Blame It On Rio

The Brazilians are built for fun and frolic. Their DNA is soaked with juicy doses of music, dance, sport and a sunny disposition. Blame it on Rio (the 1984 movie) or where ever but the Brazilian is made in heaven to both play and watch sport like football (I've always known this) and volleyball (I've discovered this earlier today). Rati and I saw this for ourselves this evening at the men's volleyball semi finals at London's Earls Court.

Earls Court in London is old but retains the old world charm to deliver a super ambience for the volleyball.

Brazil shocked and awed. They shocked their semi final opponents Italy with a blistering display of precision volleyball and explosive spiking (smashing). They awed their numerous supporters. They also awed us neutrals in the crowd. These Brazilians play their volleyball like their countrymen do football, with an aggressive flare and a sense of the show man. Their supporters complement them perfectly. The support the Brazilians receive is infectious, good natured, fanatical and fun.

Life's a samba for the Brazilians. They sing and dance their team to the volleyball finals.

The match lasts a full 1.5 hours. There is so much action in high quality volleyball that the match seems to last a half hour. Time flies when you are having fun. Never a dull moment is there through the 90 minutes. Even the breaks in play prove to be so absorbing. As soon as play stops the music blares, the Brazilians sing, dance and wave their flags and a good time is had by all except the Italians playing and watching. The Italians do not enjoy anything this evening. They try their best but are no match for the men in yellow. The Brazilian blitzkrieg puts paid to any thoughts of an Italian fight back.

The Italians in blue do have their moments. This lethal spike strikes home despite the two man Brazilian block.

Rati who has never watched the game before is thrilled with the evening. So is everyone at the stadium who is non-Italian.

The Brazilians have awed me this evening alright. I've already begun to find out how I can acquire tickets for the 2016 Olympics in Rio. Don't blame it on Rio!

   

"All Three Maan, All Three! Again!"

It was back to the stupendous Olympic Stadium early this morning, Day 13 of the Games. The semi-finals of the 4 x 400 metres relay was the highlight of this long session extending from 9 am to 4 pm. Waking up at 7.15 am is a new experience for me but I do manage to get to the athletics on time even if only in near zombie condition.

The Olympic flame burns bright in the stadium.

A shining sun signals the arrival of summer in London town. The day is hot and so is the action in the Olympic Stadium. But our Kumari in the high jump qualifications turns cold to bring up the rear with aplomb, standing joint 28th with a measly 1.80 metres jump. 

"Gemme the baton pronto; gemme". The 4 x 400 metres relay in full flow.

I get to admire the remote controlled mini cars which ferry the discuss, hammer and put from where the athletes throw them to the home base. These cute mini vehicles built on the design of the British car, the Mini Cooper, has caught the imagination of the public here. Then there's the technology and precision involved in the manner in which the hurdles are whisked away. 

The dinky remote controlled cars are taking a rest. These objects zip around ferrying the discuss, put and hammer all over the place.

Creating unemployment? A hi-tech transport solution for the hurdles. How about manpower?

Top: A fine example of the Fosbury Flop. The head is earth bound. Bottom: a pole vaulter is suspended in thin air?

I rush back home after the athletics to catch some shut eye (remember the early start to my day!). Rati and I are soon headed back to the Olympic Park to watch the hockey semi final between Great Britian (Team GB as they are lovingly referred to) and Holland, a mouth watering prospect. Crowd support does wonders and the home hockey players have ridden on near fanatical support in the Riverbank Arena to make it this far.

Horror movie? Four orange Dutch defenders in face masks defend a rare Great Britain penalty corner strike. 

The two of us are firm supporters from the beginning of the men in orange, Holland. Thank heavens for this. In the most lop sided semi final result in Olympic hockey since 1936 GB are not able to summon even Dutch courage to battle the Dutch. The British are wiped out. The final score is 9-2 to Holland and this is not a typo! Rati and I are thrilled at the Dutch dazzle and enjoy our evening to the hilt.

The British blow their trumpets. The score is 1-1.

The British stop blowing their trumpets. The score is Holland 9, Great Britain 2!
Notice the drummer on the left (see photograph above) has abandoned his drum and seats himself down resigned to his fate.

Whilst walking back from the hockey we merge with the spectators emerging from out of the main Olympic Stadium. The Jamaicans are over the moon. I ask a group of them about the results of the 200 metres final which was run during our hockey match. "All three maan, all three! Again!" comes the triumphant response. Bolt and his two fellow countrymen have made a clean sweep of the 200 metres medals. When will we have a finalist, let only a medalist, in a sprint Olympic final I wonder and proceed to have a phylosophical discussion with Rati on the genetic disadvantages of us Indians when it comes to running fast, jumping high or throwing far. If only we could run as fast as the new bullet train which takes us from the Olympic Park, East London, in a zippy 6 minutes to King's Cross, Central London.

Day 13 proves decidedly lucky for the Jamaicans but not so for India. We did not not jump high enough in the morning and later in the day run fast enough as Tintu Luka finishes 6th in her 800 metres semi final. No finals for Tintu and it'll be no gold for India this Olympics unless our wrestling men manage to wrestle one on the last day of the Games. Rati and I will be there at the ExCel on Sunday afternoon to cheer our wrestlers. Let us pray and hope.

Meanwhile I satiate my India medal appetite by watching the day's highlights past midnight on BBC and gloat over Magnificent Mery receiving her bronze. The British media refer to Mery Kom as a women's boxing legend. Will the Indian media and public ever take the cue?

Run Tintu, Run

Today was our first look see into the grand Olympic Stadium, the same place the opening ceremony was held. Having passed this stadium several times on the way to the hockey, Rati and I were relieved to finally make our entry into the epicentre of any Olympics - the main stadium. 

It's a stadium with dramatic proportions. The external facade is imposing enough. Our entry into the action area was greeted gleefully by the attendant. "Down to your left Sir, you have lovely seats," he announces. And lovely our seats turn out to be. Lovelier still is the insides of the stadium and the athletics action to follow. 

After Great Britian's current most favourite athlete, Mo Farah, runs a fine race in a 5,000 metres heat to deafening applause it is time for Tintu Luka to run the second heats of the women's 800 metres. Our sprint Queen PT Usha's dutiful pupil, Tintu, has a tough draw. Two world class ladies in her heat who have won world championship gold medals and the like.

A daunting race to run for Tintu in a pressure cooker environment. The stadium is packed to the hilt with 80,000 noisy spectators. Her competitors are some of the best in the world. Easy for an Indian athlete to crumble. Not so for Terrific Tintu. She keeps pace with the front runners from the start.

Terrific Tintu Luka remains undaunted in a cauldron of a stadium. Tintu's in all black and in second place in the middle.

Only the first three in each heat qualify for the semi finals. 200 metres from the finish Tintu falls back into fourth place where she remains up to 10 metres to go. A last gasp effort and she finishes in a blur along with the third placed runner.  The huge display boards in the stadium flash "PHOTO" next to Tintu's name.

300 metres from the finish Tintu's in third place but about to be overhauled by the lady in red. Soon she ends up in a photo finish for the precious third place.

So it's a photo which decides young Ms Luka's fate. Tension mounts. Time to bite our nails? Rati and I settle for holding our breath instead. And then the display changes. Before Tintu Luka's name appears the important figure.....3! She has made it and lives to fight another day. As a result our day takes a sudden turn for the much better and we begin to enjoy the so many interesting sights the Olympic Stadium has to offer.

Terrific Tintu's third place is confirmed on the giant display board while she's seen in a dead heat for third place on the left.

We appreciate the guts and gumption Attar has to become the first woman from Saudi Arabia to become an Olympic athelete. The samosas we eat soon after taste the best I've eaten for hundreds of years. The queue we stand in to get into the London 2012 Megastore cancels the pleasure the samosas have just given us. Such crowds I have not experienced before!

The lady in the white headgear, Attar, running the first ever Olympic race by a Saudi woman.

Hockey Horrors

India has through history beaten Belgium in the hockey world cup and olympics. This afternoon India ensured this piece of history is altered. Our hockey heroes contrived what I thought was impossible by being blanked 3-0 by a belligerent Belgium. We scored only 6 goals in our 5 league matches, lost all of them and earned the distinction of being the only team in the competition not to score even a single point.

Our beloved Aussie Coach, Mr Nobbs, got the physical condition of our players ship shape. Somewhere along the line old Nobby forgot that simply running around more or faster than the others does not a hockey match win. He threw out most of the senior players, brought in a bunch of bacchas who are just past their junior days, so much so that India has the youngest team in the competition.All this is great if Nobby is preaparing the team for Rio and the 2016 Olympics. Someone forgot to tell him it is London and not Rio we needed a team from him! Maybe in Rio.....

Our hockey men have their backs to me and their backs to the wall.

Our chaps in blue keep attacking but the opponents keep scoring the goals!

We keep running around in circles and Nobbs, standing to the left of our flag, fellin' dizzy and clueless.

The hockey is best forgotten except for an earlier match I witnessed wherein the Aussie steam rolled Pakistan 7-0. The animals where there at the Olympic Park to brighten my Olympic day. The police horses in all their majesty. A guide dog, cute and all Labrador. And the Dog Relief Area (see photos below) more than made up for Nobby and his men.

Horses for courses. This horse is on course to do his job in the Olympic Park.

A cute black Labrador I snapped close to the hockey stadium. This one's a professional - a highly trained Guide Dog. 

The dogs at the Olympics are having a field day. This enclosed area, the pink sign on the wooden wall declares it's a "Dog Relief Area", is for the pooches to relieve themselves. Don't miss the toilet paper on the wall. Wonder whether it's meant for a pooch or a person!

Later in the evening we watch our good man Gowda on TV in the discuss final. He throws well, for an Indian that is. By Olympic standards he was good enough to finish only 8th. Relatively speaking he did us proud merely by reaching the finals. Good on you mate.

Ping Pong Pop

Today was the day for table tennis or good ole ping pong. The men's team second semi finals is witnessed in an arena next to the boxing one at London's ExCel. Hong Kong faces off against South Korea. The story of how Hong Kong shocked favourites Japan by the narrowest of 3-2 matches in the quarters is best told by someone else.

A lot is justifiably expected from the HK paddlers but this is not to be. South Korea, the second seeds, are in unrelenting mood. They register a 3-0 win over HK. The scoreline is rather deceptive as two of the three matches go down to the wire. On another day HK could easily have been 2-1 up with plenty to play for in the last two matches. But today there was no pop in either Hong Kong or ping pong.

Is he going to hit the ball or swallow it?

Who's coaching whom? A huddle of players and coaches in a tense situation.

I rush back home as soon as the table tennis finishes to catch Vijendra Singh's boxing bout on TV at 10 pm. Vijendra's meeting someone from Uzbekistan whom he convincingly beat in the Asian Games in 2010. So this should be a doddle right? Wrong!

Mr Singh is distinctly unlucky to find himself two points adrift of the Uzbek at the end of the second round. The English TV commentators can't believe their eyes. Neither can Rati and I. "The judges  have pressed the wrong pads'" the English expert commentator concludes. Vijendra is hard done by and can't make up the deficit in the last round. There's something fishy in the way the judges score against Vijendra in the second round and the way Vijendra himself holds back from raining punches on the Uzbek in the last 45 seconds of the fight. Perhaps Mr Singh was just plain pooped of all energy. Whatever it is he succumbs just one step away from his second Olympic medal and immortality in Indian sport.

Mery Kom to the rescue. Eight hours earlier Magnificent Mery boxes the most important bout of her life to reach the semi finals and guarantee herself a medal. She's a women's boxing legend across the sport and her's is a popular and facile victory. Her twin sons turned five yesterday. Last evening's victory was her birthday gift to them. Today's a gift to her state, Manipur, and her Country.

Before Mery boxes Vikas Gowda throws the discuss far enough to reach the final. Well done to the man with a large physique and an even larger heart. Good luck Mery in the semis and Vikas in the finals.

Magnificent Mery Makes Merry

Today at the Olympics for India undoubtedly belongs to the mother of two, 5 times world champion, the pocket dynamo, Mery Kom. Another magnificent stadium, ExCel, and another fine performance from an Indian lady makes for another day of sumptuous Olympics fare. 

Women's boxing is happening for the first time ever in the Olympics. Mery's bout against the accomplished Pole, also a world champion of the past and the current world no 5, was the third fight on the women's time table. It was the first competitive match in Olympics history though. Once again, after the Saina Nehwal quarter final, a sprinkling of Indians in the stadium created a noise disproportionate to their numbers. We have a ring side seat, ideal for jumping around, raising our flags and screaming "India, India" and "Mery Kom, Mery Kom". Enough to get the TV camera on us!



The rocky type music is on full blast as Mery Kom enters the arena.



Magnificent Mery walks in to the arena in her trade mark understated manner, bows her head in prayer and is ready to box. None of the jumping around on toes, punching the air in anticipation of the real thing and "if looks could kill" looks. Mery Kom prepares to box as though she was setting off from home for a pilgrimage. A simple lady from a humble background in an aggressive sport!

The fight itself is packed with action and incident. Once both boxers wrestle each other to the ground. On another occasion Mery's head guard comes loose and the boxing stops to have that mended. Mery also losses balance twice and is on the floor. The Indian moves into the ascendency after an even first round and begins the last one with a bulging 5 point lead.

Mery Kom, in blue, takes the fight to the Pole right from the outset.

Soon she's making headway with clever jabs, hooks and upper cuts.

The result of the bout is announced amidst a cacophony of noise in the stadium. The final score is 19-14 in favour of the blue corner. Mery Kom has delivered against a tricky opponent. One more victory and she'll be guaranteed an Olympic medal. 

The winner is declared. Mery Kom exults. The vanquished Pole hangs her head in dejection.

The lady in blue, Mery Kom, wins the day and the evidence is on the scoreboard.

These Games have lived up to the friendly games tag, at least for me. I again make friends. This time it is Brendon and Julie. We exchange telephone numbers and agree to meet for a drink the next evening at the same venue (they are again coming for the boxing and I'll be back at ExCel for the men's team table tennis semi finals). Julie, the Irish lady, I discover is a big India fan and takes photographs with my flag. She's immediately mentions the 1970s Hindi movie of the same name, a movie in which the keralite, Lakshmi, acts in and as Julie.

Bull In, and Outside, A China Shop

To Wimbledon, to Wimbledon, to the Centre Court, to watch two finals, or Gold Medal matches as these are called at the Olympics. Rati and I go to see two but we get to watch four Centre Court matches instead. More of the extra two later.

Serena Williams comes from a different planet. On this planet they play better tennis than any humans have ever done. The power and panache displayed by Serena this afternoon was breath stopping stuff. Poor Sherapova could do nothing to stop the bull in, and outside, a China shop Williams.

Sharapova reaches for the skies but falls flat in the final.

The match was a NC (a boxing abbreviation for No Contest) but watching Serena whack the ball perhaps harder than any women has ever done was worth our while. In the midst of this match Rati gives me stunning news. Saina Nehwal has won a bronze. The first Indian badminton player to stand on the victory podium in an Olympics. Sabash Saina. You make us proud.

The ladies singles medal ceremony is best remembered for the US flag sailing away from the flag pole in the midst of the US anthem! Wimbledon just isn't used to flags and hoisting them I guess.

Contrasting moods at the medals ceremony. Serena is beaming. Sharapova is sulking. A reflection of their respective performances!

In stark contrast to the ladies final, the men's doubles final between the Bryan brothers from the US and the French duo of Tsonga and Llodra produced keen and closely fought fare. Tsonga is a character and stands out of the foursome if nothing but for his antics on court. The French give way at the end to lose a close match to the US favourites but not before we see some super fast serving, ferocious hitting and precision volleys.

"Appa, WAKE UP. I've just got an email from the Games organisers informing us of an additional earlier match on Centre Court this morning. Let's go faaast."  This was how Rati ensures I begin this day!

The matches at Wimbledon are behind schedule due to rain in the last few days (nothing new!). The back log requires to be made up. These Olympics folks are so organised as to send out individual emails about extra matches to ticket holders. Amazing.

We watch two more matches on Centre Court than what we have paid for - Andy Murray's mixed doubles quarter final and the Williams sister's doubles semi finals. Both matches are super to watch. It was indeed a bonus to get to see Andy Murray and Venus Williams play, not to mention Serena again blasting away to victory. Paes and Sania lose their quarter final in the afternoon. If only they had won we would have watched them play their semis on Court no 1. If only.

Rati and I have an unforgetable day. A full 10 hours we spend at Wimbledon. It somehow seems like but a couple of hours, such is the way time flies on Centre Court.