Back then they’d measure your height and bunch you together with boys of a similar height. I was actually very short – which means I was vertically challenged in modern politically-correct parlance – and I was usually bunched with boys 3 years younger than me.
Ah, the good old days of my athletic “career” – a time when my height was inversely proportional to my sprinting prowess. Picture this: a pint-sized me, lined up with kids who believed a growth spurt was a myth. I was the elder statesman of the under-tall, a veritable giant among Lilliputians, with all the competitive edge of a sloth on a lazy Sunday.
You see, in those days, age was like a superpower, except mine was more “Captain Underwhelming” than “Superman.” Despite my seniority, my sprinting record was as short as my stature – third place was my Everest, and let’s just say I wasn’t planting any flags at the summit.
My coach, bless his cotton socks, had hopes as high as my competitors were young. But alas, those whippersnappers had the speed of cheetahs with jetpacks. Our team, a motley crew of silver-phobes and gold-dodgers, looked to me as their beacon of hope, the star who would lead them to... well, bronze, consistently.
And then there was that one teacher, the Nostradamus of sports, who proclaimed with a sneer, “If he’s a gold medalist, then I’m the Pope.” Let’s just say, there were no white smoke signals coming from the Vatican that day. So my primary school career was basically the genesis of my interest in athletics and I decided if I could not excel in running I could excel in watching and cheering athletes.
I took to watching athletics with the gusto of a man recklessly spending an SMME loan on a bevy of Ma-14 at the Tsolamosese shops. At first there was little to cheer at national level as most of our athletes were just happy to get a plane ride to glamorous countries and get back page coverage before they leave. When they came back, because the performances were not so great, there would be a little insert at the most obscure part of the newspaper to announce the capitulation. Back then just getting on that plane was the zenith of local achievements in athletics.
Over the years though it got better and our athletes started winning races even when racing against Americans and Jamaicans which was no mean feat. So now even people that could not win a sack race back then have an opinion on athletic matters. This past weekend I woke up early to watch Bahamas relays which were the qualifiers for the Paris Olympic. One of our athletes didn’t do well and almost cost the whole nation happiness and the daggers were soon out of their sheaths. There was a suggestion that he has too much mileage in his legs and must now call it a day.
Now history has shown that he doesn’t like being told to retire and he promptly told everyone off and even suggested he would not be bothered by mouths emitting fart-sounding noises. People got angrier and demanded he be removed from the team and put on a boat back to mainland.
But we heard rumours that he is a great inspiration to the team and also sort of doubles as a boarding master and tells the younger athletes when to sleep – something that we must treasure. (For comments, feedback and insults email [email protected]) Thulaganyo Jankey is a Rapporteur and training consultant who runs his own training consultancy that provides training in BQA- accredited courses. His other services include registering consultancies with BQA and developing training courses. Contact him on 74447920 or email [email protected]
