Olympic Impressions from Schinias/Athens. Day 11 - Tuesday 24th August 2004.
This is not intended to be commentary, as that is well covered via TV, radio, the FISA website and the newspapers. Plus it's difficult to get time amongst the other jobs. Here are odd bits and pieces those following the Games may find interesting.
Men's diving was instructional - I now know how they get all those ridiculous camera angles, and I'm pretty sure the divers were rubbing something water-repelling over their bodies before dives, so they could dry off quicker between that and the next one - apparently it hinders them to be wet before they go in. Some of the competitors were worryingly Louganis-close to the springboard as they flipped: if you don't understand that reference then you're a lot younger than me. The judges at the diving pool, unlike gymnastics, are segregated from one another by large vertical boards on either side of their booths, and this means they also can't see the replay on the giant screen above the pool - they have to judge immediately how good a dive is. Better than the actual contest though was the practice session afterwards, when the women's springboard competitors came in to get in some last extra dives - one positively bellyflopped, which I'm pretty sure wasn't on purpose....
I did a bit of work in the diving media area (dismal facilities, so peaceful and almost deserted) and watched one photographer taking pictures of various hacks who had decided to kip on the desks, then wandered out for a stroll round OAKA. In the name of comprehensive reporting for you (and because I needed a new phonecard) I ventured into the "Olympic Superstore" - I can tell you it is a heaving nasty ant-pile of sweaty acquisitive humanity and bangingly loud music. Urgh. And queues a mile long. Double urgh. I escaped, having failed to find anyone selling phone-cards (no surprise there, that would be efficient), and walked round the fountain pool, which is stunning, and forms a long arc with the Athenian hills in the distance at one end and the stadium at the other. Very refreshing.
Then back to the dive hall to collect my computer, and over to the main pool via the smaller square pool. I think the small pool is where the waterpolo took place in the first week, but now that the main pool is unused, it's shifted and the synchronised swimmers have taken over the baby one. And they were practising. Cue the largest flood of male volunteers seen in one place all week, all sauntering over idly to "check the facilities" as they buzzed each other on their mobiles.... Thumping music over the speakers, and pairs of female mannequins in identical swimsuits going through their routines in different corners of the pool. Hilarious. There was also an AOB (Olympic broadcasting organisation) cameraman there practising his camera-swoops to get the right angles - he was having the time of his life, though there wasn't any footage being shown on the big screen.
I don't know if they're marked on it, but the sychronised swimmers' entrances to the arena, and walk to the pool, are choreographed as carefully as anything involving water itself. One duo in Belisha-beacon orange swimsuits looked as if they were trying to imitate the shapes of figures on Greek urns (damn, I've given them legitimacy by correctly identifying the Theme of their Performance!) Ridiculous stuff, all of it. The precision thrashing about is obviously difficult to get right every time, but it's all very jerky, to help it make an impact visually. Anyway, I'm not sure difficult is part of the Olympic repertoire, or we'd have trying to make a million pounds or running up Everest as a Games sport. Thinking of which, I would actually like to see mountain-climbing (free ie no-ropes competitive type) as an Olympic sport - it is very impressive when the top people do it, and requires as much athleticism and body control as anything else here.
Enough giggling at the synchro-dolls, and round, through a positive dust-storm whipped up by the meltemi wind, into the main pool. From the top of here you have an awesome view of OAKA, the nearby hills, and as much of downtown Athens as can be spied round the main stadium. The media side was conveniently in the shade, and I settled down here to watch some very aggressive USA-ITA women's waterpolo, with much chanting from spectators supporting both sides. This made me laugh even more than the synchro - waterpolo is a great sport, but just imagine looking down on it from a vertiginous grandstand, and I'm sure you can see how the perspective made it look like a kid's swimming pool, with naughty little girls occasionally bonking each other on the nose with a yellow ball, or slapping the water crossly. [That's bonking as in the hitting, for those of you with meagre vocabularies or evil minds.]
I particularly like the fact that they occasionally flip a splash of water towards other players - I don't know if it's allowed, but it looks like a good putting-off tactic. The ball flies about from hand to hand as if they're using velcro - their fingers must be pretty strong to grip it with such assurance. The other excellent feature of water-polo is that the ball starts in the centre of the pool (in a stabilising ring) with the two teams at their respective ends - when the whistle goes, they have to race to see who reaches it first. I'm on for doing this in other ball sports - as the swimmers arrow towards it, echeloning so that the fastest centre-forward can reach the ball while the others slot into their tactical spaces, it's a great visual spectacle.
The game was very close, made more tense by the fact that both teams constantly substituted people, and each had several goal-shots which ricocheted off the goal-frame. Italy finally edged it 6-5, cue much finger-pointing and fury by the American coach, weeping players, and ecstatic war-dances from the Italian supporters. The final Italian goal was a cracker, flying around the goal zone so fast that I almost missed which swimmer finally slammed it into the net. As I left, the pool was filling up with Aussies and Greeks for the next match: yellow/green and blue/white on the terraces, and below, two teams trying desperately to concentrate on warming-up despite the incessant yelling.
As the sun was setting, I moved into the main stadium for what promised to be a superb evening's athletics. Seb Coe was being interviewed on the trackside as a prelim to the men's 1500m and to Kelly Holmes' bid for the middle-distance double, long-jumpers were out on the far side warming up, and the tiring decathletes were getting themselves together for the ninth effort out of ten - javelin - before ending on their own 1500m. Colin Jackson was mugging up on his background facts in the BBC eyrie above me, and the stands were filling up rapidly. Most important item of attire in hot countries is a bath-towel sized national flag: not just for waving to competitors, but also to wrap round you against the burning sun. The Brits were in blue this time, and I spotted more rowers enjoying watching someone else in action and under pressure for a change.
The sky behind the flame grew darker, and a flock of small darting birds (?swallows, ?swifts perhaps) swooped into the stadium and did a dozen fly-bys, probably after flies attracted by the blazing lights above. They made the bowl of the stadium feel smaller, as they flashed so quickly across the vast expanse of grass and track between the two sides. [Talking of grass, I'm pretty sure the mysterious turf-lorries were re-doing the centre field of the stadium after the opening ceremony, which explains one curiosity at least.] Hurdles out for the women's sprint, and they clearly tell the organisers how long their warm-up will be: each has a hurdle turned over U-shaped on its back, to allow a run-off after a practice start. Most decided to try two hurdles, so no. 3 was upturned, but one brave person went for four, and had 5 as a gate out.
It was an amazing evening, plenty of medals decided. Women's 200m racing, also women's 110m hurdles final in which two women bashed hurdles and dropped out. 3000m steeplechase (yes I was right, the waterjump was over the far end from us, beside the flame) won by a trio of grinning Kenyans who didn't seem to worry which order they were in, and then spent half an hour jogging round the track saying thank you to the audience. It later emerged that had they not been waving to the crowd in the last 20m, the winner would probably have been able to set a new Olympic record, which in slow conditions is going some. Muppet. The 'chase itself was very funny - as they leapt over the jump nearest me, they reminded me of the capering stick-figures Redhead uses on its kit. At one point we had long jump, javelin, pole vault, the discus medal ceremony and the 400m hurdles all going on at the same time: mind-boggling. You barely knew where to look, and the crowd were in buoyant mood.
It is inspiring that almost the whole stadium stands up for medal anthems: even those preparing to jump wait for a few moments, turned towards the flags. A few press don't - commentators of course, and some belligerent types who don't approve. But largely, everything stops in tribute. We are talking Olympic golds here, not chocolate pennies, after all. A mad Ethiopian in yellow pajama bottoms had blagged his way into the media section somehow, and danced about gleefully as friends of his (he claimed) won medals, until thrown out, at which point he managed to scrape into the trackside photographers' zone, to get even closer. Photographers, particularly the AOB cameramen doing those close-up shots, can hardly keep up with victory laps - I bet those planning to cover the jog-round of the men's 100m winner go into training for months beforehand. Kelly Holmes dealt with the women's 1500m heat in expert fashion, trundling carefully around behind the posse for 1250m before making a break with a change in gear which seemed effortless. Her official second place was definitely due to letting the rest catch up: she has plenty more to come.
The highlights were at the end of the evening, keeping enthralled spectators pinned to their seats. [Olympic transport, too, means that you have less fear of being stuck in exit queues and on car-park motorways, so people don't make a run for it an hour before the close of action.] First, world record holder El Gerrouj winning his 1500m Olympic gold, cue huge excitement from everyone and a grin a mile wide. Then the decathlon finish, with Dean Macey, despite being too far off the medals to have any hope of getting bronze, finishing fourth overall with a season's best in the run to add to several other performances.
And finally, the women's pole vault had been going all evening, with the top two Russian vaulters, Feofanova and Isinbayeva, bashing away at each other while the rest dropped like flies behind them. The Olympic record, being 4 years old in this rapidly-moving event, was only 4 metres 60 cm, while the world record, set by Isinbayeva in London earlier this year, is 4.90. As they cruised up towards 4.55, only a couple of Poles (no jokes please) were still keeping up with the Russians. Feofanova was the first to set a new Olympic mark, but it was matched, and as the 1500m runners celebrated, the fight went on. They took turns raising the bar and opting out, until finally Isinbayeva won the gold, as Feofanova attempted to leap-frog her training partner's latest mark, and by failing, forfeited the match. I thought that was it, as Isinbayeva rushed to be congratulated by the army of Russian supporters on her side of the stadium. Not a chance. With a wide smile on her face, and cool as a cucumber, the new Olympic champion went to sit down and do up her competition shoes one more time, while the bar was put up to 4.91 for her to attempt a new world record mark too. Boy, was that girl in the zone. She looked as if she was enjoying herself no end, and sat relaxed by the track with her towel round her shoulders, chatting to the AOB boys and waving to the crowd and cameras, as the officials measured and verified that it would be a record attempt. Then, good to go, she picked up her pole, looked carefully at the run-up, and with the eyes of the entire stadium on her, flew over the bar to casually set a new world and Olympic record, already grinning on the way down. Spectacular. She cleared it by the best part of a foot, too - my bet is she'll be the first woman over five metres by the end of next season.
Rachel Quarrell at the 2004 Olympics.