It was neither the time nor the place, if there is ever a time or a place where something like what happened to Carolina Marín happens to you and the world doesn’t fall on you. A long time ago I heard the actor Pierce Brosnan, ex Remington Steele, ex 007, say in an interview that life had treated him very well, except for a few spits. Life had already thrown Carolina Marín several times, but this time the fates went too far. She was playing to compete in an Olympic final again eight years later and she was doing it like a charm, winning the first set and dominating the second. She may have already been counting the points she needed (eleven) to close the match and give us a joy. Just then, treacherously and without warning, her right knee cracked and our souls shrank. There was no need to wait for a diagnosis. Nobody knows their body better than an athlete, and Carolina’s screams and cries put us in the worst possible situation. In an instant, the hubbub of a surrendered pavilion has given way to total silence.
When you go to see a sporting competition, it is not part of the plan to attend a tragedy. Carolina lying on the ground was an image that was difficult to see without getting a lump in your throat and tears in your eyes. The wait until what I already knew was inevitable (confirmed injury and retirement) was becoming unbearable, so I went to tidy a closet, as if putting some shirts on its hangers would make time go back. It is called the denial phase. It has not worked.
Until today, Marín had won all the important matches, on the court, in the gym and on the street. She chose a specialty of minimal follow-up like badminton and has put it on the map of our sport. She left her home and her country to go to the east to challenge the best and ended up being acclaimed on the opposite field. She suffered two very serious injuries and returned to compete and win. But all endurance has its limits and I don’t know if she will have the strength left for a third resurrection that requires a ton of effort.
The only thing we can do is to express our sorrow, affection and recognition. However, as much as what happened hurts us, we don’t have to let it go. the oremus asking for a medal or something like that. Each year the Olympic Games bring their share of a few successes and many more failures, they deal out good and bad luck, and athletes fall, get injured, or simply get it right or wrong. I don’t want to get mystical, but that’s sport, which is still a part of life and life, as the late Andrés Montes sang over and over again, can be wonderful. What he forgot to say is that when you least expect it, it spits at you.
I think that what happened with Carolina has caused a great disturbance in the team and the day has gone a bit crazy. We were smiling at the bronze of Cristina Bucsa and Ana Sorribes or the unexpected success of the hockey boys, who beat Belgium, the world champion, in the quarterfinals, while we were turning up our noses at boxing, where almost all the losers argue about the referee’s decisions.
And then there is the matter of Alcaraz and Jon Rahm, two flagships. The tennis final was brutal. I take my hat off to Djokovic, who continues to dominate the most demanding stages and at 37 years of age refuses to hand over the baton of leadership of men’s tennis to his rival today. Both come out strengthened. Nole finally completes his stratospheric list of achievements and Alcaraz confirms for the umpteenth time that we are facing a phenomenon that we will enjoy for many years. Jon, for his part, has collapsed at the peak moment. My friend Antonchu, who knows a lot about golf, tells me that Rahm has lost competitiveness since he went to the LIV, a circuit much less demanding than the European or American ones, where the three medallists play. I’ll leave it there. About Rahm and today.
You can follow Morning Express Sports onFacebook andXor sign up here to receive theDaily newsletter of the Paris Olympic Games.
