|Jamaican water; loaded with Lucozade and creatine.|
A week ago, here in Central London, the city was buzzing with an energetic glow. Seven days later, the feeling has grown to a mass euphoric wave of positivity. The closest I have ever felt this, was sixteen years ago during the heart of Euro 1996; this Olympics transcends the same essence, times by one-thousand. I was always aware how a city is transformed by the games, but being in it, around it, and just to bask in the nature of how unifying it truly is, is a remarkable form of beauty to behold. Olympic fever has reached such a height, that on the train into the city, the Metro newspaper was covered in wall-to-wall stories concerning London 2012; a far more pleasurable experience, than the usual murderers, government bullshit, and Eastenders plot-lines, we are accustomed to.
But back to Bolt, and Hyde Park. In the meantime of the afternoon, I managed to accidentally miss out on all Britain's medal achievements. I left my house and the Sailing march of Big Ben Ainslee, as I was unsure of what the hell was going on amidst all the dirty air and downwind pumping; only for two minutes down the road, to receive the now customary text message from my eldest brother, proclaiming Team GB's latest Gold medal success - in the sailing, of course. Andy Murray's Tennis Gold was of personal choice (My brother kept me updated on this one) - as he always loses whenever I watch him. I considered this thought ridiculous, then entered Hyde Park during the last few points of his mixed-double final - which he lost; though Silver medallists, are not really losers at all. The bronze in Cycling, and the Silver and Bronze in Gymnastics, I never even knew about till an hour ago. The solitary exception was Christine Ohurogu's 400 meter Silver; which was impossible to miss on a giant screen.
And yet, it was worthwhile, in an odd kind of way. We still managed to catch a solid Hockey comeback from Team Gb against Australia, a water polo match, some wrestling - my girlfriend expected it to be like the WWF, before I explained how amateur wresting is more professional, then professional wresting. Some women's Boxing; new to the games, and even though I don't personally like females fighting, if dudes can be pugilists, why not the ladies too. And a little fencing as well. Five hours after all this, the night was all about Bolt. Strutting around like a peacock without a care in the world, starting out the blocks like a lazy schoolboy, yet still running the second fastest 100 meters time, of all time - only behind his 2009 World Championship world record. Myself and my girlfriend - along with 80,000 other people, knew we were seeing something special - anybody lucky enough to have been in the Olympic stadium tonight, or yesterday for that matter, will never forget the last 48 hours.
Olympians are a different breed - they are the best out there. Gold medallists, are the best of the best. Guys like Usain Bolt - and Roger Federer, who also was in action today, are the very best of the very best. And if Olympians are a different breed, a guy like Bolt, is a whole other animal altogether. And whatever it is they put in that Jamaican water, I want my gym to begin supplying it. Until the next time...