Olympic Diary : Day 7

That man Phelps again, a Wimbledon epic , 2 iconic images and an unheralded Indian

It’s getting to be a bit of a routine (and perhaps boring to read) to write about Michael Phelps on this blog – sure there are other athletes doing splendidly but do not get even a mention. Phelps has won only 3 golds (might make it 4 if he wins the relay tonight) – half of his Beijing tally : Preposterous drop in performance. But I still cannot help writing about him. I am something of a dreamer and during certain delusions of grandeur, I imagine some known (yet unborn) individual might stumble upon this blog 50 or maybe 70 years later – if the age of information as we know it still persists – and read about how much of a privilege (not to mention an opportunity) it was to watch Michael Phelps reel off Olympic medals like withdrawing cash at an ATM. Even as I grew up reading enviously the joys of the fortunate ones who described elatedly the phenomenon of Bradman, the exuberance of Trumper, the contorted face of Zatopek , the wizardry of Dhyan Chand, the magic of Puskas’ Magyars and so on – similarly , even the fortunate youtube generation, might appreciate the sense of pervading history to have witnessed these great deeds live.
In one single day, we were privileged to watch 2 iconic legends (for want of a better superlative) showcase a tenacity and steel to literally will themselves to the finish line even though neither might have been at their imperious best.

Phelps touched 7^th during the split in the 100 m butterfly and was visibly behind the leader heading into the last 20 m, when pretty much out of nothing,  he pulled out an astonishing turn of speed, outsprinting even that manic closer , Chad le Clos , who’d pipped him to the touch in the 200 m event. The iconic image of the evening was not his but that of his mother Debbie once his name was confirmed as the winner. For Phelps himself, standing alone for one last time on top of the podium, tears were hard to keep back, as the strains of the Star Spangled Banner filled the arena.

Federer and del Potro after their epic

Michael's Mom Debbie 

If anyone in the entire Olympic Village can claim equal iconic status to Michael Phelps (if not as an Olympian certainly as a sportsman) , it has to be Roger Federer. From the time London was announced as the venue of the 2012 games and the All-England club the venue of the tennis tournament, Federer has set his eyes on this moment. 4-5 years back in an interview questioning him of probable retirement dates, the Swiss maestro replied that there was no thought of retirement before the London games as he wanted that gold medal at the Wimbledon turf. Last night , it all nearly went pear shaped. Up against an inspired Juan Martin del Potro, who I’d earmarked for greatness before injuries struck, Federer was playing awfully. Routine forehands were being blooped into the crowd, the Argentine’s ground strokes repeatedly pined Federer on the backfoot and reminded one of that awesome US Open Final. However the great man clutched on, finding that big serve whenever it was really needed. It was at an astonishing 17-17 in the 3^rd set that del Potro finally blinked and Federer had won his shot at the gold. Whether he pulls of the victory against Andy Murray is another question , but the match gave us one of the more iconic Olympic moments of all time – topped off by the heartfelt embrace at the end.

Oh Yes! There were other events as well – the US dominated the pool yet again, the Brits the cycling velodrome with Golden Girl “Queen” Victoria Pendleton claiming the kierin. A soft spoken Indian soldier (whom neither the media nor his countrymen knew existed) shot his way to the silver medal in the rapid pistol event, providing a fitting answer for his more touted countrymen who perhaps exhausted all their energy in creating ruckus before the games before failing to show up on the big stage.