Sunday
If you really want to see Paris at its best, I suggest getting up before dawn to head to Pont Alexandre III for triathlons that don’t exist. Pollution concerns had forced all races to be postponed for 24 hours. The decision, however, was made at 3.30am and communicated via the media channels of World Triathlon, to which I am unfortunately not subscribed. Still, alongside a few other bemused punters, I got to see the heart of picture-postcard Paris as the sun came up and walked the length of the Champs Élysées practically alone. Not bad.
Monday
Valentina Petrillo, the Italian transgender sprinter, generated a lot of controversy but ultimately posted some mediocre times in the women’s T12 400m, failing to make the final. All the coverage (and I was part of it) meant less space for the true phenomenon of the event, Cuba’s Omara Durand. She won gold in the 400m, dominated the 100m later in the week too, and makes sprinting without the use of your eyes look effortless. She also conveys this remarkable sense of human power, sometimes seemingly dragging her male guide runner by the tether that holds them together. A giant of Paralympic sport.
Tuesday
To the Eiffel Tower, where I watched Brazil’s blind football team draw 0-0 with China, maintaining their 20-year unbeaten record by the skin of their teeth (it turned out to be a harbinger and the Seleçao were beaten by Argentina in the semis). There was magic in the air that night, in the stadium and beyond. With the busy roads closed off and the Champs-de-Mars area dotted with peaceful gardens, it has become a place people gravitate towards, just to hang out. They soak up the vibe, they ogle the lights on the tower; on a warm evening it is something special. A reminder too that the power of the Games extends beyond the sport and the athletes who compete.
Wednesday
Sarah Storey made it look easy in winning the women’s C5 time trial and was annoyed she didn’t get to test herself further due to her event running only half the length of some others due to scheduling. That’s Storey, always demanding more, and part of what has made her such a phenomenal champion (nine Games down and likely 10, as she hasn’t ruled out LA yet). The citizens of Clichy-sous-Bois were able to watch the British legend in action, a rare moment of inclusion for this Parisian suburb. For a long time one of the most deprived areas in the country, and the site of unrest that sparked national riots in 2005, the modest crowds that lined the streets were made up of people different from those who have been inside the venues in the centre of Paris. It felt like a good move by the organisers and consistent with Paralympic principles.
Thursday
Brat summer was officially declared over by the pop star Charli xcx this week, but nobody appears to have told Parisian schoolchildren. Actually of the age to be brattish, they turned up in their hordes to the sitting volleyball in the (very) north of Paris and didn’t stop making a racket for the entire proceedings. Whether shouting, cheering or simply gooning when appearing on the big screen (which overlaid fun animations on to their features) they appeared to be having the time of their lives. Loudest of all were the collection of kids wearing T-shirts in Pantone 375C, AKA Brat Green.
after newsletter promotion
Friday
Three years ago in Tokyo, I stood at the bottom of a stairwell at the Ariake Arena and watched as the British wheelchair tennis stars Alfie Hewett and Gordon Reid tried, and failed, to hold back the tears. They had lost in the final of the men’s doubles, but the devastation was greater and caused by the imminent break-up of their partnership. Hewett had been declassified, his Perthes disease apparently not serious enough to allow him to compete in a disability sport. This adjudication was overturned a few months later and here at Roland Garros they finally got the gold they so desperately wanted, and deserved. I have never felt so emotionally involved in any athletes’ success before (OK, outside Norwich City’s various efforts to avoid relegation) and I couldn’t help but tell them how pleased I was. A setback for journalistic objectivity, but what the heck.
Saturday
Dressed in a more sober tone of green are the volunteers of the Paris Games, occasionally billed as “the green machine”. It’s almost commonplace to observe how great volunteers are at major sporting events, how they give up so much of their time and are so conscientious at what they do (and all for no money). The Paris crew, made up of people from all over the world, are no exception, but they make a further contribution which I had not anticipated and have very much benefited from: the simple fact of saying “Bonjour” to everyone who passes them. It’s a small thing but it has made me happier each day, especially when I’ve been flagging in energy. Perhaps this is what it feels like to live in northern England …