The following day … 100m semi finals. Three of them. The favourites
in the other two duly won theirs in impressive style. Especially the
Jamaican.
And Okagbare? Well, she won hers too. But it was sweet
and sour. Sour because it was the slowest victory of the 3 races and her
most sluggish start all season, fuelling a suspicion that the rigors of
glory-hunting the previous day may have sapped vital freshness from the
gazelle’s legs. Sweet because her formidable kick was nonetheless in
full effect and carried her tearing through the pack to the front in
highly impressive style.
So what did she have left for the
all-important final, one of the two show-piece events of the
Championships? Her expression revealed little as she stood patiently
behind her starting blocks. But its slightly grim quality disturbingly
resembled that of a heptathlete in endurance mode deep into the second
day of her heroic quest. Somehow it lacked the vitality of a sprint
queen determined to claim her crown by force or by fire.
The
starter’s pistol cracked. Eight finely sculpted bodies leapt forward,
the Jamaican’s one of the first, as is her custom; Okagbare’s one of the
last, as is also her custom.
But there was nothing customary
about the gazelle still dawdling at the rear end of the pack 70 meters
into the race with the gold well on its way to Kingston in the pocket of
the little rocket several meters ahead, firing relentlessly across the
finishing line.
What left but to look on with an age-old
resignation as the Jamaican and Ivorian celebrated their gold and silver
respectively in front of the applauding crowd, whilst my 6th-placed
compatriot trudged off with bowed head into the bowels of the stadium?
De
ja vu. Of the most unwelcome kind.
Four days later, the 200.
Similar to the 100, Okagbare has cruised through the rounds. But by now
it’s obvious that everyone saves it for the finals. They blast off. This
time, the weary gazelle has more real estate to play with and holds on
for bronze. Perhaps courtesy of Felix, the pre-race favourite who pulled
up with a hamstring ailment.
A divine orchestration for Blessing?
Maybe, who knows?
What I do know is that the outcome didn’t have
to be that way. Like the conclusion of many-an-inquest into an aviation
fatality, the attributable cause is ‘human error’. Not an act of God (or
‘God’s will’, as we often piously mutter).
I cannot speak
authoritatively as to whether Okagbare’s entry for 4 events was at her
own insistence or that of the Federation officials. Either way, the
decision-making could no doubt have been optimized. Her 6th position in
the 100 finals fell far short of what she is capable of; her
performances prior to the World Champs clearly proved that.
So why
yet again another incident of a Nigerian athlete failing to deliver to
his/her full potential on the biggest occasion?
In this case, a
failure of strategy. Competing in the Long Jump compromised her
prospects in the 100. Competing in both Long Jump and 100 compromised
her prospects in the 200. Given the individual events schedule, the
ideal combo should have been either LJ/200 or 100/200. Not LJ/100. And
definitely not all three, a feat that none of her colleagues with
superior facilities at their disposal, dared to attempt.
Those who
cannot learn from history are doomed to repeat it.
I guess for a
country whose only individual medal at the Championships came 26 years
ago through the mighty strivings of Innocent Egbunike, a silver and
bronze wasn’t such a bad result. Even if our much smaller neighbour went
a notch better with two silvers (both courtesy the smiling Ivorian).
Even if our cousins far out in the Caribbean with a population only a
fraction of our 170 million and nowhere near the level of our material
resources continued their recent domination of any accolades vaguely
related to an explosion of speed and power.
You can be sure
federation officials from other countries were hungrily watching
Okagbare’s endeavours with keen interest. Wondering exactly what would
tempt her across the border to compete in a differently-coloured vest
where money is no object and potentials are fully maximized. Plotting
how to approach …
I hope she finds the power to resist where
others have yielded. I hope she chooses the reproach of her ancestral
land rather than the treasures of ‘Egypt’. I hope she realizes her role
as a beacon of hope to the hopeless, a guide to the blind, a drink to
the thirsty, a blessing to the needy.
I hope she overtakes that
rocket one day. In front of the entire world.
It would have been
nice to hear the Nigerian national anthem played in Moscow. Just once.
Even if I wasn’t the one standing on top of the podium.
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