As
you may know I am particularly keen on my sport and have been dipping
in and out of the World Athletics Championships in Beijing over the
past few weeks. Pleasing as it was to see the English team doing well it
was great to see David Rudisha back to his best. Top of the tree as
ever was Usain Bolt who having narrowly beaten arch rival Justin
Gatlin to retain his 100 metres title then destroyed him and the rest
of the field in the 200 metres final. It may take him longer to tie
his laces than it does to complete the race but there is always a
sense of expectation whenever he takes to the track. I still get the
feeling that he has more left in the tank, maybe he is saving it for
Rio but I would hate to think he is holding back because if you're
going to break records then there is no time like now because there
are no guarantees of form or fitness in the future.
With
the athletics still fresh in my mind I was in the locker room of my
local sports club on Friday having participated in the regular squash night
session. A couple of my mates and I were discussing recent events
when I became distracted by an individual who had just entered the
changing rooms. Usually at around 08:30 the changing room is packed
full of sweaty squash players and members of the Taekwondo club. From
what I have seen of their training sessions the rough and tumble for
space in the changing rooms is the closest they get to justifying it
as a contact sport.
This
may have been a weekend that the Taekwondo boys went away since we
pretty much had the room to ourselves and the guy who had just walked
in. I was wondering what sport he was planning to participate in at
this time of night since he was not carrying any equipment other than
a holdall. Generally I do not pay much attention to others in the
locker room since I find the steamy environment oppressive and it
fogs up my glasses. An issue that is not helped by the heating having
been on for most of the Summer.
From
the shower I watched as this newcomer walked up and down the room,
admiring himself in the wash basin mirrors. I must admit that being a
public sports centre I do tend to keep one eye on my kit while I am
taking a shower, and this guy was behaving oddly. He had left the
room twice and returned by the time I had finished my shower. My
friends and I were once more debating the athletics when he
eventually decided to change into his gym kit. He then disappeared
into one of the toilet cubicles and suitably refreshed, emerged,
stripped off, jumped in the shower and got back into his civvies. I
was bidding my farewell to my friends as he started to dress and
thought no more about it until I was on my way home. Was this some
sort of prank or was it the shortest workout in history? Maybe the
guy strained himself in every sense of the word. Perhaps it was some
new sport that I have never heard of. There seem to have been quite a
few weird attempts over recent years to create unusual sports - chess
boxing, free running, etc. One university even tried introducing a
form of squash played in total darkness, with lines marked in
luminous paint.
I
have been on the premises when a couple of lorry drivers were caught
by the staff trying to have a free shower at the centre's expense,
that I can understand, what happened on Friday is beyond my
comprehension.
Thinking
about the shortest workout ever reminded me of a time when I worked
in a small branch sales office with a disproportionate number of sports
enthusiasts. There were only 32 of us, 23 of whom were male and with
ages ranging from mid-20s to mid-50s, yet we managed to put out a
competitive rugby 15 against the rest of the company. The 23 was
reduced to 22 on account of one individual (who would have been a
shoe-in had he been able to get a boot over his plaster cast or his crutch). We were
pretty well covered in most areas with the exception of height so we
were quite relieved when one of the managers who happened to be 6'
3'” and had only recently given up the game agreed to play in the
second row. We were a complete scratch team, who had never played
together, though many of us played or had played for different local club
sides. This manager, who shall remain nameless, looked very good in
the changing rooms, clean but well used boots, his own scrum cap, ran
on the spot nicely in the warmup and gave a rousing braveheart
rant during the huddle (more Gielgudian eloquence than Olivieresque
abrasion).
Some
were impressed by his keenness in rehearsing his 'hakka' in the
dressing room, personally I thought he was going through the dance
steps for 'Brotherhood of Man's Eurovision hit, 'Save your kisses for
me'. In hindsight a hakka was a bit overambitious given that we had
never played together as a team before let alone practiced
synchronised grunting and gurning.
The
'rest of the company' won the toss and chose to kick off at which
point our game plan fell apart, as did the aforementioned manager. A
lofted drop kick drifted out towards the touch line and 'our secret
weapon' collapsed on the floor like a house of cards before the ball
had even bounced. The game was halted, his leg inspected and 2 of our
cheerleaders were summoned to support him as he hobbled from the
pitch. I believe there was ice available for his torn calf muscle
though our 'sponge man' being the sympathetic soul that he was handed
him a cold sponge and chose to save the ice for the Gin and Tonics.
In
retrospect we were a fairly unusual bunch since we were the only
branch to ever put out a team consisting entirely of staff members.
We managed to field a passable football 11, a strong cricket team and
2 squash teams, one of which contained 4 county level players.
It
is a sad reflection of how attitudes towards work and leisure have
changed that the company that I now work for was recently challenged
by one of our customers to a 'friendly' game of cricket yet was
unable to mass more than 6 players willing to represent the company
from a national workforce of over 2500.
If
I have learned anything in my years of playing sport it is to expect
the unexpected so last Friday was nothing really out of the normal.
