Green Bananas, Yamand Goat’s Milk
Ruskin Ramsundar - Publisher/Creative Director

Ever so often I retire to my basement where there is this tiny room that I have prepared, complete with a pitch-oil lamp, a colourful roped hammock I got from my last visit to Caracas, two bottles of El Dorado rum (the best in the world) I bought from the nearby liquor store and a draught (checkers) board I brought with me from Trinidad, for emergency situations such as a terrorism, hugemongous red ants invading my backyard, West Indies climbing back on top as the cricketing world champions and lighting bolt striking.

Not too long ago I emerged after spending a couple of months mentally recovering from watching the West Indies cricket team (I was a die-hard fan) being humiliatingly self-destruct with petty on-going verbal battles without any regard for what was once the only unifying fabric of Caribbean culture.

I harboured the thought of again entering my dungeon of doom after watching the Caribana parade (which I thought was very disorganized) and reflecting in my dizzy head the idea of how a billion dollar brand (Caribana) remains stagnant and comatose, unable to shake off the shackles of maladministration, distrust and downright foolishness. But then I remembered that the world’s fastest man, Jamaica’s Usain Bolt was scheduled to trade his spikes against the likes of America’s Tyrone Gay and others in the World Championship 100m. the marquee event of the meeting on Sunday last. No way was I going to miss this guy’s athletic prowess, not to mention his “Colgate smile” and showboating, I blurted out, El Dorado or no El Dorado Sunday came and then in a jiffy, he conquered.

Usain Bolt, “a dat ah mean”. Smashing the world record he previously held, Bolt stopped the clock in 9.58 seconds a time unheard of and certainly not expected by any human, not now, not ever. What was drowning the American media though was not the genuine raves about a running phenomenon but the thunderous buzzing of steroid use.

Now most would be very cautious not to gush too much as many previous sprinters have been doused by steroids use. But suppose Bolt is clean (and I have no reason to doubt the man. After-all, ramming down green bananas, yam, cassava and goat’s milk each day as opposed to fries, potato chip and powdered Pepsi must put you on a “high” sometime), we might be witnessing a freak of nature, definitely not a test-tube baby. As he has reconfirmed himself Sunday as the fastest human who ever lived, lowering his 100-meter record to a blinding 9.58 seconds, should one suggest something else, like racing manos a manos with the new Acela train?

According to one writer, “What's beautiful about Bolt is that he isn't just faster than an X-15. He's also an entertainment fireball, capable of making us giggle before and after he spends 9 1/2 seconds dropping our jawbones. Did you catch how he struck his signature lightning-bolt pose (what else?) before the race, then used face and hand expressions that suggested an aircraft was taking off? That's charisma, the warm-up act to the greatest show in track and field, if not all sport”.

At 6-foot-5, Bolt owns some of the longest strides ever known to sprinting and, somehow, doesn't let his size slow him out of the blocks. Once in the clear, he is to track what Woods no longer is to golf: invincible. Even while the American, Tyson Gay, was running the fastest 100 in this country's history, his time of 9.71 was molasses stuff compared to Bolt, who accelerated at 70 meters, took a clear lead and had the gumption to take a peak at Gay and the digital clock as he crossed the finish line.

"When I got to the 50," Bolt said, "I knew it was going to be hard for anyone to get past me." Realizing he had blown away the record he set at last summer's Beijing Olympics, the showman took over. He slapped his chest and kept running, his way of celebrating his place as the indomitable sprinter in the very stadium where Jesse Owens humiliated Adolf Hitler and won four gold medals in the 1936 Olympics.

You don't have to be a track aficianado to understand how ridiculous it is: 100 meters in 9.58 seconds. Hell, most healthy people in this world can't get off the couch in 9.58 seconds. As he continues to shatter records, the mind-boggling reality will kick in that Bolt is only 22. Remember though, three sprinters who ran 100 meters under 9.8 seconds -- Ben Johnson, Tim Montgomery and Justin Gatlin -- shamed themselves with steroids trouble. Johnson, you'll recall, beat Carl Lewis at the 1988 Olympics in the most hyped sprint race ever, only to test positive and become too good to be true.

When Bolt follows by dropping his 100 record another 11/100ths of a second, from 9.69 in Beijing to his weekend 9.58, it only drives naysayers that he's receiving artificial help. Truthfully though, I believe it had more to do with not clowning in the final meters of the race, as he did in China. Still, on Sunday, Bolt took a glance to his right at the end. If he ever runs an entire 100 while looking straight ahead, who knows what the time will be? "I can have all the fun I want before the race," he said. "When the starter says, 'On your mark,' I re-focus, and then it's time to go. I know what I have to do, so there's no worries." Also, is it possible Uncle Sam and his people are just, um, jealous?

When you're venturing to places where no man has gone, when you're pushing the human body to unprecedented speeds, fun is the prevailing sensation for everyone involved. As long as Bolt put ‘im ‘and in ah de air and soon come again I’ll take a while to surrender to the basement coop again.