Friday was eventful, to say the very least. After dragging ourselves out of bed (our muscles were still valiantly attempting to recover from the day before), we hopped on the Tube and returned to the North Greenwich Arena for our last Olympic event: Men's Trampoline. We had incredible seats this time around, down in the bottom section, only a few rows back from the action. Of course, of all of the gymnastics events, this was the one for which being way up in the air was actually advantageous (trampolinists jump up to 10 meters in the air!), but it was still nice not to be in the nosebleeds.
The trampoline competition was set up such that qualifications led straight into finals and then into the medal ceremony, all without a pause for breath. This lightning-fast process mirrored the speed of the trampoline routines; if you blinked, you might miss the difference between a fatal misstep and a medal. However, being able to see the entire process from start to finish in one sitting was a unique experience, and obviously provided a degree of continuity which the other events that I attended lacked.
One hour after first presenting themselves to the judges,
the finalists stepped forward again for the last time.
At first, I thought that watching people bouncing around on a trampoline would be a bit boring; after all, a trampoline is a training device for other events. I was proved wrong rather quickly though; not only do these athletes jump incredibly high, they do the fastest somersaults that I have ever seen, and precision is even more essential than in other gymnastics events. Because while the trampoline's meter-wide target box looks pretty big from the ground, from 10 meters in the air, it looks like a postage stamp, and if you hit the edge of the trampoline, you are finished. Not only does it sound like it hurts a lot, but there are no second chances in this event; once you fall, your routine is over. And with 10 high-speed tricks per routine, there is little margin for error. I was surprised to find myself literally on the edge of my seat for many of the routines, joining in the audience's collective gasps and sighs of relief as athletes edged too close to the springs and (hopefully) recovered. It was intense.
Every single picture I have of this
event shows rather blurry trampolinists. I was upset until I realized
that they were simply going too quickly to allow a clear shot.
There were considerably more heart-wrenching moments in this event, unsurprisingly. When someone hit the edge of the trampoline, he knew that his chances were over. This led to tears in the particularly heartbreaking case of an older athlete who knew that this would be his final Olympics, grouchy sulking in the case of the lone American, for whom I lost all respect after he sulked to an unsportsmanlike degree after a late fall in his second qualifying routine, and sometimes, admirable acceptance, particularly by the Canadian part-time-stuntman who fell on his second trick in the final, and the German athlete whom the commentator called "the nicest bloke in all of gymnastics," both of whom shrugged off their disappointment and waved cheerily to the loudly applauding crowd.
But when all went according to plan, and the routine was executed flawlessly-- that was a site to behold. Again, the flips and somersaults were so fast that the athletes often looked like blurs at the top of their flight, so it was difficult to tell how many rotations someone did, but the overall effect was impressive. You could instinctively tell who had the grace and precision to set them apart from the rest of the competition; they looked like they could have simply bounced off of the trampoline and flown through the arena without any effort. And there was one athlete who simply blew everyone away: Dong Dong (possibly the greatest name in the history of names) of China performed a final routine that contained five quadruple somersaults in a row, a feat which had never been achieved in a competition at this level. The audience roared when his routine was flawlessly completed; it was simply incredible. Dong Dong came up from a fifth-place seed to win gold over his teammate, Lu Chenlong, the reigning world champion, who took bronze, and an incredibly graceful Russian athlete, Dmitry Ushakov, took silver.
Dong Dong doing his insanely somersaulty routine.
...and then accepting his medal!
After leaving the arena, we made our way to London Bridge, where we popped into the opening of an awesome gourmet food festival hosted by one of Suzanne's colleagues for a bite to eat for dinner. Many of the top restaurants in London were represented with a stand in what was likely the best-smelling courtyard in all of England. I had a Banh Mi that was to die for, as well as the best meringues that I have ever eaten, in the form of an Eton mess (meringues+clotted cream+berry curd+fresh berries). Despite being completely full when we bought it, Suzanne and I finished this bowl of deliciousness within two minutes, and didn't even make it 10 feet away from the stand where we bought it.
Happily stuffed, we took a quick stroll along the south bank of the Thames to get to the National Theatre:
Lots of excellent Wenlocks on this walk.
As well as lovely picturesque views!
We got to the theatre just in time for
our show, "The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time," a totally
sold-out play based off of the wonderful novel by Mark Haddon. If you
haven't read it yet, stop what you're doing and get a copy right now.
If you have read it, you probably understand why I was so excited to see
this play. The show was every bit as good as the book, and if I dare
to say so, maybe even better. Every detail of the book came to life in
that little black box theatre; lighting and sound were used brilliantly,
and the cast was phenomenal. [By the way, the cast included Una
Stubbs, aka Mrs. Hudson from ''Sherlock," as Mrs. Alexander, as well as
Paul Ritter, the father from "Friday Night Dinner," as Christopher's
father, which made my head spin a little bit, but was super awesome.]
It was funny, heartbreaking, and profoundly moving in turns; all in all,
absolutely incredible.
After the show, we took a more languid stroll along the Thames, and as we walked most of the way back to the flat, I savored London's beautiful sights and sounds and tried to commit them to memory, at least until I manage to return!
I packed my bags that night (how I managed to fit everything is beyond me. Rain boots take up so much room!), and left early the next morning. Despite my residual Heathrow anxiety (I still haven't forgotten the Snowpocalypse of '10), all went smoothly, and I made it back to the States exhausted but still thrilled beyond belief with how incredible this once-in-a-lifetime trip was for me. Sure, the Olympics might be slightly ruined for me from now on, because watching on tv simply cannot compare to being there in person, but I have an entirely new perspective on and appreciation for the Games and for sport in general, and I wouldn't trade my experience for anything.
Well, my friends, I'm afraid that this is farewell. Thank you so much for reading, and if you, like some of the other mumblers who have convinced me to do this, are interested in following my new adventures as I adjust to adult life in a big city, feel free to check out the new blogging endeavor, Capitolized. Cheers, dear readers!
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