Tweet
Tom Fordyce- 16 Aug 08, 07:17 PM
Beijing
You knew from the moment he stood by his blocks, seconds before the start of the most hyped 100m in history, and posed like a man messing about in a club with his mates.
It's the Olympic final. You're supposed to be shaking inside, aware that you're about to go through the 10 seconds that could define the rest of your life.
There are 90,000 people staring down at you from all sides of the stadium, billions more watching around the world on television.
Usain Bolt's performance on Saturday night was unbelievable, in the most flabbergasted, mouths-agape sense of the word.
These races are won by hundredths of a second, by dips on the line, by the width of a vest. They're not won by chasms.
var emp = new bbc.Emp(); emp.setWidth("400"); emp.setHeight("260"); emp.setDomId("bolt_17_08_08"); emp.setPlaylist("http://news.bbc.co.uk/media/emp/7560000/7565500/7565572.xml"); emp.write();When Bolt's world record time flashed up on the in-field scoreboard at the Bird's Nest, people actually started laughing.
It was that astonishing, that implausible.
This was only the ninth competitive 100m Bolt has ever run. He wasn't even sure if he'd be running in this race a fortnight ago, and that was when his coach told him that he would.
To explode down the track and run that time, not even trying for the last 15 metres, holding his arms out wide and virtually talking to the crowd, simply defies belief.
But, from the moment he walked out onto the brightly-lit stadium floor, Bolt looked ready to rip up the rule-book.
When pounding, portentous music was played over the PA system as the athletes peeled off their tracksuits pre-race, Bolt started throwing dancehall shapes even as Asafa Powell looked sick with anxiety.
When the starter called the finalists to their blocks and a total hush fell over the rammed-to-the-rafters stadium, the only noise the clattering helicopter overhead, Bolt appeared to be singing to himself.
As he flashed across the line a few seconds later, the fastest human being who's ever lived, he punched his chest, pulled up his bright yellow vest to show off his sprinter's six-pack and roared with delight as the steepling stands roared back at him.
You can try to put this run into context, but there isn't one.
The closest you can get is Michael Johnson's 19.32secs for the 200m in Atlanta 12 years ago, also done in golden spikes. But that was achieved by a man aged 29, at the peak of his powers, after years and years of running the event.
Bolt is 21. It's the first senior 100m final of his life.
The 100m world record isn't generally broken in Olympic finals. Of the last eight records set, only one came at an Olympics - Donovan Bailey's 9.84secs in 1996.
In Beijing, Bolt had a start that was at best average, with six of his opponents reacting quicker to the gun that he did.
There wasn't even a following wind, unlike in May, when he was blown along by a tailwind of +1.7m/s as he ran 9.72secs in New York.
On Saturday night, the Olympic flag hung limply from its pole.
How fast could he have run with a breeze at his back, pushing hard all the way to the line? 9.66? 9.65?
These are numbers that seemed utterly impossible even a few days ago. Now, for Bolt, they're within reach.
Maybe we shouldn't be surprised. Bolt has been a sprinting phenomenon ever since he went through puberty, shot up to 6ft 5in and started running times that created waves far outside his native Jamaica.
As a lanky 15-year-old from Trelawny, he became the youngest ever gold medallist at the World Juniors, storming to the 200m title and repeating the trick a year later.
Injury delayed his progression a little, as did the depth of 200m talent at senior level and the careful nurturing of his coach Glen Mills, but for most judges it was simply matter of when, not if.
For Bolt's two great adversaries ahead of Saturday's showdown, it was a night to throw away and forget about forever.
Powell, for three years the fastest sprinter in the world, the man who's gone under 9.80 seconds more times than anyone else in history, once again failed to deliver in a major championship final.
Even in his worst nightmares he couldn't have imagined running 9.95secs in the Olympic final, not even finishing on the podium.
For Tyson Gay it was even worse. Despite his claims to be back to his best, he failed to even make it through the semis to witness his rival make history first-hand.
Bolt now stands head and shoulders above every other sprinter, both physically and metaphorically.
Like Michael Phelps, he came into these Olympics as a mere sports star but will leave them as a global icon.
And let's not forget - the event he considers to be his best is still to come
Tom Fordyce is a BBC Sport journalist covering a wide range of events in Beijing. Our FAQs should answer any questions you have.
Comment