Yeah, yeah, I know ... he's the world's premier sporting supernova and gets 5 million bucks just for showing up these days (and so he should, probably even more).
And yes, of course, he does not care one iota what some pimply little punk in rural England (me) thinks about his antics. Who am I to have an opinion?
But it's all becoming clear to me now.
Yesterday was Usain Bolt's 23rd birthday. He got a standing ovation from the entire Berlin stadium. How cool was that? Then he clowned around with the Berlin mascot ... and his two fellow competitors on the podium. Spontaneous, unscripted ... and utterly charming. I felt like I knew who he really was.
Why? Because he was being himself. And, by all apearances, he seems like a stand-up guy. Relaxed, fresh faced, beautifully constructed, genuine ... and completely at ease in his own skin.
After watching the whole medal presentation and the way he handled himself, I actually felt pretty bad that I had even thought to criticise his showboating in the past. He is who he is. People love him. And that's obviously enough.
Then the media started to milk the occasion and show footage that they felt would really whip the masses into a frenzy. Usain Bolt doing his jig. Usain Bolt wiping his fingers across his face and leering at the camera. Usain Bolt strutting around like a big, proud rooster.
And then I got it. I finally realised that there are two people.
The one is Usain Bolt, the man. He over-delivers on performance and fulfills the fantasies of any human being who appreciates human movement at its most elegant. He is also unique, serendipidous, confident, self-deprecating and endearing. A genuinely lovely human being without any arrogance to detract from his appeal. Hey, I'd even shake his hand.
Then there's Usain Bolt, the media darling. He's a clown. With that same overblown edge that all clowns have. You know, that wierd thing that makes adults think clowns must be funny to kids, when actually they are scary. Adults just don't get that. And neither does the media.
This "Usain Bolt" is an imposter. A fabrication. A commercial product designed to titillate the baying masses. This is something totally incongruent with Usain Bolt, the enduring legend. And there will come a time when people will realise that the memories that will last are not those that are crass ... but those that are genuine, humble and understated.
A perfect backdrop to majestic magnificence. A man who, in full flight, is cocaine to the senses. But whose smile and instinctive, natural flamboyance makes the media's larger-than-life concoction redundant.
That mascot is proving to be far more special than I could have hoped for.
Showing posts with label Usain Bolt. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Usain Bolt. Show all posts
Saturday, 22 August 2009
Monday, 17 August 2009
Usain Bolt - Beyond Superlatives
Readers of this blog will know that I have been outspoken in the past about the antics of Usain Bolt.
Because I am instinctively opposed to criticism without substance, I have also spent a fair bit of time trying to learn more about this extraordinary athlete. I figure that irrespective of whether or not I appreciate his signature style, at the end of the day how this 22 year-old phenomenon redefines his sport, is what really matters.
This weekend in Berlin Usain Bolt again proved that action speaks so much louder than words. In the final of the mens' 100m, he proved once more that what we are seeing is a whole new era of human performance.
Usian Bolt ran 9.58 seconds to win the World Championship title as fastest man alive. He obliterated his own world mark of 9.69 seconds, set at the Olympic Games last year. From start to finish he was in a class of his own. People will talk of this achievement 100 years from now.
Tyson Gay, running a remarkable 9.71 seconds, finished a distant runner-up, with ex-world record holder Osafa Powell coming in third with 9.84 seconds ... still respectable by any standard. But hardly noticed on the night.
Gay ran the third fastest time in history, but had to content himself with "only" the American record. This must seem vaguely reminiscent of the historical relationship between Mohammed Ali and Joe Frazier. Ali will for many be remembered as "the greatest", while Frazier will be remembered only as a credible opponent.
In another time, he too would have been king. And so it is with the soft-spoken Tyson Gay.
Perhaps Bolt will never again break a world record - his world record, so comprehensively. But then again, it would seem that the world has not seen the full extent of this young man's masterful potential. One can only fantasize.
I'd also like to say that, although I probably will never like the show-boating, it really is of no consequence in light of such a sublime performance. I also acknowledge that Usain Bolt could well have become arrogant beyond belief ... and he hasn't. So I can only take my hat off to him and respect him as a supreme athlete, eclipsing even the superhuman feats of my own personal favourite, Michael Jordon.
And I never thought I'd see that day when I could say that and mean it!
Because I am instinctively opposed to criticism without substance, I have also spent a fair bit of time trying to learn more about this extraordinary athlete. I figure that irrespective of whether or not I appreciate his signature style, at the end of the day how this 22 year-old phenomenon redefines his sport, is what really matters.
This weekend in Berlin Usain Bolt again proved that action speaks so much louder than words. In the final of the mens' 100m, he proved once more that what we are seeing is a whole new era of human performance.
Usian Bolt ran 9.58 seconds to win the World Championship title as fastest man alive. He obliterated his own world mark of 9.69 seconds, set at the Olympic Games last year. From start to finish he was in a class of his own. People will talk of this achievement 100 years from now.
Tyson Gay, running a remarkable 9.71 seconds, finished a distant runner-up, with ex-world record holder Osafa Powell coming in third with 9.84 seconds ... still respectable by any standard. But hardly noticed on the night.
Gay ran the third fastest time in history, but had to content himself with "only" the American record. This must seem vaguely reminiscent of the historical relationship between Mohammed Ali and Joe Frazier. Ali will for many be remembered as "the greatest", while Frazier will be remembered only as a credible opponent.
In another time, he too would have been king. And so it is with the soft-spoken Tyson Gay.
Perhaps Bolt will never again break a world record - his world record, so comprehensively. But then again, it would seem that the world has not seen the full extent of this young man's masterful potential. One can only fantasize.
I'd also like to say that, although I probably will never like the show-boating, it really is of no consequence in light of such a sublime performance. I also acknowledge that Usain Bolt could well have become arrogant beyond belief ... and he hasn't. So I can only take my hat off to him and respect him as a supreme athlete, eclipsing even the superhuman feats of my own personal favourite, Michael Jordon.
And I never thought I'd see that day when I could say that and mean it!
Monday, 27 July 2009
Usain Bolt ... What Might Have Been.
Today's post is going to be different.
I'm not going to discuss anything related to health, but rather I'm going to express my opinion on something that disturbed me recently. Flat out got my goat!
You see, I had the privilege of watching Usain Bolt in action on the track, doing what he does best. And that of course is showing people just how beautifully a human being can run when everything comes together in one package.
Here's a man who is noticeably larger than his competitors, yet far more graceful. He's stronger, yet less bulky. More powerful ... with less apparent effort.
He just flows ... and it's a joy to behold.
Ever watched a cheetah in slow-motion? Usain Bolt is more majestic. His win at last year's Olympics was 9.69 seconds of undiluted fantasy. What athlete has not dreamed of having an extra gear and obliterating the competition while barely letting the tiger out the bag? Throttling down as you exceed all previous known boundaries of human performance.
No journalist was able to find adequate superlatives to describe what no-one had ever seen before. I still get chills remembering the moment when he cut the afterburners and coasted into territory no man had dreamed of before. No words seemed appropriate, or even necessary. Pure, sweet emotion.
A moment that transcended all sport. Sublime dominance tempered with animal grace. A Tyson uppercut. A Federer passing shot. Phelps a body length ahead of that red line. A Jordanesque display that eclipsed all else that had been seen before by us mere mortals.
Surely no moment in sport would ever match those brief seconds?
And then the showboating started. Not content to savour the perfection of the moment, the press wanted more. The "Lightening Bolt". The wiggling hips. The two fingers to the face thing. The in-the-blocks God-given talent thing. It never stops!
Over-indulgence to the point where I cringe when they replay that most sacred moment in track and field. Like an over-blown orgy. Foreplay forgotten. Romance turned to porn. Exquisite taste perverted to nausea.
For me, what should forever be remembered as perfection, has now morphed into another fairly average, fairly crude, totally uninteresting commodity. A heroin addict wretching in a strange silence.
I used to drop everything to relive those moments. Now, it's like watching an ad for online bingo. Loud. Crude. Missable. Because I know, along with the magic, I am going to be subjected to the rest of it.
How sad is that?
When will we learn that less is more? When will we be content to savour the moment? How I wish that Osafa Powell had been blessed instead. How I wish he had the magic dust to go sub 9.5!
To me, he's the man. Kind. Mishievious. Unassuming. Breathtaking. How it breaks my heart to see him play second fiddle with such dignity.
I actually feel sorry for Usain Bolt. I watch him wiggle and perform as the faceless crowds writhe before him, eating up his crassness, baying for more, bleeding him dry.
When he's interviewed he actually seems like a really nice guy. An authentic human being. A dedicated athlete who trains hard and smart. Maybe even an inspiration for aspiring athletes? Down-to-earth. Humble. Out of character in his role as court jester.
While we're on the subject ... let's hope the "bullet from a gun" that Alberto Contador's PR team seems to be spawning following his Tour De France victory won't diminish another great talent.
At the end of the day they are still human.
I'm not going to discuss anything related to health, but rather I'm going to express my opinion on something that disturbed me recently. Flat out got my goat!
You see, I had the privilege of watching Usain Bolt in action on the track, doing what he does best. And that of course is showing people just how beautifully a human being can run when everything comes together in one package.
Here's a man who is noticeably larger than his competitors, yet far more graceful. He's stronger, yet less bulky. More powerful ... with less apparent effort.
He just flows ... and it's a joy to behold.
Ever watched a cheetah in slow-motion? Usain Bolt is more majestic. His win at last year's Olympics was 9.69 seconds of undiluted fantasy. What athlete has not dreamed of having an extra gear and obliterating the competition while barely letting the tiger out the bag? Throttling down as you exceed all previous known boundaries of human performance.
No journalist was able to find adequate superlatives to describe what no-one had ever seen before. I still get chills remembering the moment when he cut the afterburners and coasted into territory no man had dreamed of before. No words seemed appropriate, or even necessary. Pure, sweet emotion.
A moment that transcended all sport. Sublime dominance tempered with animal grace. A Tyson uppercut. A Federer passing shot. Phelps a body length ahead of that red line. A Jordanesque display that eclipsed all else that had been seen before by us mere mortals.
Surely no moment in sport would ever match those brief seconds?
And then the showboating started. Not content to savour the perfection of the moment, the press wanted more. The "Lightening Bolt". The wiggling hips. The two fingers to the face thing. The in-the-blocks God-given talent thing. It never stops!
Over-indulgence to the point where I cringe when they replay that most sacred moment in track and field. Like an over-blown orgy. Foreplay forgotten. Romance turned to porn. Exquisite taste perverted to nausea.
For me, what should forever be remembered as perfection, has now morphed into another fairly average, fairly crude, totally uninteresting commodity. A heroin addict wretching in a strange silence.
I used to drop everything to relive those moments. Now, it's like watching an ad for online bingo. Loud. Crude. Missable. Because I know, along with the magic, I am going to be subjected to the rest of it.
How sad is that?
When will we learn that less is more? When will we be content to savour the moment? How I wish that Osafa Powell had been blessed instead. How I wish he had the magic dust to go sub 9.5!
To me, he's the man. Kind. Mishievious. Unassuming. Breathtaking. How it breaks my heart to see him play second fiddle with such dignity.
I actually feel sorry for Usain Bolt. I watch him wiggle and perform as the faceless crowds writhe before him, eating up his crassness, baying for more, bleeding him dry.
When he's interviewed he actually seems like a really nice guy. An authentic human being. A dedicated athlete who trains hard and smart. Maybe even an inspiration for aspiring athletes? Down-to-earth. Humble. Out of character in his role as court jester.
While we're on the subject ... let's hope the "bullet from a gun" that Alberto Contador's PR team seems to be spawning following his Tour De France victory won't diminish another great talent.
At the end of the day they are still human.
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