Showing posts with label olympics. Show all posts
Showing posts with label olympics. Show all posts

Saturday, 18 August 2012

The Olympic Spirit

And here is the article I talked about last week. In other news, I own a flat. Still working on the "Home of CyclingDiver" sign to go beside the door!


Now that the Games have finished, what memories are we left with? Undoubtedly, we have seen some truly incredible feats of athleticism. No-one who saw Usain Bolt winning any of his three gold medals will forget the sight. As my best friend said to her young son before the 100m final: “You need to be looking at the television right now, and don’t blink or you’ll miss it!”. And you could say the same of Mo Farrah’s astonishing double gold in the 10,000m and 5000m races, Jessica Ennis’s victory in the women’s heptathlon, or Bradley Wiggins’ winning both the Tour de France and an Olympic time trial gold in the space of a few weeks? 

All physical feats that most human beings could never hope to match, yet perhaps what appeals most to us are the human stories behind each triumph. Experts in the field of cycling will no doubt rave over Bradley Wiggins’ remarkable achievement, but who among us, regardless of how ignorant we are of cycling, could fail to be moved by the fact that his first action, on learning he’d won the gold, was to get back onto his bike and go in search of his wife and children? Or any of the following moments:

  • Gemma Gibbons’ reaction to winning the silver medal in the women’s 78kg class judo, tearfully mouthing “I love you, Mum”, in memory of her dead mother.  
  • Mo Farrah, a Somalia-born immigrant to the UK, being cheered onto two gold medals by the British public before the eyes of the world. 
  • Kathie Copeland’s incredulous comment to her rowing partner Sophie Hosking on winning the women’s lightweight double sculls: “We’re going to be on a stamp!” 
  • Andy Murray defeating Roger Federer to win the gold at the same place where he had lost the Wimbledon final to Federer four weeks ago, sprinting to the player’s box to celebrate with his friends and family after defeating Roger Federer – then reaching out to hug a young fan.

These stories (and the many, many more that could be added to them after the last two weeks) are not unique to these Games. Earlier games too saw human beings transcend nationality and even race to offer each other a hand of friendship and support. Most people have seen the “Black Power” salute at the 1968 Mexico City Olympics, performed by John Carlos and Tommie Smith, but how many know that the gloves they were wearing actually belonged to Peter Norman, the third athlete on the podium? Norman, a supporter of civil rights (he is wearing a civil rights badge in the photograph), saw that they had forgotten their gloves. He approached and offered them his gloves to wear. (38 years later, Carlos and Smith were pallbearers at Norman’s funeral.) 

One final story, this one from the famous, or perhaps notorious, 1936 Berlin Olympics. Most of us have heard of Jesse Owens, the famous African-American athlete whose four gold medals, won in front of the Nazi regime, demonstrated the hollowness of the racist Nazi ideology. Fewer have heard of Luz Long, the German athlete and national hero who competed with Owen in the long jump. 

During the competition, Long noticed that Owen was struggling during the qualifying rounds for the long jump. He walked across and suggested that Owen try an adjustment to his technique. Owen took his advice, and went on to win the gold medal in the event – at which point he and Long embraced and walked arm-in-arm to the dressing room, posing for photos together. 

Owen said afterwards: “You can melt down all the medals and cups I have and they wouldn't be a plating on the 24-carat friendship I felt for Luz Long at that moment. Hitler must have gone crazy watching us embrace."

Saturday, 28 July 2012

The Bells! The Bells!


Well, this was going to be another post about diving. But I do other things too, and one of those things on Friday was to mount my bicycle and set forth at an hour earlier than I am accustomed to leaving my home on a weekday, to go and ring a bell and herald the arrival of the Olympics. 

The best reason I can give for doing this was “It seems a shame not to join in”. For those who don’t know what I’m talking about, I was ringing a bell as part of Martin Creed’s mass art project, “Work No 1197. All The Bells In A Country Rung As Quickly And As Loudly As Possible For Three Minutes.” I saw an article about it on the Thursday, thought, “Ah, hang on, I meant to find out about that”. A quick Google later, and it turned out that Arts Council North East were taking part. 

I arrived at their rather nice office (far better than the Civic – it has hot water and heating and everything) at the back of Central Station on a sunny morning, locked the bike to the nearest railing, and trotted indoors. A motley collection of bells lay on a table, surrounded by twenty people with that mixture of embarassment and good cheer that the British exhibit when asked to do anything communal in public. 

We trotted on out, and I unlocked the bike and wheeled it round. I have a rather good bike bell as it has that unmistakeable “bring bring!” sound everyone associates with a bike. (Hence why I have it – I like a bell that says to people: “Bike!”. I have flashing lights for the same reason.) I thought it would be rather nice to include a bicycle, even if it did mean I had to lug the bike around with me whilst everyone else held a dainty bell. Except for the organiser, Bill, who had enterprisingly made his own bell from a tin can with a hole in and one end taken off, a piece of string and a washer. 

We stood in the sunshine and listened intently to the radio, then when the signal went at 8.12am it was all go. Amazingly, the motley collection of bells blended together into a charming melody, although one china bell was rung so hard it cracked! People trotted around taking photos with one hand and dinging valiantly away with the other, and even a passing train driver joined in on his horn. We made it onto Radio Newcastle, so if you were listening, the bicycle bell was me – I haven’t rung it so much since I nearly got run over by a lorry. 

As it finished, we smiled at each other and went indoors for tea and bacon sandwiches.