World is left gasping as Usain bolts into history books



Usain Bolt, from the parish of Trelawny in the county of Cornwall on the island of Jamaica, last night entered the company of the immortals. In the course of 9.69 seconds, he destroyed a world record, secured an Olympic title and sent waves of disbelief crashing through the sporting universe.

The statistics told a stunning story, since that improbable time removed three-hundredths of a second from his own 100 metres world record. But the magic lay in the manner of victory. For this was sprinting in excelsis, pace at its most rarefied, the most coveted of all Olympic crowns treated as if it were the school sports.

Life in the fast lane: Usain Bolt of Jamaica runs past Richard Thompson of Trinidad and Tobago to win the men's 100m final

He worked at his race for precisely 34 strides, then he spread his arms wide, coasted shamelessly and even slapped his yellow-vested chest as he crossed the line. His opponents, participants in a quite different race, just stared at his back as he carried on coasting around the track curve, posing and prancing and proclaiming his genius.



The fastest field that this planet can assemble had been treated not as competitors but as victims, their only purpose to make the champion seem faster. Their names were featured far below the credits: Richard Thompson of Trinidad, silver medal, 9.89; Walter Dix of the USA, 9.91. And in fifth place, the challenger, the one who might have denied Bolt, the man who had held legitimate hopes of gold.

But Asafa Powell, a fellow Jamaican, close friend and the former holder of Bolt's record, had been crushed along with the rest. And deep down, he knew it. Throughout the preamble to the race, Powell had worn the glum look of a loser.



As he settled on his blocks, his face spoke of somebody who knew what was in store. He was aware that Bolt was operating on a different level, that he is a phenomenon who obeys his own rules. And that this would be his night. For his part, Bolt was plainly untouched by doubt. He had moved through his semi-final with the easeful power of a thoroughbred at the gallops.

Never, surely, has anybody run 9.85 with such conspicuous absence of effort. The other semi-final removed the world champion, Tyson Gay. The American could not find the surging pace that once he took for granted. He walked away with dignity and credit.

He, too, must have known what lay in store. Bolt revealed not a hint of nerves. He greeted the crowd with grins and waves, offered the rest of the field a selection of knowing smiles then, crossing himself and jabbing a finger towards the heavens, he prepared to make history.

Old men with long memories may compare what followed to Muhammad Ali's disdainful dismissal of the ogre named Sonny Liston in their first heavyweight title fight. Certainly Ali was no respector of occasions. The greatest compliment one can pay Bolt is to assert that last evening, he bore comparison with Ali.







Relaxed: Bolt's undone shoelace

Olympic 100m titles are not meant to be seized in such a manner, but this was of a quite different order to anything we have known. In silence broken only by the clatter of a television helicopter, he leapt into a swifter start than usual, and from there on 91,000 people simply shook their heads, unable to credit what was unfolding before them.

And when it was over, he abandoned himself to ecstatic celebration. He plunged into the crowd, to be embraced by Jamaican arms. He broke into a little dance, a gesture which might embarrass him when he shows the movie to his grandchildren.

He remembered what his agent had told him and he waved his shoes into the world's cameras. Somehow, he had managed to cross the line with his laces undone. In truth, he could have dispensed with shoes completely and still come home with time to spare.

Then he wrapped himself in the yellow and black flag of his island. He sped eagerly to the electronic clock which showed: NEW WR - 9.69. He pointed at it several times, as if ownership of that record were in doubt. He clowned and cackled and he capered. Usain Bolt is not a man for understated celebration. At 21, he is unlikely to be concerned by questions of history, but with his victory he has joined some of his sport's finest.

The line of Olympic sprint champions is long and immensely distinguished; from America's Tom Burke in 1896, through fabled figures such as Harold Abrahams (1924), Jesse Owens (1936), Bob Hayes (1964), Carl Lewis (1984 and 1988) and Donovan Bailey, whose Olympic record of 9.84sec was set in Atlanta in 1996. Such names form an aristocracy of speed, and the young man will not seem out of place among their number.

Inevitably, questions will be raised about the authenticity of the performance Modern Olympic sprinting has a tainted history, and Jamaica's ascendancy in both the men's and women's sprints here has been overwhelming. But unless and until anything is proved against him, we should assume the young man's innocence and simply report what we see. And what we saw from Usain Bolt in the Bird's Nest Stadium last night was something akin to perfection.

These Games of Beijing have offered us a whole litany of memories, and there will be more to follow. But nothing will match the performance of the young man from the parish of Trelawny, in the county of Cornwall, on the island which is home to the fastest man on Earth, the fastest man in history, the athlete who made his pitch at immortality, within the space of 9.69 seconds.