Today’s the day: Max Maeder versus the world
MARSEILLE – Today’s the day. Today, Aug 8, is Max Maeder versus the world day.
Today is medal day. He may win one or he may not. Sport, like the wind in Marseille, is a creature of uncommon whimsy.
Today is the (scheduled) final day of kitefoiling at the Paris Olympics and it’s a thrill. It is a day, first, to give thanks to Max Maeder for letting us be part of a rare moment. His talent is allowing us to feel something. To not just be a distant spectator in these vast, hectic Games but also be involved at a high level.
Today’s a day of tension and isn’t that what we wish? Can he? Will he? However it ends, in a leap from a chair for us or a slump into a sofa, he’s taken us to that place of chewed nails. In a way it doesn’t matter where he finishes because it’s just extraordinary to be here. He earned this chance. For himself and you and me.
But, of course, to Max, the world champion and arch competitor, it matters where he finishes. His father, Valentin, tells a story about his son, only four years old, coming home brooding after he didn’t win one of his ski races. “Next morning,” says Valentin, “he was the first one out.”
And so today Max is here for the representing, the participating, the joy, the experience, the adventure but he is also here to win.
Today’s the end of a wait, the culmination of more persistence from a teenager that we can imagine. He has taken his promise and dipped it in labour, risk, analytics and devotion. It’s the day which decides who he is but only as an athlete. Not anything more.
Today is the day to admire him, even before he competes. What ambition it took for him to be part of this grand reckoning. To arrive at the cusp of this rarefied place where, as legendary swimmer Michael Phelps put it, “only one per cent of the one per cent” go. This place which outsiders – you, me – talk about, judge, presume about, inexpertly give opinion on, but will never go to.
Today’s the day of vomit. Of prayer in multiple languages. Of running to the toilet (just ask shooters). Imagine, Max is only 17 at his first Games. Imagine the nerves. Imagine how he finds calm while being so utterly close to the podium.
Today is a day of preparation and also chance. His father was a glider pilot, so as a family they know the vagaries of nature. But today, even from 10,580km away, the distance he is from home, I hope he hears Singapore in some form. In Paris, French athletes have ridden the wild emotion of crowds, have felt a sense of togetherness, have taken strength from the faith of the hollering.
And so I hope Singaporeans have tweeted, Instagrammed, Tik-Tokked, sent messages to Max, and have voiced their respect and support. Or will take out some minutes of their day today to watch him even if it’s a sport we don’t fully understand. Nations cannot just want medals, or dream of them, they must participate and share in this adventure. Out there on the water, where he competes in a red helmet, it’s lonely, remember.
Today is a proud day to be a parent and also a hard one. Hwee Keng and Valentin can only watch, not help. Nations love to wear victory and they arrive to watch finals, but sporting parents are there every day.
They show their children the world, trust in their talent, agree to home school and tend to their bruises. Here, in the best case and certainly in Max’s case, love is found irrespective of place or finish. If you’ve been watching the Olympics, when medals are won, or lost this is where athletes want to run. Into the arms of family and safety.
Today is the day we remember how difficult it is to win a medal. Just in Paris there are 329 events but 10,500 athletes. And in all its history Singapore has collected five medals: one gold, two silvers, two bronzes. And so any addition, of any colour, will be profound.
Today is challenge. Today is hope. Today we say simply to the boy with the kite. Fly, Max, fly.
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