BRITISH athletics presented us with the classic masks of comedy and tragedy yesterday as Paula Radcliffe, the fallen heroine of the marathon, wept for us and tried to explain why she gave up, then Kelly Holmes won gold for us.
Holmes swept to victory in the 800 metres and her face wore a look of puzzlement, followed by disbelief, followed by incredulous joy — the sort of deep comedy that is not that far from tears.
She showed us a face to lighten the load presented by Radcliffe’s disappointment in the marathon on Sunday. Holmes is one of those eternal good eggs of British athletics, always there, always busting a gut, usually somehow scraping a minor medal: a talent more renowned for hard work and honesty than for speed blessed by the gods.
But yesterday was her day and although it took a little time before she realised it, it was a moment of unforgettable delight when it happened: popping eyes and a flashgun smile. Somehow, these things have a special resonance for those who never thought it would happen.“I can’t believe it,” she kept on saying.“I just can’t believe it. I’m in shock.”
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She cruised past Maria Mutola, who had always had a psychological edge over her and suddenly noticed that she was a world-beater. Being first of the second class was no longer her thing: suddenly she was the golden one.
It was a day when the joy of the spear carrier eclipsed the tragedy of the leading lady. Radcliffe had said that she was going to the track to support the team, no doubt a form of rehab after the misery of the day before.
She rejected the option of flying back home and chose to face the world. If there were doubts about her courage when she gave up, she banished them in an affecting, tearful and above all, honest press conference. She did not swerve a single question.
What happened out there on the road? “I don’t know.”
That is the great thing. She hasn’t a clue why she stopped: the physical reasons are beyond her, as are the psychological ones. She doesn’t know what happened, only that it was terrible.
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But the searing heat? “I should have been able to cope. It was tough, but I didn’t feel dehydrated. I was in no distress from the heat. I was in shock last night. I was numb. I was unable to cry. I felt I had let everybody down. But no one was hurting inside like I was.”
That was the bit that unlocked the floodgates. What she needed was some one to give her a damn good hug and say “lighten up old girl, it’s only a bloody game”.
But perhaps not. Try telling Holmes it doesn’t matter.