Athletics

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“LEGS, arms, eyebrows, chest hair, nipples, inner thigh, everything. And I mean everything. I raised €2,500 that night but they took every bit of hair off me with the waxing,” says Ross Long as he thinks back on that night in the Gaelic Bar.

The Carrigaline local organised a quiz night in the pub and a waxing charity drive so he could get himself on the place to the Special Olympics in Athens.  He also had the Kieran Kramer band entertain the locals, the Corner House in the city’s Coburg St opened their doors and Lifiemi Mafi donated a Munster jersey to raffle. Friends rallied, favours were called in and the €3,750 that every Special Olympics volunteer needs to table was boxed off.

Thousands of miles away, a 14-year-old Chinese athlete was making less painful preparations for his trip to the Greek capital. And Jun Sung, turned out to be quite happy that Long left the Gaelic Bar without a whisper of body hair – and his fund-raising problems sorted.

“I went out and was paired up with a Chinese golfer,” says Long 24 hours after touching down in Dublin with a campaign which say Team Ireland take 107 medals in total behind him.

“It was extremely frustrating at the beginning because of the language barrier.  He was a good golfer – I could see that – but he needed a lot of encouraging and his concentration wasn’t good.”

With the Chinese lad seemingly not too adept with Long’s lilting Leeside accent and the caddy knowing little Cantonese, he didn’t get much encouragement on their first day out together on the greens. He shot a very disappointing 71.

“He just needed someone to talk him through it,” continues Long.  “So we went back in and I was thinking ‘how am I going to help this fella now?’

“So I went up to his coach who spoke a bit of English and said ‘I need Jun Sung – his name was Jun Sung – to be able to understand me’.

“I have one of these phones with a voice recorder in it and I got the coach to say about 10 phrases into the machine.”

There, off the course, the three stood as they muddled through a series of phrases that Long thought would be helpful.

“Please concentrate Jun Sung.”

“The lie of the putt is left.”

 

“The lie of the putt is right.”

“Your choice of club is wrong.”

“You need extra power because of the sand.”

The pair headed out the next day with a small hole punched through the language barrier.

“He shot 59 and picked up 11 shots,” says the Corkman, “then the third day he hit 51 and the last was 60.”“What can I say, I came up with an ingenious plan and helped him out,” the caddy deadpans.

“We definitely bonded. We were high-fiving all the way around the course; that was my way of telling him that he had hit a good shot. So if he made a mistake or whatever and I held back the high five, the head would drop.

“Then on the next hole if he did better he’d give me a thumbs up and we’d have a high-five. He was only 14 and he only had two words in English: ‘water’ and ‘okay’.

“[But] I went out there and was paired with a Chinese golfer who I never met and by the end there was of course an emotional attachment.  On the last day I gave him a Team Ireland T-shirt with Athens 2011 on it and our logo and he gave me a little Chinese doll that someone must have given to him to give to me.  I don’t where he got it from.

The performance earned the youngster a bronze medal.  The Chinese coaches were jumping around behind the rope as they tried to explain to the athlete what he’d achieved, despite a terrible start.

“There was definitely a few hugs at the end,” he adds.

So Leeside can take some credit for a Chinese medal. Did Long go to see its presentation?

“We all went to the awards ceremony to support the Irish athletes but obviously when athletes from other countries got their medals we’d cheer and clap them too. But when Sung got his medal he got an extra cheer from the Irish,” he recalls.

The luggage is unpacked again and the trip for this volunteer is a tan, some wonderful memories and a little Chinese doll. Was the waxing worth it to get there?

“When you wake up the next morning with no hair but you’re fundraising is done it’s worth it. Fellas were coming up saying ‘I’ll give you fifty for half an eye-brow’.

“And I was like: give me it. I’m delighted I got there.”

You get the feeling, he’s not the only one.Adrian@thescore.ie Twitter: @adrianrussell

pena

Saturday night: I borrow a pair of paint-splattered overalls, fold a South American-looking scarf around my neck, pull on a pair of black boots and secure a spotlight to my forehead.

Hey presto, Trapped Chilean Miner is ready for a Halloween party, a doner cab and a local discoteque – not necessarily in that order. The craic, you can well imagine, is noventa.

Tuesday night: I’m locked in a bathroom, behind a door with a faulty lock. In a half-panic as the minutes slip by, I snap the key in half as I try to force the lock open. Hope flushes from the horizon.

A Polish man from next door arrives with a toolbox some considerable time later, a drunken Spanish tenant and his pal who arrive after the first hour in captivity try to coax me from the toilet window to that of an adjacent room. No way, Jose.

A burly Chinese student from next door is dispatched to offer his advice. I sit on the edge of the bath checking the scores of the Champions League games on my phone and text loved ones on the outside. I close my eyes and try to remember what their faces looked like as the oxygen begins to run out.

Forty five minutes into the ordeal I’m eating toothpaste and have promoted a rubber ducky to Head of Communications.

Ultimately, Ken – the strapping Chinese lad – starts shouldering the door as if he’s played Junior B. Half a dozen wallops later he bursts into the bathroom. I tell him Crouchy has just scored against Inter.

One Spaniard peeks around the frayed door frame, runs his finger along the splintering wall, picks up one half of the key like it promises to reveal an exotic treasure and utters the word: ‘roto’. Broken.

So as Morrissey sang, that joke isn’t funny anymore – and after a weekend making light of their subterranean plight, I now know EXACTLY how those coal workers felt trapped beneath the red Chilean earth for 70 days or whatever.

But I don’t know Edison Peña.

How exactly would the average person spend 69 days trapped underground? Peña ran three to six miles daily. As the world’s media attempted to square each man off into neat compartments – the telephonist, the footballer, the philandering husband – you might have come to know of Pena through the label he still wears like a medal.

Pena is the runner. It was said his colleagues worried for his sanity as he circled the mine relentlessly and explained in letters reeled earthwards to family that he was fighting the very earth that encased him by running and running and running.

Now he’s running the New York City marathon this weekend. I applied last year to enter too but wasn’t successful in the complicated selection process that involves a draw for those who don’t pledge to fulfil specific charitable criteria.

Pena was spared the indignity of the City Hall lottery which chooses those to fill the most valuable real estate in Manhattan – the start line in the marathon.

While he earned – and he earned it God knows – the nickname “el minero corredor,” or “the runner,” because he’d run throughout the network of tunnels, half a mile underground daily, he requested an iPod for his pump-up music. (Everyone needs their soundtrack – mine includes Wu Tang, Gorillaz and ACDC. Boom!)

Following his instructions, the MP3 player was filled solely with Elvis Presley tracks.
The New York Road Runners president, Mary Wittenberg, invited the 34-year-old to take part in the race itself or to attend as guest of honour, maybe see the sights, stay in mid-town hotel. He chose to run.

The marathon “is all about inspiration and perseverance, and those values were never more evident than during the survival and rescue of Edison and his brothers in that mine,” Wittenberg said. “He also demonstrated how running can play an important role in our physical and emotional well-being under any circumstances.”

He was the 12th miner to corkscrew to freedom last month. This time he’ll be happy to be back the field a little.
“We don’t know how far he’ll be able to go,” said Julio Fiol, the UN’s Chilean consul-general this week, “but he’s going to try his best. Perhaps this time, hope will win.”

Not exactly ideal preparation on the weekend of a big race, last night David Letterman welcomed the colliery worker to the famous Ed Sullivan theatre for a recording of the Late Show.

After the race on Monday morning, Peña plans on packing his jogging gear into his bag and heading for Graceland to visit his hero. The miner has been promised a private tour of the mansion and Elvis’ grave.

What a world – a man goes to work humming The Wonder of You, clocks off over two months later and after completing many in the interim, lies one more marathon away from the graveside of The King.

I’ll put my name down again next year. But who knows what will happen between now and then.

Adrianjrussell@gmail.com Twitter: @adrianrussell

unlucky

The news broadcasts are creaking under the weight of cliches like ‘blankets of snow’, ‘big freezes’ while footpaths are engaging in treachery.

As the country has slowed ground to a halt, the sporting world has been the same.

Meanwhile, in today’s Irish Examiner, despite the present icy inertia, about two dozen of our staff writers and columnists have looked ahead to the events that will define the Irish sporting year. I can’t link to the website as it’s a graphic but check it out in the hard copy if you’re in Ireland. There’s some surprising calls.

In the meantime, here’s my effort: Read the rest of this entry »