On track and field, nothing thrills like speed

The rain pelts down with violence. At the edge of the track, high jumpers in Tokyo huddle under covers. Rhythm is broken, the run-up is slippery. Outdoor sport wreaks its own testing vengeance. But Nicola Olyslagers is still smiling because she’s not alone. “I was just spending time with Jesus out there,” she said later.

- Rohit Brijnath Assistant Sports Editor

Irrespective of your views on religion, I hope you saw Olyslagers at the World Athletics Championships. Everyone’s so tight with tension in sport, but her smile is like a raft of sunlight bursting through a window. The rain stops and she arrives at the bar like a bounding giraffe. “I’ve got speed that I’ve never trained for,” said the world champion. Her faith gives her wings.

Velocity underpins so much of modern victory. Carlos Alcaraz is lightning with a bad haircut. The All Blacks’ Leroy Carter accelerates with the growl of a Ferrari. Erling Haaland brings to mind a large, lit rocket.

Yet no one does pure, unadulterated speed like track and field people. Long jumpers mutter, lean back and accelerate as if burning rubber. Hammer throwers whirl like spun tops. After 4,800 hard metres of the men’s 5,000m, Cole Hocker finds a finishing kick that is devastating. His last 200m, writes letsrun.com, takes 25.50 seconds (the Singapore men’s national record is 20.89sec) and his final 100m is 12.49. His response at victory is classic: he flexes his muscles. Speed is strength.