The Fastest Man Alive

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The Fastest Man Alive Page 8

by Usain Bolt


  I went over to the clock for the now regulation shot of me beside the world record time and heard that Tyson had run 9.71, which was only two hundredths off my old world best. But, as I said, no matter how well he ran I was confident I would always go better.

  In training I could never post a time like that. Against my teammates at the Racers Track Club my fastest would be around 10.7, but there is a different mindset when it comes to competition.

  Tyson withdrew from the 200 meters, apparently with a groin injury, which was a shame. There were claims in the media that he was avoiding me. I don’t know the truth of it, but he wouldn’t have beaten me anyway.

  I won my heat, the quarter-final and the semi, while Wallace was first home in the other semi in a pretty good time. I wasn’t thinking about losing, just whether I could set another world record. The TV interviewers were telling me it could be done, but I imagined it was going to be tight, coming down to a couple of hundredths at the most.

  My game plan was to go out hard, keep my form around the corner and give it everything down the straight. My reaction time was the best of all the finalists, which was a rarity, and as I got going and came off the bend the bright numbers on the clock were showing something like 14 seconds. I’d never seen that before at this stage of the race and wondered if the timer was working properly. Usually it would be showing 15 or moving on to 16. I kept driving on and was going to lean forward at the tape but decided it wasn’t necessary. I was going to break the record, it was only a question of by how much. The time showed as 19.2 but was rounded down to 19.19. As with the 100 meters, I’d beaten my previous mark by 11 hundredths, which was a strange coincidence.

  I lay flat on the ground and needed the help of the games mascot, Berlino the Bear, to get me up. This was one clever bear and he stopped me to do the “To the World” sign with him. The photographers missed it and we had to go through the routine again for them before Berlino ran 50 meters down the track with me. Had there been a world bears race I’m sure he would have won. Berlino versus the photographer would have been an interesting contest.

  I was pleased Wallace got a bronze medal for the second successive World Championships. He had lost bronze at the Olympics when he was disqualified for stepping out of his lane. It was some reward for him after a season troubled by injuries.

  Two gold medals down, one to go. I’d like to say I was up for the 4x100m relay and another world record, but I wasn’t. I was shattered, far more than in Beijing.

  If my third leg in China was ordinary, this was worse. There was no life in me. Somehow I got the baton around to Asafa, but did nothing to help the team. I just carried the thing around and handed it on. We were more than two tenths down on Beijing but well clear of Trinidad and Tobago, who were second. If the 4x100 meters was run at the start of the games we would obliterate the record, but that would affect my 200m performance, so you cannot have everything.

  Mike Powell, the holder of the world long jump record, which has stood at 8.95 meters since 1991, was interviewed while we were in Berlin. He thought I could be the first to leap nine meters if I took up the event. “I can show Usain how to jump nine meters,” he said. “For a small fee! With his height he is the type who would scare me. We are dealing with a freak of nature athlete. He is off the charts. He is destroying other athletes, making them look like kids.”

  Those words made me think, and I’ve told Glen Mills I want to try long jump before retiring, but it’s not in my immediate plans. I’ve had a go at Racers Club on a training night and done two or three during the warm-up at track meets, registering about 6.90 with a half run-up.

  I don’t know how much specialized coaching would be needed. There is a certain amount of technique required with the way you distribute your weight and get your feet in the right position. And how fast should I approach the pit? If I went flat out it would be hard to hit the board at the right point, so I would have to go at about 75 percent, which would lose me some of my advantage. That’s for the future, and I’m sure Coach will have me doing 400s before getting to long jump.

  Missing the world record in the relays didn’t take the edge off the championships for me. I’d done what I set out to do and was ready to celebrate. It didn’t turn out the way I planned, though, because I had to DJ for the whole night. I fancy myself as a part-time DJ and asked the guy on stage at this club in Berlin to move over. He was playing a load of rubbish and we needed to get the place going. When I’d done about an hour and was ready to let him have his decks back, he’d disappeared. Not only had he left the stage, he’d left the club, and there was no one else except me to do the job. I was up there for five hours and sweated buckets. I almost ran out of songs and was playing all kinds of crap. I couldn’t go on any longer and announced over the microphone, “People, it’s time to go home” – and we did.

  One of my rewards for my efforts in Germany was a piece of the Berlin Wall. I assumed I’d be able to take it straight home, but it turned out to be 12 feet high and weighed about two tons, with a big picture of me painted on the side. At least I think it was me, because as I stood there accepting this historic piece of concrete from the Mayor of Berlin I couldn’t help looking at it and thinking, “That doesn’t

  look anything like me.” The clue was that the figure was black and in a Jamaican running vest, but apart from that it could have been anyone.

  I said all the right things about how being given something of such significance was a great honor, but I didn’t know what I was going to do with it. They shipped it back to Jamaica and I thought of putting it out at the front of my new house, but I couldn’t get over the fact that the picture was dreadful, so I scrapped the idea. It is now sitting in an army camp. I’d scrape the painting off, but I’ve been told that would be disrespectful.

  A sponsor also gave me a 400m running track. It was a proper eight-lane blue track, worth about US$350,000 and something we really needed at the university where we train. It was transported over in huge containers and will be put to very good use.

  The reaction to my performances in Berlin was nothing like as crazy as after the Olympics. I got a fantastic reception at my next meeting in Zurich and was mobbed at the train station, but it was a lot less crazy. It was never going to be the same, even having set two new world records.

  Asafa almost got me in the 100 meters in Zurich, where the starter is one of the faster ones. When the gun went I was still in the blocks and caught him 30 meters from home. It was a close one.

  Asafa and I understand each other. We are competitors, and he’s a good athlete and a former world record holder who I looked up to when I was coming through. He’s been very consistent and has the record of most sub tens in track and field. I won’t ever match that, because I run 100 and 200 meters whereas he only does 100. But I’ve worn him down now. This is my time.

  I finished the year off in Brussels with a 200 meters, beating Wallace into second place. It had been a hard season and a very rewarding one. I didn’t want another big fuss when I returned to Jamaica, and booked my ticket at the last minute without telling anyone, so there were no motorcades waiting. I couldn’t have done that again, and probably neither could the police – once was enough.

  I retained the athlete of the year title in Monaco and told the audience how I’d refocused after the car crash and put in a lot of hard work. The president of the IAAF, Lamine Diack, said I’d raised my performances to “an unimaginable level”, adding, “We need stars. Usain Bolt is one of the best known people on the planet and brings a lot of prestige to our sport.”

  In the winter I moved into my new house, losing my world championship medals in the process. I was sure Mr. Peart had them, and he thinks they were with me, but they haven’t reappeared although we’ve looked everywhere we can think of. Hopefully they will turn up one day.

  I nearly lost my Olympic medals as well when we were in New York. They were in a bag which I left in one of the guest rooms, then forgot where I’d put it. We searc
hed all over my room and round the hotel for hours before finding them.

  While I was pleased to get them back, I’ve won hundreds since I was at school. It’s special when you win your first one, but after a while the novelty wears off. It’s not the piece of metal that matters, it’s the achievement itself. I don’t need to see the medals to know I won, and I don’t have to show them to anyone to prove it. Everybody knows.

  Usain was an active child from the moment he was born, more than any other child I’ve ever seen. I remember his father, my younger brother Gideon, coming to see me all worried saying, “Miss Lilly, there’s something wrong with VJ, he’s not normal. He keeps flipping over and jumping, and when he goes into the kitchen to fetch something for his mum he never walks, he always runs.”

  I told Gideon there was nothing wrong with the boy. He wouldn’t listen to me, he was sure it wasn’t normal behavior. The doctor finally convinced him Usain was just an energetic child and there was nothing to be bothered about.

  Usain would come to my house after school, and I’d sit on the veranda watching him coming towards me with that walk of his, and say to myself, “Wow, that boy is dun cyah,” which is patois for “don’t care”. Nothing worried him. He was going to be alright in the world.

  Usain would give me a big hug and say, “Aunty Lilly, you nuh cook yet?” and I’d have to get him his pork to eat before he went home for another meal. His mother wouldn’t cook pork because of her religion, she is Seventh Day Adventist, but he knew he’d get it at my house. He loved pork with dumplings and hated fish. He’d never eat it.

  Having a farm and a shop next door to the house, I’ve always been the one who feeds the big family gatherings. I don’t mind, that’s how it works in Jamaica, and it’s lovely to have the family aroun’. We’ve been thinking about a full-scale reunion, but it would be hard to organize and finding a date would be almost impossible. If we could do it, it would be great.

  On Saturdays Usain came over with his dad, and Gideon would run the shop for me while I went off to the market to sell the yam I harvested from the farm . Before I went Usain would ask if I could “make up” and give him some money, so he could buy biscuits and sweets from the shop . Even now when he’s back from Kingston he will come and say, “Aunty Lilly, can I have two sweeties, just two?”

  At Christmas, after the World Championships, Usain was at my house eating his meal as usual in the kitchen. We don’t tell anyone when he’s here, yet somehow the word gets out and the kids come around to see him. I don’t know how he deals with his life now. It must be strange getting so much attention for a boy who grew up in the quiet of the country. It hasn’t changed him, not at all. He’s the same VJ from childhood, loving and giving, who says “good morning” or “good evening” to everyone.

  I have lots of his cuttings from the newspapers, some in scrapbooks and some in frames on my wall. One of his favorite pictures on the wall is of him showing his muscles at a training session before Beijing. He always says, “Look at those muscles.”

  We are an open house. I get the media coming around and I’ve come to enjoy doing the interviews. Being a minor celebrity is good for business too. During the Olympics two American tourists turned up and watched the 100 meters in the house with us. They thought it was great to be able to watch Usain win the gold while sitting with his aunty.

  I had total confidence in him at the start of that race. I wasn’t nervous, but I wanted to scream for ever when he won I ran outside waving my Jamaican flags, and everyone for miles around came out. We are a quiet community, but it wasn’t that night. I started a motorcade from my house and we blocked roads for miles.

  I’ve only seen Usain’s races on television, but I hope to be able to see him compete at the London Olympics in 2012. Perhaps we could get all the family over and have our big reunion there.

  IF THERE WERE GOLD MEDALS FOR PARTYING I’d have won every year from 2003, when I moved to Kingston at the age of 17, until I was 20. On a good night out when the vibes were right I would have a couple of bottles of Guinness and still go off to training the next day.

  For a country boy the attractions of the big city were irresistible. Dad had kept me on a very tight rein, hardly ever letting me go out, and on the rare occasions he did, he slapped down such an early curfew that I was supposed to be home long before the fun started. When I didn’t stick to the rules I would be punished for it. In Kingston I could do whatever I wanted – freedom!

  I maintain that the reason my athletics career stalled around those same years was down to injury, not my lifestyle, but I probably did go too far and gave the critics a convenient stick to beat me with.

  I have no regrets – it made me who I am. I have to relax and enjoy life to get the best out of myself. If I did everything by the book I’d be a very dull boy and I’m sure it would have a negative effect on my running.

  Guinness is an Irish drink but it is also big in Jamaica. Rumor has it that when Bono from the band U2 came over and tried it, he said it was the best Guinness he’d ever had. It supposedly does you good because of the nutrients, so I had plenty, to be sure of getting as much goodness as possible.

  There is a well-known song in Jamaica called “Red Bull and Guinness”, recorded by Delly Ranx and Chino, as well as various other artists, which explains the benefits of the two drinks together. Guinness sales went mental when that came out – it was a marketing man’s dream. The lyrics are quite explicit, but you would have to know your patois to really get them.

  My nights out would not start till 1 a.m. and finished at 6 a.m. When you’re a young man, enjoying life, you don’t worry about it. As I said, I’m a blessed child who was given an amazing talent.

  I’m not a trendsetter but I like to look sharp when I go out, usually in black and wearing a nice fly shirt with the long sleeves rolled up. I don’t really have a style – I dress how I feel. I enjoy meeting nice women and dancing, but there are nights when I might pop into a club for an hour to see the DJs and go into their booth to pick up a few tips.

  I have some DJ decks at home and have played a few clubs in Miami as well as that rather longer than planned set in Berlin. Being a DJ is not easy for a Jamaican, because we want to make sure it sounds smooth and you can’t just switch from one song to the other. Every song has a certain beat, like 93, 95 or 97, and you have to set the tempos. Hip-hop is really hard to work with, because you are playing with beats of 125 or 126 and it’s all over the place. I admire the guys who do it well – it takes a lot of practice.

  Jamaica is famous for its reggae, and Bob Marley is the King of Reggae. Every kid grows up on him even today, and you still hear Marley mixes in the clubs. But music has developed from what Marley did and gone in different directions. I used to like hip-hop when I was at school and would borrow CDs and cassettes off my classmates. I never had any of my own, as Dad thought they were one of those unnecessary expenses which weren’t essential to life. I couldn’t load tracks on to an iPod because we didn’t have iPods back then.

  Dancehall is my favorite music. It started in the late ‘70s as a form of reggae, but has changed a lot over the years with the use of huge sound systems and digital technology made popular by the likes of Bounty Killer and Beenie Man. It gets criticised for its violent lyrics, which have led to fights between rival gangs and eventually a crackdown by the Government. I don’t listen too much to the words, I like it simply because it is music you can dance to.

  I’M NOT A

  TRENDSETTER

  BUT I LIKE TO

  LOOK SHARP

  WHEN I GO OUT

  The authorities didn’t see it like that, which was why our 9.58 Superparty celebration, which we organized in the December after Berlin, was suddenly closed down by the police. The idea was to raise money for the health centre in Sherwood and to get some top acts along too. Wallace and Asafa came, and the American rapper Ludacris flew in. The vibes were good and we were having a lot of fun, apart from when Wallace started saying I couldn’
t dance. I think I’m really good. The main act of the night was Vybz Kartel, one of my favorite DJs. For the police that was all the information they needed to stop the fun.

  You have to understand the recent history of the Jamaican music scene to know why the police thought it necessary to take such heavy-handed action. Over a period of four years two factions had sprung up called Gaza and Gully. Vybz Kartel was from Gaza, which identified with the town of Portmore where he came from. Another top DJ called Mavado was Gully, which referred to the place he was born, Cassava Piece in St Andrew, where there was a line of shacks along a stretch of gullies. Music fans would take one side or the other and there was a lot of fighting in schools and clubs. You couldn’t like both sides, at least not publicly.

  I never felt it was the artists’ fault, more their followers’, but maybe that’s because I didn’t think too deeply about the lyrics. I was Gaza, although that didn’t mean I didn’t like people who were Gully. Bounty Killer was Gully and we would still talk together.

  The Prime Minister called dancehall “verbal nonsense” and said Gaza and Gully were “one example of the negative influences that destabilise us as a people and destroy our confidence in ourselves”. The Government decided the only answer was to start closing shows down, and shutting my party was the best way to get their new hardline message across.

  With everything going great at the Superparty and Vybz about to come on stage at 4:00 a.m., the police stormed into the marquee and literally pulled the plugs out. They said we were disturbing the neighbors, although we were in the middle of a field. It was just an excuse and I was so annoyed about it. Vybz was the act everyone had come to see, and he couldn’t go on. The police officer was acting all bossy and rough, telling us the show was over, and I was saying to him, “What’s all that about?” He wouldn’t listen. I wanted to get on to the Prime Minister and the head of police right then, and didn’t care about getting them out of bed. Vybz – hardly a man of violence – told me to leave it alone.

 

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