From Simon Barnes in Sydney
Some see Steve Redgrave's demented quest for his fifth gold medal at his
fifth Olympic Games as a heroic battle against time and the ageing process.
Others see it as an old man's struggle to maintain a reputation for
invincibility which is unravelling before our eyes.
Not Redgrave! But then Redgrave has never seen the world in quite the same
way as everybody else. For Redgrave, this is nothing to do with the making
of history. It is all about the wreaking of revenge. Redgrave is a man with
a vendetta; and a good vendetta always keeps a chap young.
The coxless four won their semi-final on Thursday, thundering out from the
start to take control of the race from the only place that Redgrave likes
to control races: from the front. They had clear water at halfway and rowed
the second thousand metres with calm efficiency. Solid stuff.
But they were disappointed. They were disappointed because Italy were not
in their heat. "They are the major culprits and we want to knock 'em off,"
said James Cracknell afterwards.
What, then, is the crime committed by the nation that gave the world
Leonardo, Michelangelo and Dante? They beat Redgrave, obviously. And that
is unforgivable. Obviously.
That defeat in Lucerne, when the unbeatable four finished fourth, has been
the most wonderfully rejuvenating thing. Suddenly, Redgrave is no longer in
the position of being the old gun-slinger that every one wants a pop at.
The pop has been had: he has been beaten.
His crew is not the hot favourite. The reputation for invincibility had
gone. The British four is the fourth seed in the competition, and that is
something Redgrave seriously resents. He has never been in such a situation
before; even back in the Dark Ages of 1984, his crew was favourite to win in
Los Angeles.
Being an underdog is a new skill to learn, and there is nothing like a new
skill for keeping you young. Cracknell summed up the feelings of the entire
crew: "It's nice to be tracking someone down," he said. "Much better than
feeling that you are the one that is being hunted."
Redgrave and his crew badly wanted to hunt down the Italians, having quite
emphatically knocked off the Australians in the first heat, the Aussies
being another of their deeply resented conquerors at the battle of Lucerne.
They don't seem to have thought of the possiblity that racing against Italy
might involve getting beaten by Italy.
They reject the notion that the easiest path to the final is the best:
they've got a hit-list, and the sooner they knock off all the people on it,
the more comfortable they will be with themselves.
As it was, they saw their trio of Lucerne conquerors tough it out with
Norway, the world record holders, in the second semi-final. That had to be a
real race, narrowly won by Australia (knocked off) from Italy (not knocked
off) with New Zealand (not knocked off) in third.
Interesting fact: the time of the winning crew, in a fiercely rowed race,
was only one third of a second faster than the Brits, who were cruising.
Highly significant? Or not significant at all. "You can kid yourself once
you start thinking that way," Redgrave said.
Positive thinking has become the new idiotspeak of sport. If I have one
more session of Tim Henman taking the positives from the latest calamitous
defeat, I seriously think I might scream. It has become a meaningless
prattle in the mouths of athletes the world over, and it doesn't even fool
the athlete.
But in this one case, there is a serious danger that all this - call it
pozzie-babble - might actually be about something true. Redgrave said that
the defeat was "the best possible thing for us mentally", and you can see
from two performances of epic solidity, and better still from Redgrave's
mien, that this is a better crew than the one that rowed in Lucerne.
Redgrave-watching at these times is a quadrennially fascinating occupation.
Four years ago, I remember him distant and remote, mind far from the
questions of the press. Someone commented on this, and in that moment
there was tiny vignette of what it is that makes him unique: "Sorry," he
said, as if stung. "Not really with you. Mind's on the race."
This time, he is rather different. He was, for him, talkative;
underdoggery and the notion of vendetta has loosened him up. It is a
different approach. He seemed less intense than last time - but please note
that "seemed". I suspect this current lightness is just a different form of
Redgravian intensity.
He even made a joke. He spoke about his "conscious decision" to enjoy
himself this week. "Because," he said, "in all likelihood, this is my last
Olympics." At least, I think it was a joke. But the point is, he said,
"There is not so much pressure and tension as there was last time."
The defeat, and the novelty of seeking revenge, has done all that: it has
worked in very happily with the personal dynamics of the four. They are
united in purpose, and the purpose just happens to be knocking folks off.
On, then, with the hunting: the shootout that will take place early on
Saturday morning for us out here. For those in distant time zones, it might
just be worth staying up for.
