There is something metaphysical about sport. It produces brutally visceral experiences, but when the last bead of sweat drips off an athlete’s glistening frame, it can also remind us of its transcendental character.
It has this great capacity to hold a mirror to life and everything within it, accentuating our innermost sensitivities. Sport can draw out the essential human lurking within us far more effectively than most other modern activity, a reminder that we could all do better.
Mutaz Essa Barshim of Qatar and Gianmarco Tamberi of Italy showed us again in Tokyo, that sport can lift us higher.
The two did so, not merely by their jumping, which they did very successfully clearing the bar at 2.37m, but by merely standing together. In their willingness and desire to share rather than own the Gold medal, Barshim and Tamberi gave the metal added lustre.
As sporting gestures go, this wasn’t the first. And thankfully, we can be almost certain that it will not be the last. Athletes leave us picking our jaws off the floor with their expressions of excellence, constantly stretching our ideas of human possibility. But it is when they leave us grasping at our hearts that they leave impressions to come to stay home with us. Very often, longer than any Olympic or World Record.
Germany's Luz Long famously advised Jesse Owens to recalibrate his run up after the American fouled on his first two jumps. The latter would go on to win Gold in 1936, at the expense of Long, who took Silver. Pete Goss went even further. The English sailor was leading the round-the-world Vendee 45 days into the race, when he picked up a mayday alert from Frenchman Raphael Dinelli. Goss sailed into the storm, located his distressed competitor and rescued him at the expense of his race. Examples abound, of life trumping sport, despite a life spent perfecting sport.
Barshim and Tamberi are among the best athletes in the High Jump. They are also friends. Tamberi was kept out of Rio 2016 by an injury to his left ankle. Barshim won Silver.
On Sunday, both men failed to clear the bar at 2.39m and officials drew them together to prepare for a jump-off to decide the winner. Barshim, hands on his hips, hat on his head, coolers covering his eyes betrayed no emotion. Tamberi was looking considerably more hassled as the official started to introduce the procedures for the jump off. Barshim broke in without notice. “Can we have two golds,” he asked. “Possible,” muttered the official.
It was all Barshim needed to hear. He looked over to his rival, who nodded his approval. The two men set off into a frenzy of celebration, orchestrated mainly by the elated Italian.
Tamberi jumped into the arms of a smiling Barshim. As they embraced each other, fans around the world soaked the love and made it their own, applauding the two men for their sportive decision to share honours rather than enter a face off to determine a single winner.
“This is beyond sport,” declared Barshim. “This is the message we deliver to the young generation. I look at him, he looks at me, and we know it. We just look at each other and we know, that is it, it is done. There is no need,” Barshim added.
This was a second chance for Tamberi, a sort of a redemption after missing out on Rio with a broken ankle. He has kept the cast with him to spur him on, as he worked his way back from the despair of watching the games on television.
“After my injuries, I just wanted to come back, but now I have this gold, it’s incredible. I dreamed of this so many times,” said an elated Tamberi.
“I was told in 2016 just before Rio there was a risk I wouldn’t be able to compete anymore. It’s been a long journey.”
Their act reminded, and perhaps it needed reminding, fans around the world that it was perfectly all right to have more than a single winner. In fact, their act reminds us that winning may not entirely define sport.
Among those who understand this better than most are PV Sindhu and Tai Tzu Ying. The former endured lost finals and semi-finals in her two appearances at the Olympics. Of course, she has the medals to show for those scars. The Taipei shuttler hasn’t been as fortunate. In her third Olympics, Tai Tzu finally put her ghosts to rest by reaching the final. But she lost to Chen Yufei, and Silver wasn’t enough to console the racket artist in her.
Sindhu knows the feeling, having suffered in an endless list of finals. The Indian may have lost to Tai Tzu in the semi-finals, but that did not prevent her from offering solace and support to her opponent. “Sindhu ran over to hold me, held my face and told me, 'I know you are uncomfortable and you have been very good. Okay, but today is not your day.’ Then she held me in her arms and said, she knows all about it. That kind of sincere encouragement made me cry directly," said Tai Tzu on her Instagram page.
The medals look nice, but they also hang like a Damocles sword over many who dedicate a lifetime preparing for this pinnacle of sporting aspirations. Only a handful win medals in the end. Several others suffer from the strain of competition or are simply outmatched by an even better opponent.
At times the burden of a nation’s hopes weighs too heavy, even for the broad shoulders of chiselled athletes. We have seen how Naomi Osaka and Simone Biles have suffered very different consequences in Tokyo. The former lit the lamp and lost in the third round of the singles event in tennis.
"I definitely feel like there was a lot of pressure, this time around," confessed Naomi. "I think it's maybe because I haven't played in an Olympics before and for the first one to be here was a bit much.”
Biles, a decorated Olympian and an all-out favourite in Gymnastics slipped into a dark corner. She made the brave decision to request her team to excuse her. She would go on to withdraw from most of her events, needing to tend to her mental health.
On the outside though, there seems to be a morbid clamour for medals and results. If you ask the colours of Tokyo 2020 – Mirabai Chanu, PV Sindhu, and Lovlina Borgohain might present very different shades than those offered by our shooters and archers. Justifiably so.
The problem lay in spectators and fans seeking to borrow those shades to pass judgment, some of it rather harsh, at the expense of failing to appreciate the beauty of an Olympian's journey.
Several athletes, including our own, overcome tremendous odds to qualify for the quadrennial event, often breaking new ground for themselves and their countries. Perhaps, we have no right to tarnish their dreams by invading them with our expectations and prejudices.
Sport at its best is competitive and exclusive. But when it turns the page to a realm beyond the best, it can be one of the most inclusive and compassionate pursuits ever known to humankind.
(Anand Datla is a sports writer and a social worker with over two decades of experience in narrating tales of valour and vain efforts from around the world. He has attended and reported from international sporting events in badminton, cricket, golf, and tennis.)
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