Paris Olympics: rowing and swimming (30-07-2024)

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And the day finally came, for the first time in my life I saw an Italian win a medal at the Olympics. 12 years ago, in London, I had seen the medal being prepared and the certainty of winning at least silver, but I had not seen the final. Thank you, Greg Paltrinieri, even though for a moment we hoped it would be even better, it is another medal that enriches a fantastic career.

 

But let's start from the beginning. The day had started early (way too early) with the rowing session. I arrive at the shuttle station around 9.15, by which time it was clear that I would see it begun (start was at 9.30). There are, however, a few people arriving at this time. Among them are the relatives of Nicolas Kohl, of the Italian four, whom I meet on the shuttle: in all my stay in Paris so far, I had never seen so many Italians together. When the shuttle arrives, there's still a long way to go (I'll measure it on the way back: it's about 1250 metres): when I had been to see whitewater canoeing, I had seen that the flat water basin was further away, but I didn't think it was that far.

 

I go in at almost 10 o'clock and it is already very hot, I look at where my seat is and discover... that I don't have a seat: they are standing places! I go back to wondering why I was doing that, after I had already done it when I got up. The fourth quarter-final of the women's sculls is under way: I settle in the first place I find, towards the 1500 m buoy, waiting for them to pass. Finished, I make to move away, but I see that the first quarter-final of the men's sculls is already about to start. The races are practically ontinuous: the starts are every 10 minutes, which means that between the arrival of one and the start of the next there are about 3 minutes, but they are not noticeable: having proclaimed the official result of one race, they begin the presentation of the next.

I go a few metres further towards the start, and from there I see the first two quarters of the sculls, I notice that the period when the boats are in sight is about 2 minutes. Then I really have to go for a drink and to the toilet. On the way back, I look for better accommodation: I find a less crowded place, where I can also sit when the boats are far away. However, it has the disadvantage of being far from the screens, so most of the time you have to rely on the speaker to find out the placings. From this position the boats are visible from just before the halfway point until almost the finish, but the stretch where the perspective allows you to understand the placings is much shorter, no more than 250-300 metres. Around me only French, further on a Dutch family: after the locals, the nationalities most present are Dutch and Danish.

We arrive at the first competition for both us and the French: the first semi-final of the women's doubles. The French are thrilled with their crew, which is always in a qualifying position (top three) and at times seems to be able to attack for first place. They celebrate qualification with ‘who doesn't jump is not French’ (it will be heard again tonight at swimming). Italy remains last all the time and even loses contact with the penultimate in the final. After the semifinals of the men's doubles, with France failing to qualify and Italy absent, the French around me leave and so I can advance almost to the first row. I see the recoveries of the four, first women's (without Italy) and then men's, where we take revenge on France: Italy is in the lead the whole time, after it has passed me it seems that Romania and France are catching up with it, but it's perspective, in reality we are firmly in the lead and we win over Romania and France, which therefore remains out (two were passing).

Once the races are over, it's back to the start of the shuttle,s in a devastating heat. The queue for the shuttles is long, but it is over in a quarter of an hour: I confirm that it is the most efficient shuttle service I have ever seen.

In the early afternoon I visit the Parc des Nations, the village that hosts the ‘houses’ of different countries. I visited those of Colombia and Mexico, among the few with free entry, i.e., requiring neither payment nor registration. A good experience, a pity I didn't have more time.

And we come to the evening session, with swimming. I arrive at La Defense with a good margin, almost an hour, but 10 minutes pass to get from the metro station to the arena and just as many in the queue at the gates. I am however inside the arena just before 8pm, so I decide to get some food. It doesn't turn out to be a good idea: we don't understand each other and instead of the curry toast I had ordered I get two beers. When I manage to get the toast, I discover that I don't like it and throw it away.

Eventually the margin is almost over, I arrive at my front door with 10 minutes to go. I open the door and find myself in front of the pool, very close, only a few steps down. I can't actually see much because they are playing a light game, but when the lights come on I can see better how close it is, and I remain so even as I climb up to my seat. The seats next to me are already occupied, but in the row there are a few vacant ones left, then they will fill up, but in other blocks there will be a few empties, although I think the block with the most empties was the athletes' sector. Next to me, on one side are French, on the other some Asians, who when they announce their athlete (in the 200 butterfly) I discover are from Taiwan. In my row there are also Chinese from the People's Republic and even Colombians (Colombia was not represented). In the front row, Americans and British, around, Australians and, it will be seen in the 800 sl, also many Irish. In the front rows there were also many Italians.

Already when they announce the participants in the first race, you can see that, after the French, the most numerous are Americans and British, but there are also numerous Australians and, as I said, Irish, When they announce Noè Ponti you can see that there is also a good representation of Swiss. The Chinese are also more than yesterday in archery (I went to see the team archery yesterday, but due to technical problems with my PC I couldn't write about it). Among the countries with a swimming tradition, Hungary, Canada and Sweden are underrepresented. The former I think is even the only country represented, apart from Kyrgyzstan, whose flag I did not see: I also saw one from the Philippines and a small group from Iceland. But the strongest cheer is always for home athletes: the French are especially excited about Marchand, the 400 metres mixed champion, who competes first in the 200 butterfly, winning the semi-final and reaching the final with the second fastest time, and then also in the 200 breaststroke (and the first time I have ever seen one compete in the breaststroke and another style), where he will set the best time. In the breaststroke they will also mark the rhythm of his every stroke. Sometimes the enthusiasm (not only of the French) is such that it is hard to get silence for the start.

I soon realise that my position, behind the pool on the start side, is excellent for watching the swimmers' arrival, their preparation and the start (I will later discover that it allows me to see them very closely, after the race, because they have to pass by the table right in front of my block to get the pass for the mixed zone), but it does not allow me much to understand how the race is going, especially in the sprint races, where the gaps are smaller, except a little at the touch. In fact, in the first race, the semi-finals of the 100 fs, I didn't understand much about how Miressi was going, who was out of the final by 1/100. In the second, the 200 butterfly, it goes better: in the second semi-final I see Malek take off. We get to the first final, the women's 100 backstroke, where looking through binoculars I notice that the Australian McKeown is the first to touch.

And we come to Paltrinieri's race. After the first 100, where they're all close together and you can't understand anything, I realise that he's behind the two in the lanes next to him, the Irish Wiffen and the American Finke, but at the 400 I see that he's come closer, and in fact he's moved up from sixth to fourth place. At the 450 he is still behind Finke and Wiffen, but ahead of everyone else, at the 500 he is second, at the 600 he is in the lead and at the 700 he has a good margin. In the penultimate length, however, first Wiffen and then Finke start to catch up. In the last pool my sector is almost all standing and you can hear the Irish cheering a lot. In the end they are the ones celebrating and Paltrinieri is third: great race anyway.

The victory ceremony for the 100 backstroke follows: the podium is on the side opposite mine, while on my side flags are raised on flagpoles being lowered from the ceiling. The Australian anthem plays, which to an Italian ear reminds one of an old mountain song in the attack, and no one can be heard singing it, even though there are many Australians present (the lyrics exist, I checked). Instead, when the Irish anthem plays, I hear it sung rather loudly behind me. The break coincided with the epee final, so I was able to read about Italy's gold and thus the Fiamingo-Paltrinieri couple's double medal.

After the seimifinals of the women's 100 sl and men's 200 breaststroke, we close with the final of the 4X200, which i wth 9 teams because of a tie in the heats. There was great involvement of the public, almost all of whom were on their feet, since, after an attempt by Germany at the start, it soon resolves itself into a three-way battle between the countries most represented in the attendance after France: Great Britain, the USA and Australia. In the end it's the British who celebrate.

Once the relay is over, there would still be a victory ceremony, but many are heading for the exit. I decide to do it too, as I have to have dinner, go back to the hotel and write, but no one in my row does, so I have to make way.

 Another fantastic experience in a beautiful venue and with one of the most international attendances of the Olympics, Tomorrow table tennis and volleyball, in the venue next to the hotel.

 

 

Olimpiadi di Parigi: canottaggio e nuoto (30-07-2024)

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 E il giorno finalmente è arrivato, per la prima volta in vita mia ho visto un italiano vincere una medaglia alle Olimpiadi. 12 anni fa, a Londra, avevo visto preparare la medaglia ed arrivare alla certezza di vincere almeno l'argento, ma non avevo visto il finale. Grazie, Greg Paltrinieri, anche se per un attimo abbiamo sperato andasse ancora meglio, è un'altra medaglia che corona una carriera fantastica.

Ma cominciamo dall'inizio. La giornata era cominciata presto (decisamente troppo) con la sessione di canottaggio. Arrivo alla stazione di partenza delle navette verso le 9,15, ormai è chiaro che la vedrò cominciata (l'inizio era alle 9,30). C'è comunque un po' di gente che arriva a quest'ora. Tra questi, i familiari di Nicolas Kohl, del quattro senza italiano, che incontro sulla navetta: in tutto il mio soggiorno parigino, finora, non avevo mai visto così tanti italiani assieme. Arrivata la navetta, c'è ancora un bel pezzo da fare (al ritorno lo misurerò: sono circa 1250 metri): quando ero stato a vedere la canoa fluviale, avevo visto che il bacino delle acque ferme era più lontano, ma non pensavo di così tanto.

Entro che sono quasi le 10 e fa già molto caldo, guardo dove sia il mio posto e scopro... di non avere un posto: sono posti in piedi! Torno a chiedermi chi me l'ha fatto fare, dopo che l'avevo già fatto al momento di alzarmi. E' in corso il quarto quarto di finale del singolo donne: mi sistemo nel primo posto che trovo, verso la boa dei 1500 metri, aspettando che passino. Finito, faccio per allontanarmi, ma vedo che sta già per partire il primo quarto di finale del singolo maschile. Le gare sono praticamente a ciclo continuo: le partenze sono ogni 10 minuti, il che vuol dire che tra l'arrivo di una e la partenza della successiva ci sono circa 3 minuti, ma non si notano: proclamato il risultato ufficiale di una gara, cominciano la presentazione della successiva.

Vado qualche metro più verso la partenza, e da lì vedo i primi due quarti del singolo, noto che il periodo in cui le barche sono in vista è di circa 2 minuti. Poi devo proprio andare a prendermi da bere e in bagno. Al ritorno, cerco un sistemazione migliore: trovo un posto meno affollato, dove posso anche sedermi quando le barche sono lontane. Ha però il difetto di essere lontano dagli schermi, per cui per la maggior parte del tempo per sapere i piazzamenti bisogna fare affidamento sullo speaker. Da questa posizione le barche sono visibili da poco prima di metà gara fino quasi all'arrivo, ma il tratto in cui la prospettiva consente di capire i piazzamenti è molto più breve, non più di 250-300 metri. Attorno a me solo francesi, più avanti una famiglia olandese: dopo i locali, le nazionalità più presenti sono olandesi e danesi.

Si arriva alla prima gara sia per noi, sia per i francesi: la prima semifinale del doppio femminile. I francesi si esaltano per il loro equipaggio che è sempre in posizione da qualifica (prime tre) e a tratti sembra poter attaccare il primo posto. Festeggiano la qualificazione con  "chi non salta non è francese" (si sentirà anche stasera al nuoto). L'Italia rimane ultima tutto il tempo e nel finale perde anche contatto con la penultima. Dopo le semifinali del doppio maschile, con la Francia che non si qualifica e l'Italia assente, i francesi attorno a me se ne vanno e quindi posso avanzare fin quasi alla prima fila. Vedo i recuperi del quattro senza, prima femminile (senza l'Italia) e poi maschile, dove ci prendiamo la rivincita sulla Francia: l'Italia è in testa tutto il tempo, dopo che mi è passata davanti a mi sembra la stiano raggiungendo Romania e Francia, ma è prospettiva, in realtà siamo saldamente in testa e vinciamo su Romania e Francia, che rimane quindi fuori (passavano in due).

Finite le gare, c'è da tornare alla partenza delle navette in un caldo devastante. La fila per le navette è lunga, ma si smaltisce in un quarto d'ora: confermo che si tratta del servizio di navette più efficiente che abbia mai visto.

Nel primo pomeriggio visito il Parc des Nations, il villaggio che ospita le "case" di diversi paesi. Ho visitato quelle di Colombia e Messico, tra le poche a ingresso libero, ossia che non richiedesse né un pagamento, né una registrazione. Bella esperienza, peccato avere poco tempo.

E si arriva alla sessione serale, con il nuoto. Arrivo a La Defense con un buon margine, quasi un'ora, ma 10 minuti passano per arrivare dalla fermata della metro all'arena e altrettanti in coda all'ingresso. Sono comunque dentro l'arena poco prima delle 20: decido quindi di prendermi da mangiare. Non si rivela una buona idea: non ci capiamo e invece del toast al curry che avevo ordinato mi danno due birre. Quando riesco ad avere il toast, scopro che non mi piace e lo butto.

Alla fine il margine e quasi esaurito, arrivo al mio ingresso che mancano 10 minuti. Apro la porta e mi trovo davanti la vasca, vicinissima, solo pochi gradini più in basso. In realtà non vedo molto perché stanno facendo un gioco di luce, ma quando le luci si accendono vedo meglio quanto sia vicino, e lo rimarrò anche salito al mio posto. I posti vicino a me sono già occupati, ma nella fila ne rimane qualcuno libero, Poi si riempirà, ma in altri settori rimarrà qualche vuoto, anche se credo che il settore con più vuoti fosse quello degli atleti. Accanto a me, da un lato francesi, dall'altro degli asiatici che quando annunceranno il loro atleta (nei 200 farfalla) scoprirò essere di Taiwan. Nella mia fila ci sono anche cinesi della Repubblica Popolare e persino colombiani (la Colombia non era rappresentata). Nella fila davanti, americani e britannici, attorno, australiani e, si vedrà negli 800 sl, anche molti irlandesi. Nelle prime file del mio settore c'erano anche numerosi italiani.

Già quando annunciano i partecipanti alla prima gara, si vede che, dopo i francesi, i più numerosi sono americani e britannici, ma sono numerosi anche gli australiani e, come dicevo, gli irlandesi, Quando annunceranno Noè Ponti si vedrà che c'è anche una buona rappresentanza di svizzeri. Anche i cinesi sono più di ieri al tiro con l'arco (ieri sono andato a vedere l'arco a squadre, ma per problemi tecnici col PC non ne ho potuto scrivere). Tra i paesi di tradizione natatoria, sono invece sottorappresentati Ungheria, Canada e Svezia. La prima credo sia addirittura l'unico paese rappresentato, oltre al Kirghizistan, di cui non ho visto neanche una bandiera: ne ho visto anche una delle Filippine e un gruppetto dell'Islanda. Ma il tifo più forte è sempre quello di casa: i francesi si esaltano soprattutto per Marchand, il campione dei 400 misti, che gareggia prima nei 200 farfalla, vincendo la semifinale e arrivando il finale col secondo tempo, e poi anche nei 200 rana (e la prima volta che vedo uno gareggiare nella rana e un altro stile), dove farà il miglior tempo. Nella rana scandiranno anche il ritmo di ogni sua bracciata. A volte l'entusiasmo (non solo dei francesi) è tale che si fatica a ottenere il silenzio per la partenza.

Mi accorgo presto che la mia posizione, dietro la vasca lato partenze, è ottima, per l'appunto, per vedere l'ingresso dei nuotatori, la loro preparazione e la partenza (scoprirò poi che consente di vederli da molto vicino, dopo la gara, perché devono passare dal tavolo proprio davanti al mio settore per prendere il pass per la zona mista), ma non consente molto di capire come stia andando la gara, soprattutto in quelle sprint, dove i distacchi sono minori, tranne un po' al momento del tocco. Infatti nella prima gara, le semifinali dei 100 sl, non capirò molto di come stesse andando Miressi, che rimarrà fuori dalla finale per 1/100. Nella seconda, i 200 farfalla, va meglio: nella seconda semifinale vedo che Malek prende il largo. Si arriva alla prima finale, quella dei 100 dorso donne, dove guardando col binocolo mi accorgo che l'australiana McKeown è la prima a toccare.

E si arriva alla gara di Paltrinieri. Dopo i primi 100, dove sono tutti vicini e non si capisce niente, mi accorgo che è dietro ai due nelle corsie accanto, l'irlandese Wiffen e l'americano Finke, ma ai 400 vedo che si è avvicinato, e infatti e risalito dal sesto al quarto posto. Ai 450 è ancora dietro a Finke e Wiffen, ma davanti a tutti gli altri, ai 500 è secondo, ai 600 è in testa e ai 700 ha un buon margine. Nella penultima vasca, però, prima Wiffen, poi Finke cominciano a rimontare. Nell'ultima vasca il mio settore è quasi tutto in piedi e si sente tantissimo il tifo irlandese. Alla fine sono loro a festeggiare e Paltrinieri è terzo: grande gara comunque.

Segue la premiazione dei 100 dorso: il podio è dal lato opposto al mio, mente dal mio lato si alzano le bandiere sui pennoni che vengono calati dal soffitto. Suona l'inno australiano, che a un orecchio italiano ricorda, nell'attacco, "Quel mazzolin di fiori", e non si sente nessuno cantarlo, nonostante gli australiani presenti siano tanti (il testo esiste, ho controllato). Quando invece suonerà l'inno irlandese, dietro di me lo sentirò cantare piuttosto forte. La pausa coincideva col finale della spada: ho potuto quindi leggere dell'oro dell'Italia e quindi della doppia medaglia della coppia Fiamingo-Paltrinieri.

Dopo le semifinali dei 100 sl donne e dei 200 rana uomini, si chiude con la finale della 4X200, che è a 9 per via di un pari merito. Grande coinvolgimento del pubblico, quasi tutto in piedi, visto che, dopo un tentativo della Germania all'inizio, ben presto si risolve in una lotta a tre fra i paesi più rappresentati nel pubblico dopo la Francia: Gran Bretagna, USA e Australia. Alla fine saranno i britannici a festeggiare.

Finita la staffetta, ci sarebbe ancora la premiazione, ma molti si avviano verso l'uscita. Decido farlo anch'io, visto che devo cenare, tornare in albergo e scrivere, ma nella mia fila non lo fa nessuno, quindi devo farmi largo.

Altra fantastica esperienza in un bellissimo impianto e con uno dei pubblici più internazionali delle Olimpiadi, Domani tennis tavolo e pallavolo, nell'impianto vicino all'albergo.

Paris Olympics: whitewater canoeing (28-07-2024)

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The whitewater canoeing facility at Vaires-sur-Marne is very out of the way. Just to get to the station where the shuttles leave, you have to take two transports and it takes more than an hour. Once at the station, however, the volunteers immediately indicate the departure of the shuttles: there are many available and there is no queue. The journey takes about fifteen minutes, but when we arrive in sight of the grandstands we get stuck on a bridge for another ten or so, then, after a few metres, they let us off. To get to the entrance there is a path: at the gates there is a bit of a queue, but in five minutes we get in.

In the end it took just under two hours to get there. So I wonder at what time I will have to leave to go and watch the rowing, in the facility immediately after this one, which starts at 9.30 am. I certainly won't follow the suggestion of arriving an hour and a half earlier, it will be enough to arrive for the start of the first race. Now, meanwhile, it's 45 minutes to the start: it remains to get food. Unlike yesterday, there are kiosks that sell more than just snacks, but still cold food: I take a sandwich and a packet of biscuits. While I am in the queue, I see that the stands are still more than half empty. The queue lasts about twenty minutes: before going up to the grandstands, there is a stop in the toilet. The toilets are gender-neutral: I think it is the most logical thing, since you go in one at a time anyway, but it seems strange to queue together with women.

 

In addition to the local fans, including one with a cockerel on his hat, I saw Spaniards, including two (males) in tutus, Slovenians, Slovaks, a group of German-speaking Italians (the Italian in the race is Stephanie Horn from South Tyrol) and even two in Argentine rugby uniforms (there are no Argentines in the race). On the stands, however, after the French, the flags that will be seen most will be the German ones and the yellow and green of Australia will also be seen a lot (the favourite, Jessica Fox, is Australian).

 anche il giallo e il verde dell'Australia (la favorita, Jessica Fox, è australiana).

Climbing into the grandstand, I discover that my row is the last. My seat is the only one free, but in other sectors, more towards the finish, there will be empty spaces. I have a nice surprise: I can see the whole course! I was expecting something similar to an alpine skiing or luge race, where you only see a small part of the race live. Next to me is a group of Australians: among them is an elderly gentleman who speaks Italian, who in the break tells me about his experience at the opening ceremony: 2,700 euro to see very little, since the show that was supposed to take place in his area was cancelled due to bad weather, and a mobile phone to throw away, ruined by the rain. On the other side, in the next sector, another group of Australians, including one with an inflatable kangaroo.

 

They start: the first, a Canadian, is immediately seen to be struggling a lot. The second, a Japanese, can be seen to be doing better, but I didn't think so much:13 seconds. The third and the fourth, respectively a Chinese and an Algerian, improve again: compared to those who had preceded them, they seemed so good, but even theirs are modest results, which will not be enough to enter the finals (they qualify in 12 out of 22). Especially at the beginning, I find it hard to understand how the competitors are doing: only after a while do I realise that there are three intermediate times (at the beginning I thought there was only one), but one either watches the race or looks at the time, I don't know if there was a single run where I saw all three. Instead, I realise quite often that I am in front of one of the decisive passages: two almost parallel gates, one of which is uphill. To prepare for the second one, they all pass the first one backwards: the difficult thing is just not to go too far down so as not to have to go too much uphill. In the second run, one will miss the door just in front of me and I won't notice, even though I had seen that she had problems.

 Gradually you get to the strongest. When the New Zealander comes down, you can see a few flags of that country, but above all she benefits from the cheers of the Australians, who will also support a lottle bit the Briton, who will take the lead. The German arrives and seems to be in another category: in the first half she seems to have another, easier route. In the final she takes a penalty (2 seconds), but finishes in the lead anyway. To find another athlete with a penalty in the ranking, one has to go down to eighth place. Horn defends herself and finishes third: there are still six to go, so I don't think she will finish among the leaders.Instead, many after her make mistakes: even Fox starts off slowly, but then she also takes a penalty and finishes eighth. Horn therefore finishes fourth: I therefore think that the medal is not impossible, even if the first two and Fox seem to be stronger.

The break between the two runs is just over an hour. Since the place is very high up and then I would have to climb back up, I wonder for a moment if it is necessary to go down, but the answer is yes, because I really must get a drink. It is really hot, the contrast with yesterday is enormous: good thing I have my hat and sunscreen. Very few stay in the stands, almost everyone goes to the kiosks, so much so that the interval is almost all spent there. However, I return with about ten minutes to spare, just enough time to hear my neighbour's account of the opening ceremony.

They start off again: of the first four no one makes a great race, one even misses a gate. Fox arrives, however, and it's a different story: halfway through the race she already has a 3” lead, finishes more than 5” ahead of the second and is more than 3” better than the best of the first run. Every gate is greeted with a roar; you won't hear a cheer like that for the Frenchwoman either. Even those after her do nothing exceptional, they all stay above 100 seconds (in the first run three had gone under). It is Horn's turn: she gets off to a good start, at the halfway point she is just over a second and a half behind the Australian. She is on her way to go under 100 seconds, I think if she makes it she can dream of a medal, but in the last few gates she struggles, looks tired and finishes third, over 101 seconds. The medal is now impossible: there are three of them left and they can't all fail. In fact, the Briton who goes down immediately afterwards comes in second.

 

It's the Polish girl's turn, which frightens my Australian neighbour a little (not the elderly gentleman, a boy), who says he can sing the Polish anthem just in case, he knows the words. In the end, however, it remains more than a second away. Only the German is left: halfway through the race she is behind and you can see that it will be difficult for her, but in the second half you can see her hit a gate. Already a two-second penalty would have marked the end of her hopes, but the seconds are 50: the gate is missed. She thus finishes 11th, ahead of only the other who had missed a gate, and Horn is 5th. Fourth place may have been within her grasp, but the top three were too far away.

Like most spectators, I leave right after the end, not stopping for the mini-victory ceremony(which can't even be called a flower ceremony, as they don't give flowers). The exit is very orderly: the stewards indicate the directions for the two shuttles (there is also one for another station), on my side the queue is long, you have to make a serpentine, but there are plenty of shuttles available and it is quickly disposed of. I have taken many shuttles for sporting events, and I don't think I have ever seen one so well organised.

 Today I had the illusion for a moment about an Italian medal (I saw the gold at dinner, in a kebab opposite the hotel), tomorrow I have some more hope of seeing it, in archery