IAAF World Championships: London 2017

[Lebohang]

 

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Transmissão:

 

Comitiva Portuguesa:

 

Masculinos:

 

David Lima (SL Benfica) . 100 e 200 metros

Ricardo Ribas (SL Benfica) - Maratona

Diogo Ferreira (SL Benfica) - Salto com Vara

Nelson Évora (Sporting CP) - Triplo Salto

Tsanko Arnaudov (SL Benfica) - Lançamento do Peso

Francisco Belo (SL Benfica) - Lançamento do Peso

João Vieira (Sporting CP) - 50 km marcha

Pedro Isidro (SL Benfica) - 50 km marcha

 

Femininos:

 

Lorene Bazolo (Sporting CP) - 200 metros

Cátia Azevedo (Sporting CP) - 400 metros

Marta Pen Freitas (SL Benfica) - 1500 metros

Carla Salomé Rocha (Individual) - 10000 metros

Filomena Costa (A Jardim da Serra) - Maratona

Sara Catarina Ribeiro (Individual) - Maratona

Patrícia Mamona (Sporting CP) - Triplo Salto

Susana Costa (SL Benfica) - Triplo Salto

Irina Rodrigues (Sporting CP) - Disco

Lecabela Quaresma (SL Benfica) - Heptatlo

Ana Cabecinha (CO Pechão) - 20 km marcha

Inês Henriques (CN Rio Maior) - 50 km marcha

[Hawkeye]

Ansioso para ver isto

 

 

Deve ser a competição desportiva que mais gosto de ver

[DonSk]

 

O adeus ao campeão! :heart: Como passou depressa este reinado.

 

Já agora, deixo aqui este artigo do The Guardian:

 

 

Usain Bolt: now you see him, soon you won’t…

 

He’s the fastest man who has ever lived, holder of eight gold medals and three world records. As Usain Bolt approaches his final race in London this week, we celebrate a sprinter who made running look both effortless and fun

 

 

There’s an old EA Sports commercial I dimly remember from my childhood. They make video games (I never played any of them) but the TV ad, or at least its tagline, has stuck in my head. Somehow, it shows mankind at the beginning of time or maybe I’ve conflated it with the opening from 2001: A Space Odyssey. A couple of cavemen are sitting around, arguing, until one of them comes up with a game. “I’m better than you and I can prove it,” he says. Since then, we’ve invented a lot of ways to prove it. By kicking balls into nets or throwing them into baskets; by striking them with rackets or clubs; by pressing buttons on a console. But the simplest game is also the one kids turn to first. I’ll race you: to that tree, to that fire-hydrant, to the lamp-post. Hey, I told you so. I’m faster than you.

 

Usain Bolt is better than us and he can prove it. Eight gold medals, three world records; he hasn’t been beaten in the 100 or 200m since Justin Gatlin edged him by a hundredth of a second in Rome in 2013. Not only is he better, but he’s better at the purest and most ancient test of what people can do that’s ever been devised… and he’s not just faster than us, but than anyone who has ever lived. What was that like to grow up with? And as he approaches his final world championships in London this week, another question must be on his mind. How do you retire from that? He was born, as Paul Simon once sang, at the right time. And the stories he tells in his “autobiography” (written with Matt Allen) about growing up in the village of Sherwood Content in Jamaica are full of the myths of innocence.

 

“There were yams, bananas, coca, coconuts, mangoes, oranges, guavas. Everything grew in and around the backyard… Coxeaths’ wild bush was like a natural playground. I only had to step out my front door to find something physical to do. There was always somewhere to play, always somewhere to run and always something to climb. The woods delivered an exercise programme suitable for any wannabe sprinter, with clearings to play in and assault courses made from broken coconut trees.”

 

If you had to imagine the fastest guy in the world, he would look like Bolt – long limbed, restless, happy

 

He “trained” by carrying water from the well to his house – two buckets at a time, to save himself a trip. Athletes, maybe even more than other people, depend on the myths they can tell about themselves and Bolt’s memoir lingers on his early playground races and the names of the schoolboys he compared himself to: the kid at Waldensia primary named Ricardo Geddes, whom he finally beat on a school sports day, and later Keith Spence of Cornwall College, muscly but short, a quick starter who couldn’t keep pace with him around the bend. So that winning Olympic gold, the way he tells it, feels just like a continuation or extension of his childhood, whereas for the rest of us, growing up involves some kind of adjustment or re-evaluation.

 

That something weird was happening to him, he couldn’t help but notice. Like Clark Kent in the newsroom, who slowly begins to understand that other people suffer from things that he doesn’t. Colds and hangovers, shaving cuts. Bolt’s mother’s Christianity (she’s a Seventh-day Adventist), though he never had much patience for it as a child, eventually gave him a kind of explanation: “I turned to religion more and more as I got older, mainly because I came to realise that I’d been given a serious gift. The one thing I began to see was that God always helped people who helped themselves.” If there’s a convenience to this kind of thinking, how can you blame him? It’s one thing to win the lottery – you might feel lucky (even though it’ll probably screw you up eventually). But what are you supposed to feel when the prize you win is somehow who you are? “I had so much natural talent that on sports day no one else came close to me and I’d line up in just about every race on the card and come first.”

 

 

His arrival on the scene coincided with dark days for track and field. Everyone seems to be a potential drug cheat these days and many of his biggest rivals have been caught doping: Asafa Powell, Justin Gatlin, Tyson Gay. But even that fact has contributed to Bolt’s appeal. In The Sun Also Rises, Hemingway talks scathingly about what he calls the “hard-shelled technicians” – the bullfight aficionados who care only for a certain kind of formal or technical perfection. They’re missing something, whatever it is that makes the fight worth following, the human gesture, the air of tragedy – and part of the damage that drugs have done to sport is the impression they give of letting the technicians take over. Drug-taking doesn’t just mean cheating but medicalisation. Cheating in the heat of the moment we can accept and even sometimes admire – Diego Costa pushing the edges of the legal when he elbows a defender or makes a dirty, last-ditch tackle at the touchline. But performance-enhancing drugs involve not just needles but persistent and highly technical deception, on a tight schedule. It’s the kind of cheating you might accept from your accountant.

 

Which is why it’s been so important to Bolt that he looks like the kind of athlete who doesn’t need them. If you had to imagine the fastest guy in the world, he would look like Bolt – long limbed, restless, happy. It makes sense when he kicks out his legs that he starts drifting past the competition. If Gatlin had never been caught, if he had broken three world records and won eight Olympic golds, I still don’t think the world would have warmed to him. He looks like he’s spent too much time in the weight room, like he’s trying too hard. This is an old distinction in the world of athletics – you can hear it played out already in Chariots of Fire. “You long for victory just as I do,” Harold Abrahams tells the master of Trinity College, “but achieved with the apparent effortlessness of gods. Yours are the archaic values of the prep-school playground. I believe in the relentless pursuit of excellence and I’ll carry the future with me.”

 

The apparent effortlessness of gods isn’t a bad description of Bolt and may explain why the British love him. That line about the playground fits, too (he got a scholarship to William Knibb Memorial high school in Falmouth, Jamaica), because Bolt somehow still makes running feel like he’s racing everyone else to the nearest tree. Of course, that’s all crap. You can’t be the fastest human in history without working your arse off. But it’s part of his appeal.

 

I sucked as an athlete, by which I mean I was deeply mediocre. I was on the bench as a high-school basketball player and tried to crash the captain’s practices in college. I had better luck in Europe, where my grad school team won a national championship and I briefly made a living as a second-tier professional in the German leagues. But the reason I quit is because I wasn’t good enough to enjoy myself. Maybe that’s an awkward phrase (which reveals something not so pleasant about me) but it also more or less describes what being an athlete is like. It’s fun to be better than people; it’s less fun not to be.

 

 

As it happens, the most dispiriting afternoon of my professional career occurred on the running track. The coach was trying to whip us into shape a few weeks before the season began. Maybe the gym was overbooked. (Part of the misery of minor-league sports is that you have to share court time with every aerobics class in town.) Anyway, after an hour of playing ball he decided to lead us on to the track. Summer dusk, after a cool day. Ten or 11 tall, tired, skinny guys trying to stretch out aching joints. And he made us run intervals – 20 metres, 40, 60 and up. Don’t kill yourself. Until we reached the 100m mark, where it suddenly turned into a race.

 

The first thing you realise about running 100m is that it’s not a sprint. No one (not even Bolt) can maintain peak acceleration for that long. The second thing I realised is that everyone on the team who wasn’t a muscle-bound big man was also faster than me. Sports is a rigorous profession – it is very good at sorting out the slightly better from the slightly worse. But basketball players can go through life kidding themselves that there are external factors to explain whatever has happened to their career. They couldn’t find the right system. They didn’t get the ball enough. It’s just bad luck. But running 100m felt very unlike bad luck and felt a lot like concrete fact. This is who I am, the guy who came 7th. There’s nothing you can do about it.

 

Which is how it works for athletes. You keep winning until you come up against the kids who are better than you, at which point you start to lose. And so the sifting begins. And once it’s over, a few people are left: Serena Williams, Lionel Messi, LeBron James, Usain Bolt. And my guess is they greet and recognise each other like X-Men when they meet – this funny thing is true about us, which we have to deal with.

 

So why do we warm to them? Why do we want to watch them win? This doesn’t totally make sense to me. People talk about Bolt’s charm and that’s obviously a part of it. But there’s a reason (to adapt Douglas Adams) that no language on Earth includes the phrase “as charming as an athlete”. Very slight gestures on the track get amplified into a personality. The windows of self-expression are small. A necklace tucked into the jersey, the way you stretch out your legs, settling in the blocks or jog around the track on a victory lap. Bolt has managed to find a perfect gesture for these narrow windows. It’s so famous that Obama tried it on when Bolt froze shyly in his presence on the president’s visit to Jamaica. And reality herself has been his brand consultant. No novelist could have given a sprinter a better name. All of which explains why we might remember him, but not quite why we’ve taken him to heart. Sitting on the couch, in front of the TV – rooting for someone, identifying with him, almost because he is so unlike us, so unimaginably fast.

 

When Eric Liddell has to justify his running career to his missionary sister (in another scene from Chariots of Fire), he says: “I feel that God made me for a purpose. But he also made me fast and when I run, I feel His pleasure.” Maybe that’s what we feel, too, watching Bolt, whether we believe in God or not. Or maybe it’s just Bolt’s pleasure we feel – the joy of being the fastest kid in the biggest playground in the world, which somehow he expresses for us and lets us partake in. Saul Bellow has a line in one of his short stories. In the end, everyone consents to the life they lead – and my experience of playing basketball backs this up. At some point in a game you consent to what’s going on. Especially when you’re losing. You say, OK, you’re right, you’ve proved it. But when you’re winning too – you have to consent to winning as well, you have to agree to victory, to accept the facts. (A version of one of Bolt’s sayings: “If I beat you in a big meet, you’re not going to beat me again.”) For some reason, we like to witness someone consent to that, too. Maybe just so we can see what it looks like.

 

So what’s he going to do with the rest of his life? John Updike puts this worry into the thoughts of his hero and former high school basketball star Harry “Rabbit” Angstrom, as he shrugs off the shackles of family life and sets off on the road (before he shrugs them back on again). “After you’ve been first rate at something, no matter what, it kind of takes the kick out of being second rate.” But first rate doesn’t begin to express what Bolt has been. And there’s a lot of life to live after the age of 30.

 

Of course, it’s not over yet. He’s got one last hurrah… and it’s a mistake to understand people only according to their successes. (Online, you can still find, like a glimpse of prehistory, the heat results for the 2000 high-school championships in Jamaica. Bolt came fifth, behind Keith Spence.) Bolt doesn’t just win by showing up and for much of this season, he has struggled to break 10 seconds. Andre De Grasse is the man in form, with a (wind-assisted) 9.69sec in Stockholm a month ago. He’s made it his mission to beat Bolt before he retires. The 100m sprint is about as simple and pure as sport gets. There’s no rub of the green, or bounce of the ball, or referee’s whistle to influence the outcome. And yet there’s still something out of an athlete’s control, that remains mysterious. Has Bolt got another gold medal in him? You don’t know what you’re going to do until you do it. Whether you’ll win or lose, how fast you’ll run. Which is another way of saying you don’t know who you are until it’s over.

 

Benjamin Markovits’s latest novel, You Don’t Have to Live Like This, is published by Faber

 

 

Bolt’s high points

 

Humble origins

Bolt’s father, Wellesley, still runs the grocery shop where his son once stacked shelves, while Usain claims his early motivation came from a desire to buy his mother a washing machine.

 

Charming in London

Bolt solidified his reputation as a lovable superhero by bookending victories with eccentric dancing, fist-bumping volunteers and taking infinite selfies.

 

Painful close-up

After cruising to gold in the 200m at the Beijing world championships in 2015, Bolt was run over by a cameraman on a Segway. Bolt joked that his rival Justin Gatlin was trying to have him killed.

 

Pointedly versatile

At a loose end in Rio last year, Bolt casually turned his hand to the javelin, loosing a maddeningly respectable throw of 56m – better than most heptathletes.

 

Retirement plans

Bolt is a keen footballer and has expressed a desire to play professional cricket on his retirement. In 2009, he played in a charity match and bowled Chris Gayle, the West Indies’ star batsman. Kit Buchan

 

https://www.theguardian.com/sport/2017/jul/30/usain-bolt-now-you-see-him-soon-you-wont-london-retirement

 

[ventura21]

Estou bastante optimista em relação ao De Grasse, acredito que venha ser o próximo campeão olímpico.

[Poeira]

É o fim de uma era :(

[ventura21]

To my fans and my supporters;

Earlier this week in practice, I suffered a hamstring tear that has forced me to withdraw from the World Championships.

Injuries are a part of the sport, and the timing of this one is especially unfortunate. While I’m in the best shape of my life and extremely disappointed that I will not have the chance to compete for my country in London, I can't forget or be ungrateful for the successes that I've been blessed with up to this point in my career.

Thank you to my family, friends and fans that have supported me all the way….. I'll be back stronger and faster than ever.

But for now, Canada still has a very strong team at the World Championships. They are preparing to take on the world, and the focus should be on them

 

Página do Facebook do De Grasse

 

Daaaaaamn. Uma grande baixa para os Mundiais. Sendo assim, o Bolt ganha (ainda mais) fácil.

Editado 3 Agosto 2017 por ventura21

[Alexis Ren]

Vai ser uma despedida do Bolt em grande.

[Lebohang]

 

Parece que não vai ter transmissão televisiva na RTP, ontem pelo menos não deu as qualificações dos 100 metros.

[Sylvester]

Pela primeira vez desde (sempre?) a RTP não comprou os direitos de uns grandes campeonatos de Atletismo.

 

Ou seja, só vai dar na Eurosport. Sempre pensei que os campeonatos do Mundo de atletismo estavam na lista de eventos desportivos de interesse público e tinham que ser transmitidos em sinal aberto, mas parece que não...

[Lebohang]

Eu por acaso antes de abrir o tópico dei uma olhadela na programação da RTP e não encontrei nada sobre isto mas pensei "Se calhar com a Volta a Portugal eles ainda não sabem muito bem como encaixar isto porque desta vez não vai haver diferenças horárias (GMT Londres = GMT Lisboa)." Daí ter metido o símbolo da RTP2 no 1ª post porque desde que me lembro sempre transmitiram isto.

 

Afinal de contas não estava na programação porque não vão transmitir. :|

[Lewan]

Ouvir o comentador da RTP já era uma tradição nestes campeonatos. :(

[pedropb13]

Hoje por acaso ia ver na RTP porque os comentadores da Eurosport estão lá no estádio e o som está adiantado... É um bocado estranho ouvir o tiro e os atletas partirem quase 1s depois.

 

In other news, Susana Costa e Patrícia Mamona na final do Triplo Salto, sendo que a Susana bateu o recorde pessoal! E no peso o Tsanko ficou a 47cm da final.

[pedropb13]

Vai começar agora a final dos 100m.

[pedropb13]

GATLIN (censurado)

[lordbifana]

Po crl dopados

[Gustavo_Kei]

Gatlin :celebracao:

[pedropb13]

Ganhou o único gajo que não podia ganhar... Bolt :(

Editado 5 Agosto 2017 por pedropb13

[DonSk]

É pá que surreal, perder para O Gatlin. :lol: Nós 200m ainda reinava o Bolt.

[Joao Pereira]

surreal porquê? até o próprio Bolt reconheceu que é/era o seu maior rival.

[Alexis Ren]

O Gatlin quando faz a vénia ao Bolt só isso demonstra o respeito que tem pelo Bolt, há que saber perder mas também saber ganhar.

[DonSk]

surreal porquê? até o próprio Bolt reconheceu que é/era o seu maior rival.

Era há uns anos atrás. Agora não. Mais depressa se metia a vitória no Coleman que no Gatlin.

[Enzo Dios Perez]

A recuperação do Gatlin é impressionante, nunca deu realmente a impressão de que pudesse ganhar até aos instantes finais.

9.94 não é pouco para uma final dos 100m? Tinha a ideia de que hoje em dia os melhores atletas baixavam facilmente dos 10s, mas se calhar estou mesmo equivocado.

[lordbifana]

A recuperação do Gatlin é impressionante, nunca deu realmente a impressão de que pudesse ganhar até aos instantes finais.

9.94 não é pouco para uma final dos 100m? Tinha a ideia de que hoje em dia os melhores atletas baixavam facilmente dos 10s, mas se calhar estou mesmo equivocado.

houve uma altura que sim...agr ou estão velhos, ou vêm de lesões ou nem estão cá pq estão lesionados

[Lebohang]

[pete]

Como é que estamos de Portugueses? Quando são as finais e quem estará presente?

 

abraço