 after testing positive for a banned substance. To his credit, Gatlin resurrected his career, and in what will possibly be his last Olympics placed second in the 100 in Rio.

 

Then, in the 200 semifinals, where the top two in each heat advance – the remaining lanes are filled based on time – he slowed at 70 meters, then cruised home assuming he had a guaranteed spot, only to find that a competitor nipped him at the tape denying him the opportunity to advance.

 

When questioned afterwards by announcer Ato Bolden, a former world-class sprinter, Gatlin offered that his ankle had tightened up.

 

Really, Justin? Are you kidding? You’re one of the fastest human beings on earth. Kids are watching. Run through the finish, dude. Oh, and don’t make excuses.

 

Then there was Great Britain’s Mo Farah, a native of Somalia and the 5,000 and 10,000 Gold Medalist in London. His goal was to repeat his accomplishments from 2012, but in the 10, he took a tumble early on and hit the track hard as competitors raced past. In an instant, he was on his feet. His stride quickly returned. The cameras caught him giving a “thumbs up” and with a smile, no less. He won, of course, and returned to capture the 5,000 to become the first repeat champ in the two events since Finland’s Lasse Viren in 1976.

 

There was South Africa’s Wayde van Neikerk, who from the outside lane ran 43.03 in the 400 to win Gold and break a 17-year-old world record, then comported himself afterwards as if he’s just completed a leisurely jog in the park.

 

There were Abbey D’Agostino (USA) and Nikki Hamblin (New Zealand), who got their feet tangled while running in close quarters during their 5,000m heat, hit the deck, and in a blink of an eye found themselves out of contention. In true Olympic spirit, D’Agostino helped Hamblin up, and the two finished together despite the fact that D’Agostino suffered a torn anterior cruciate ligament and meniscus and strained medial collateral ligament in her right knee. Hamblin was granted a spot in the finals, and the pair were awarded the Rio 2016 Fair Play Award by the International Fair Play Committee for their spontaneous display of true sportsmanship and courage.

 

There were myriad other splendid performances in a host of sports that reflected years of dedication, strength of will, poise under pressure, and commitment to excellence.

 

What most inspired me, though, occurred not on the track or in the pool or at any athletic venue for that matter. It was a television commercial, a minute-long Apple “Shot on iPhone” social commentary, thankfully oft-repeated, that showed a montage of pictures of citizens of the world accompanied by a sound track of the poet Maya Angelou reciting her classic, “Human Family.”

 

Her message about the beauty of diversity was far better, far more moving and meaningful, and far more uplifting than any personal best, world record, or fantastic finish.

         -- Weldon Bradshaw