Titans of the sprints!

Jamaica. The emerging sprint titans! In the 2008 Olympic Games in Beijing China, Jamaica has given rise to a new crop of sprint champions. Previous sprint champions have largely been from the United States of America. Not to forget the odd Canadian. (Read Ben Johnson). In this year’s games Jamaica has stamped its dominance in the sprints. So much so that athletes from United States of America have almost been eclipsed. Usain Bolt the Olympic Gold medallist in the 100 meter and 200 meter races cast a very dark shadow on his competitors that we barely noticed them nor remember their names. This he did by not only bagging the gold in both events, but also by breaking the standing world records. He becomes the second man to win gold in both events in the same summer games. The only other man being Carl Lewis of the United States of America. Could the secret of his record breaking dash lie in the chicken nuggets he so loves? Is that a chicken dance he jigs after every deserved win?

Shelly-Ann Fraser and Veronica Campbell-Brown bagged the gold medals in the 100 meter and the 200 meter races respectively. The little known sprinters from this yam growing Caribbean Island of 2.8 million, have the world finally associating Jamaica with not only the Reggae genre of music they are famous for the world over but also with athletic sprints. The Jamaican sprints team are surely setting the bar to another level.

Jamaica first sent a team to the 1948 Olympics in London, their speciality being in the short races since. 60 years down the line, the athletic world ought to bow for the “fastest nation in the world.” As I write this article the Sprinting Jamaicans continue to assert their dominance. In the men’s 4 X 100 meter relay race, the Jamaicans bag the gold medal and with a new world record to boot!

Getting on the wagon!

The sun was a golden yellow peeping out of the horizon. There was promise of a sunny day. The July chill had spilled onto August. Today could be an exception. Not that any of that mattered to Tusk, his head was pounding, his tongue he felt was stuck to the roof of his mouth and his throat ached. The pits of his stomach felt like someone had dropped hot lead on them. He swung his legs out of bed with a groan. What was the use of lying in bed yet he had been awake from four a.m. in the morning? He just could not sleep anymore. If he managed three hours a night he was thankful. He reached for a pack of cigarettes on his bedside table, with overwhelming nausea and blurred vision he knocked down his bedside reading lamp. The resounding crash tore into his brain, amplified by the debilitating effects of overindulging.

Recovering from the jolt of pain, he grabbed the cigarette pack. A single stick remained. Sighing with relief, he scanned the room searching for his pants on the littered floor. Then it hit him, he still had them on. Rummaging through his front pockets, he found it. His prized gold encrusted lighter. Shoving the cigarette with effort into his mouth, he flicked the lighter, the flame flickering because of his trembling hands, he finally had his cigarette lit. He started sucking into it like his life depended on it. After several puffs, the fog in his head started to clear. At least now, he could see through the haze that engulfed his world. On his hand, he became fixated on the lighter. How he prized and how hated it. He prized it because of its value and hated it because it reminded him of what he used be. It was the one thing that he truly and deeply cared for. And not because of its monetary value, he had all through his life shown disregard for anything fiscal. Money to Tusk was just a means, not an end.