The seventh cavalry arrived on time, as the usual medal buzz was beginning when we saw that we only had a solitary bronze medal in our display case. Wednesday afternoon was somewhere between bad and disastrous, and the defeat of Nadal and Alcaraz was very painful because of its significance.
I am glad that it was two race walkers, María Pérez and Álvaro Martín, who broke the bad streak. My sympathies towards this specialty arose quite some time ago, when race walking was very little appreciated, not to say ridiculed. That gait, that strange hip movement, especially for men, made people question their masculinity, what does one thing have to do with the other. Those were times of many macho men on the loose. Thanks to being a factory of winners in not very fruitful times, starting with the legendary Jordi Llopart, the stigma gradually disappeared and this demanding modality until exhaustion is fully integrated into the championships and no one is surprised to see people practicing it in the street. You can even run into Mariano Rajoy.
There we were, celebrating the end of the drought, when the arrival to bronze (for now) of the Prophet. Enmanuel Reyes Pla, a Spanish boxer of Cuban origin. His story is a story of fabric. He left Cuba for lack of opportunities, passed through Russia, was in a refugee camp in Austria, and was arrested in Germany before finally arriving in Spain. I like his self-confidence as a friendly ghost, like Muhammad Ali. “I haven’t seen anyone who can beat me” or “I’m going to rip heads off in the ring” are stellar phrases that Ali surely said. Even in his conversion to Islam they are similar.
I’ve been spending some time at the golf course to watch Jon Rahm, but the length of the course makes it impossible to stay for more than a couple of holes in a row at the risk of missing something. Just long enough to see him hit the ball into the water on a par three when he was having a good comeback. But there he is, four shots behind the lead and with three days to play. I’ve watched hundreds of hours of golf, but I’m not an expert, so I’d need someone in the know to confirm or refute a feeling I have. Since he left for the Saudi circuit, Rahm has lost a bit of his semi-mythological aura. I’ll leave it there.
The day continued with Alcaraz, who has had a medal-winning face since he arrived in Paris. On the first day after Nadal, he came out to remind us that no one should feel orphaned by Rafa, because he is here to fill that emotional hole and continue his task of making us enjoy winning Grand Slams and Olympic medals, leaving his soul in each match. By the way, Nadal does not like super tiebreaksbut as a spectator it is quite an emotional experience. How you go from being one point in heaven to another in hell, tests the most even nerves. In a super Of those very distressing ones, Bucsa and Sorribes, a great doubles pair, have gotten their heads into the semis. Although their shadow is very long, not everything is Nadalcaraz in Spanish Olympic tennis.
Rahm or Alcaraz are names with a lot of media and popular weight, as is Carolina Marín. She plays in the round of 16 of badminton and reached the third set. It is 21-21 and they stand at 17-16 for Carolina. It is a spectacle to see how Carolina gives herself a lecture at each point. 20-17. The first set arrives. match ball after a hawk-eye review that gives him the point by a few millimetres. The net gets in the way. But let’s see, there is no one who wins with any clarity. Well no. 20-18. The comeback is finally confirmed. He screams a few times. He is in the quarter-finals.
I get a teletype (I’ve always liked this phrase) informing me that, while I’ve had a good/bad time with the tennis players, Pau Echaniz has taken another bronze in the K-1 final. Hey, that was a great match. super thursday.
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