There has been an avalanche of schadenfreude aimed at Noah Lyles, after he failed to secure a gold medal in the 200 metres at the Olympics. Lyles had been declaring for a year that he would do the double, with the 100 and 200 titles (and possibly the triple with the 4x100, except for his illness, and the fact that his teammates messed up the baton handover anyway in the final and were disqualified). Part of the delight is that the winner in the 200 was an African – Letsile Tebogo. Tebogo was also competing in the Olympics as a tribute to his mum, and he made sure to tell this in person or through his nails and running gear.
Lyles was soundly beaten, and the sense of epicaricacy seemed to be vindicated when he collapsed in a heap immediately after the race, saying that he was racing after being stricken with Covid. It didn’t seem a credible excuse, as there had been no hint of the illness prior to the race. Also, the overconfident, cocky manner he had bounded onto the track belied the narrative of a suffering athlete racked by coughs and a congested chest the night before the big race. No, this looked like an after-the-fact, quickly cooked-up tale to vindicate a gasbag brought to earth.
But could our malicious glee at Noah Lyles’s relative misfortunes be slightly misplaced? Yes, he has a big mouth and giant ego. But it is almost a requirement for world class sprinters to have effervescent personalities. To be a sprinter is often about being a prima donna, preening at the start line and showboating at the finish. American sprinters, especially, have to break through in what are usually minor sports that their compatriots only pay attention to every four years, with the rest of the time being taken up by basketballers, baseball players and players of (the incorrectly-named) American football.
Noah Lyles should also be due a break. After all, the content of his rants includes the very correct observation that it is bizarre for NBA title holders to bill themselves as world champions. We all agree on that (as well as that the American baseball championships should not be named the World Series).
But no, Noah Lyles catches lots of flack for a different reason. We remember Usain Bolt’s disqualification in the World Championships 100m final with fond sympathy, but I doubt even the passage of time will make that night in Paris any better for Lyles. I think that the difference between the two is that Bolt’s cockiness seemed to be surprised delight at being that good, and on the world stage no less. Usain Bolt was an everyman, from a small, cool country. Every time he beat his already stellar record, we celebrated him even more. Lyles’s swagger seems, on the other hand, of a particularly American variety, all snigger and disdain. Even the subject in which we agree with him, the jibe about the NBA, was delivered with a sneer that made him a lifelong enemy of the tall men. His bluster almost seems calculated – create a giant personality and then demand a sneaker deal to go with it. There seems to be no enjoyment or pleasure about it, only a determined effort at icon creation that looks almost industrial.
Will Noah Lyles change? Should he? Will the humbling of Thursday night make him a more introspective athlete, and one who talks on the track first before running his mouth? I don’t think so, and maybe it is unfair for us to ask him to do so. The price though, is that he will be a step short of being one of the greats. Even if he breaks one or both of Bolt’s remarkable records, I suspect it will be a bleak, joyless feat, and one that lives more in the record books more than in the memory.
(Pictures courtesy of ABC News)
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