Page 1 of Let the Games Begin
London, UKSummer 2024
1Zeke
FOUR DAYS BEFORE THE OPENING CEREMONY
Ezekiel Moyo had never looked more handsome than he did on the front cover of the August edition ofGQ. It was their annual sports issue and since Ezekiel (or Zeke as everyone called him) was Great Britain’s surest hope for a gold medal at this summer’s Olympics, it was only right for him to be the face of the magazine.
Zeke had spent the whole photo shoot charming everyone on set. He’d chatted to the hairstylist about his Saturday job at a salon and complimented the caterer on how good the food she’d cooked was. “Auntie,” he’d begun—because he’d been raised to call every older Black woman Auntie—“this is the best oxtail stew I’ve ever had, and my mum makes an incredible oxtail stew.” She’d chuckled and given him another portion. Zeke’s precompetition diet hadn’t allowed him to eat it, but if there was one thing he’d been taught growing up it was that if an auntie gave him a lunch box, he had to take it home.
Zeke had gone back and forth with the security guards about that weekend’s football match before spotting a group of assistantsshyly trying to catch glimpses of him from the other side of the room. He’d known they were too professional to ask for a photo, even though they’d so clearly wanted to. So, at the end of the shoot, he’d walked over to them with his outrageously charming smile and said, “This is my first big photo shoot and I’m trying to find a way to remember it all—can I get a picture with you guys?” Their faces had lit up in delight.
The security guards went on to tell everyone they met that he was “the most down-to-earth lad that had ever walked onto the set of aGQphoto shoot.” And one of the production assistants posted the photos they’d taken with the caption: “This is now an Ezekiel Moyo stan account.”
“And are you looking forward to seeing anyone in particular at this year’s Games?” the journalist conducting the cover shoot interview had asked him with a slightly raised eyebrow. Zeke had smiled; he’d known exactly where the journalist was trying to go. But he’d had no intention of following.
“I think I’m just really excited to cheer on all my friends in Team GB,” he’d said.
“And outside of Team GB, is there anyone else you’re looking forward to seeing?” the journalist had said, leaning forward, as if getting closer to Zeke would make him more likely to open up. If anything, it had made him more determined to stay closed off. “Someone from… the other side of the pond perhaps?” he’d added. Zeke had tilted his head to the side as if he had no idea what the journalist was alluding to.
He’d been trying to ask Zeke the same question in different ways all day. But Zeke could spot a trap from a mile away.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about. Shall we move on?”he’d said with polite but firm finality. Zeke had started running for Team GB when he was fourteen, done his first big press interview when he was sixteen, and had his first relationship that garnered public attention when he was twenty-one. So he’d spent years practicing how to share enough to make for a good story while deflecting enough to avoid conversations he didn’t want to have. He’d peppered his answers with funny anecdotes and used his charm to disguise the fact that he approached interviews with the tact of a veteran politician.
And it had worked.
GQSUMMER 2024
Meet Zeke Moyo: Team GB’s (Almost) Golden Boy
Zeke winced a little at the title. The last thing he needed was another headline reminding him how close he was to winning gold this summer. He was already under enough pressure. But he continued reading anyway.
The thing is, Ezekiel “Zeke” Moyo was always going to become a star. He was born for it. He chose sprinting and has the Olympic silver medal to prove it. But with his natural charisma, easy smile, and effortless, disarming charm, he could have become anything he wanted to.
Zeke could have played the leading man in a Hollywood film and packed the cinemas or modeled for a designer fashion label and had the whole collection sell out overnight. Because Zeke has that rare combination of star power and humanity. He’s the boy you had a crush on at school, thebreathtaking stranger you fell for at a party. We overuse the terms “It Girl” and “It Boy,” but as soon as I met Moyo, I knew he had that elusive “It” so many aspiring stars spend years trying to acquire.
The front cover ofGQshowed exactly what the journalist was talking about.
They’d taken the photos for the cover at the West London athletics track where Zeke had grown up training. Instead of his Team GB uniform, he was wearing a sleek blue athleisure set custom designed by Zeus Athletics, his biggest sponsor. He was standing on the running track he’d been practicing at since he was eleven and holding his very first pair of running shoes. But nobody who picked up the magazine was looking at the running shoes or thinking about his success story. They were all transfixed by Zeke, who was giving the camera, or the photographer, or anyone who picked up the magazine, the kind of effortlessly charming eye contact, smile, and subtle lip bite that made them feel like the only person in the world. Whatever “It” was, Zeke had it.
“It” opened doors—and eight-figure sponsorship deals—but the people he loved didn’t care about photo shoots, accolades, or the fact that this could be the summer he won his first Olympic gold medal. In fact, it was his family who teased him most relentlessly.
“Not the pout!” said Zeke’s oldest brother, Takunda, before passing the magazine over to his other older brother, Masimba, who took one look at the magazine cover and began to chuckle.
“He’s giving fashion… couture… male model,” said Masimba, laughing.
“Are you seeing these poses?” Takunda said as he imitated Zeke. Masimba joined in, and the two of them began a photo shoot in the canned-food aisle. They loved embarrassing him.
“We’re just trying to be like you, Little Z,” said Masimba as he leaned against the tinned veg shelf. He was thirty, but reverted to age thirteen as Takunda took photos of him and shouted out exaggerated comments to hype him up.
The rest of the world saw Zeke as an Olympic medalist and heartthrob. But they just saw him as their younger brother.
“Mum is going to cry when she sees this,” Masimba said as they got into Zeke’s black Ferrari and drove down the road that would lead them home. Zeke smiled and nodded because he knew his mumwouldcry when she saw the magazine cover. They were a tight-knit family, and Mai Moyo, the matriarch of the Moyo family, cried at almost everything her sons did. The magazine cover, which symbolized her youngest son going off to his third Olympics, was sure to make her weep.
Zeke had tried to convince his mum to let him buy her a new house when he’d signed his first seven-figure deal, but she’d refused, saying she wanted to live in the house she’d raised her family in. But he knew the real reason was that the house, with its framed photos and peeling paint, held all of her favorite memories of her husband, Zeke’s dad, who’d passed away ten years ago when Zeke was only fourteen. All of his favorite memories of his dad had been made in that house too, so instead of buying her a new house in a shinier part of the city, Zeke and his brothers went home for dinner every Sunday night.
But this Sunday, he knew something was off as soon as he opened the front door. His mum usually blasted old Zimbabweangospel music as she cooked something delicious, and definitely not Team GB dietitian–approved, for dinner. But as he walked in and called out a hello, the house was silent. Something wasn’t right. He took another step inside and then, all of a sudden, the room burst with sound, colors, and people shouting, “Surprise!”
The crowd of family members who’d been hiding in the corridor and spilling out into the garden threw blue, white, and red balloons at him and shouted in excitement. All of Zeke’s family and friends were congregated in his mum’s living room to celebrate him before he flew out to Athens for the 2024 Olympics. He felt a wash of joy come over him; everyone he loved was right there. Well, everyone except his dad.
