Advertisement

Carnett: Chinese competition challenges Western viewer

Share

It seems antithetical to all things American.

This summer, I watched the IAAF World Track and Field Championships broadcast over a nine-day span from Beijing. The competition was spectacular.

But one event troubled me: the women’s 20-kilometer race walk.

The ungainly, walk-very-fast-but-don’t-actually run event featured China’s Liu Hong defeating teammate Lu Ziuzhi by a mere 18 inches. It was so close, in fact, that they were credited with the same official time, 1 hour, 27 minutes, 45 seconds.

I watched the entire race. That’s 1:27.45 of my life I’ll never get back.

It became obvious to me by the end that there’d been some serious hints of collusion.

As one Associated Press sportswriter described it in his account: at the conclusion, the two competitors “fell into each other’s arms and soaked up the adoration of the crowd.”

Advertisement

For most of the 90-minute spectacle, the two racers walked together, shoulder to shoulder. On several occasions one would surge ahead of the other to pick up the pace.

The third-place contestant was always dozens of meters behind.

At the start of the race, Liu and Lu went to the front of the pack. They never faltered and worked together the entire race. Beautiful teamwork.

But they were seen chatting during the final several hundred meters.

“They’re actually talking to one another,” commented an incredulous American broadcaster. “I can’t believe it. They’re having a conversation!”

Label me a cynic, but I suspect the conversation had something to do with confirming the order of finish. No messy, unscripted misadventures here.

Liu then took the lead and was first to the tape. Lu walked at a comfortable pace, just a step behind, and never made the slightest attempt to accelerate or overtake her teammate. She finished second.

Had that been me and, say, my brother Bill in those positions in the race, our down-the-stretch conversation might have gone something like this:

Me: Man, it’s hotter than blue blazes out here.

Bill: It’s summer. “Sweltering” in Mandarin, I believe, is spelled B-e-i-j-i-n-g.

Me: OK, we’ve been pulling each other along in this goofy race for 19 and nine-tenths kilometers. We’re where we are because we’ve worked together.

Bill: I’ve got your back, Big Brother.

Me: But my thighs are shouting at me.

Bill: I prefer to call them quads, thank you very much!

Me: Whatever. I have cramps where I didn’t know I had muscles. We’ve got a hundred meters to go. Let’s see who’s got the heart to win this thing. One of us will get the gold, and the other silver.

Bill: Yeehaw!

And off we’d go. I’d be fine with that, win or lose. Let’s earn our respective medals. We’ve beaten the field, now it’s mano-a-mano.

But, to endure the entire awkward and painful process, and then not finish it off?

Well, that, to me, is ludicrous.

Poor Miss Lu -– and I don’t know what pressure, if any, she might have been under before the race — seemed to accept her fated second-place finish with equanimity.

But both earned the right to a final sprint for all the marbles. Both deserved to resolve the issue on the track — and not according to some pre-written libretto.

From the way it looked on my home screen, over the final 100 meters, Lu could have accelerated, zipped around a downshifting Liu, and maybe made it first to the tape. But we’ll never know.

And Miss Lu can never get that race back. It’s gone forever.

She had a 40/60 (I’m guessing) chance at being the world champion of the women’s 20-kilometer walk. She gave it her all for 19 kilometers, 900 meters, and then coasted. Coasted.

Being awarded the same finishing time as the winner is of little consolation. She still placed second.

I believe you could have done it, Miss Lu. But, when it counted you didn’t seem to try. Were I you, I’d have sped around Miss Liu’s shapely quads at the last instant and tried to snag the victory!

But, I’m a testosterone-fueled, ego-driven, competitive, results-oriented American.

And maybe we see things differently.

JIM CARNETT, who lives in Costa Mesa, worked for Orange Coast College for 37 years.

Advertisement