Thank you, Abhinav. That feeling of being a BPL (below poverty line) country in the Olympics medal tally is gone now.
I’m gratified that way back in 2000, when I was on the executive committee of the National Sports Development Fund, I played a small role in passing a lad’s application for coaching abroad. I didn’t know whose application it was. But I strongly recommended the application. It was Abhinav’s.
But it’s the encouragement given by his parents since childhood and his rigorous practice all through that got him the laurels. Later, I noticed his style and attitude and, in a column, predicted he was a sure shot at the Olympics.
Abhinav’s sterling quality is his poise. I would say that along with his single-minded pursuit and tenacity, the ability to retain his cool at the trigger is what makes the difference between winning and losing.
When the Tricolour fluttered over the Chinese flag and Jana Gana Mana rent the air, Abhinav was plain cool on the victory stand, though I know that deep in his heart there was a huge swell of happiness. It’s that poise, steeled by hard work, that will see you through the fight when you are alone in the arena.
But this is easier said than done. I can’t describe my feelings when I missed the bronze by one-hundredth of a second at the 1984 Los Angeles Olympics.
I still feel I would have snatched the gold if I had kept my cool, rather than my concentration.
All the sporting experience from my 12th year to 20th year seemed shallow at the qualifying round ahead of the Olympic race in 1984. There were three qualifying races.
At the first round, a few persons objected to my running 400 metre hurdles. So that round was gone.
When it was resolved, I ran the second race and broke the Asian record, and in the third race, I qualified at 55.7 seconds.
The next was at the Olympic village -- the pre-Olympic qualifying race; I beat the American champion Judi Brown.
But in the Olympic heats, I came second, just behind Judi. Then again I beat Judi to come first at the Olympic semi-finals. But Nambiar Sir, my coach, found out that I’d clocked only 6.8 seconds during the first lap of 45 metres as against my normal 6.3 seconds. This made him comment: “If you keep your cool and retain the concentration, you will get the medal.”
And I strived to retain my concentration for the next one-and-a-half days until the final. But Debbie Flintoff (of Australia) on the seventh track made a false start and there was a recall. At this point, I lost my concentration. I loosened my spike lace to gather myself. I usually go in for a gulp of water, whiling away another five minutes to come back. But soon the umpire got ready for the start as the other athletes had fallen in. I knew I didn’t have the luxury of a gulp for concentration.
Soon the gunshot. The first three hurdles were slow. I regained some ground at the fourth, advanced to the sixth position at the fifth hurdle, to the fifth position at the sixth hurdle... on to the 9th hurdle, with one rival, the Moroccan (Nawal El Moutawakel, who won the gold), ahead of me. But soon Judi Brown raced from behind to land on the finishing line while I lagged behind one-hundredth of a second. (Brown won the silver).
At first, they announced I was the third but after a 30-minute ordeal of expectation, the result came, dumping me to the fourth.
But those years whiz past as a memorable learning curve. At least now there won’t be any more sniggers when I approach a philanthropist for funds (for the Usha School of Athletics) because Abhinav has brought home the laurels.
But the problem with all of us is our euphoria does not last long. We forget our athletes soon after their moment of glory and then what follows is a spell of drudgery and want. Hopefully, this will change, now that we have struck gold.
AS TOLD TO JOHN MARY |
