Paralympics

Earlier in the week, my beloved and I went to the Paralympics.  The athletics (track and field) appeared sold out: not an empty seat in sight.  One of the coolest things was the noise from the crowd doing laps around the stadium along with Dean Miller from Team GB as he ran the 1500m - T37.  Earlier, Mickey Bushell won gold for Team GB in the 100m - T53, which was great because the stadium erupted.  Later in the evening, we were also treated to Raymond Martin's US gold in the 400m - T52.  The only wish unfulfilled was a Portugal gold as well.  

In fact, no Portuguese athletes competed in the stadium that evening, which would have been a huge disappointment had I not accidentally happened upon a group of them whilst wondering through Olympic Park.  The meeting was remarkably similar to the time I met Dave Sharp in a music festival crowd in the 80s.  The Alarm had finish their set an hour earlier. I was enjoying another, I looked up and there was Dave Sharp.  My hand immediately darted into the air and shouted, 'Dave!'  As he looked to me, his expression changed from 'Oh, who's that?' to 'Oh my god, how do I make an inconspicuous exit'.  He gave a quick wave and continued his journey.  The only differences were: the darting hand became a pumped fist, 'Dave!' became 'Portugal!', and one person giving me that look became six.  

Apparently, when meeting heroes for the first time, I am cursed with an involuntary upward thrusting of my right arm that limits any utterance to a single word.  The only consolation is that 30 years later, I actually managed to meet Dave Sharp again.  Thankfully, I managed to keep my right arm pointed earthward whilst stringing together a few sentences.  Judging by the look on his face, the sentences might have actually been coherent.  Apparently, the classic single-utterance right-arm thrust is not the best conversation starter.  But I am holding onto the hope of running into one of the athletes 30 years from now so that I can redeem myself.