Page 65 of Let the Games Begin
“Well, nothing can top the volunteer bar opening ceremony watch party,” she began, recalling the day she’d first met Arlo. “But do you want to go to thesecond-bestwatch party in town?” she asked, as she took two VIP tickets out of her pocket.
An hour later they were outside the gates to the stadium. At long last, it was the day of Zeke’s 100m final.
53Zeke
DAY THIRTEEN OF THE 2024 OLYMPICS
Most athletes had good luck charms. Things they carried into the changing room before every competition that made them feel at ease when the whistle blew. For Haruki, that was an old hoodie he’d worn the day he won his first gold medal. And a lot of athletes were superstitious about the things they would and wouldn’t say in the lead-up to a competition. Valentina never said the words “win” or “medal” the day before a competition and always recited the serenity prayer before she walked out into the arena. In fact, almost all of the athletes in the Village had tried-and-tested game-day routines that started as soon as they woke up on the morning of a big event.
Zeke had spent years perfecting his. He woke early in the morning and started his day with a jog around the perimeter of the Village. Then he took a long shower and grabbed his notebook to write down everything he was worried about, so as to avoid carrying it out into the day. Then he would make time for his family.
The Moyos had landed in Athens the night before, and that morning they descended on GB House.
“Little Z, you’ve got this,” said his oldest brother, Takunda, as the three of them walked into Zeke’s room.
“Just put your whole heart into it, leave it all on the track,” said Masimba as he pulled him into a fierce bear hug. “Dad would be so proud of you.”
Zeke nodded and hoped it was true.
“All right, we have only a few minutes before that Coach Adam of yours starts trying to tell me how much time I can spend with my own son,” said Mai Moyo, who treated the coach like he was one of her troublesome nephews, despite being only ten years older than him. “My son, you make me proud every day. Kick those small boys to the ground and bring home gold, in Jesus’s name,” she said, pulling him into a tight hug before insisting that they spend the last few minutes singing one of her old favorite hymns. Then she began to pray.
“Almighty King and Savior!” she said, ready to begin the non- negotiable ten-minute-long prayer that marked the official start of each competition. Once his mum was done, he said goodbye to his family, ran downstairs to meet his teammates, and then headed over to the other side of the Village to go to the next part of his race-day ritual.
Every single year Coach Adam hosted a team breakfast. Usually, it ended up being on a random Saturday in the offseason when none of the team was competing, but in Olympic years, he always scheduled it to happen on the morning of the athletics finals. It seemed counterintuitive, and Zeke’s friends who competed for other countries always raised an eyebrow when he toldthem that their head coach got them all together for a celebration on the morning of the most important competition of their lives. But the reasoning was pretty clear. By the end of the day, all of them would have competed in their final competition of the Games. For some of them that meant the day would end in a victory, a medal ceremony, and a new personal or world record. But for others, the day would end with them finishing in last place, getting injured, or making a small mistake that had the potential to derail their entire careers. They all knew how high the stakes were, so Coach Adam threw the team breakfasts to remind them to celebrate just how far they’d come.
Coach Adam reserved a private section in the athletes’ canteen, decorated it with Union Jack flags, and covered the walls with printouts of all the pictures he’d taken of them since they’d arrived in Athens. Funk and soul blasted from the speaker. Tables were covered with healthy, colorful breakfast platters, fruit bowls, and jugs of fresh juice.
When Zeke got there, he was instantly engulfed by the excited energy in the room. The whole athletics team was there, walking around and catching up with people they hadn’t seen since the airport. Village days felt like lifetimes, and they’d all been so busy with training and competitions that breakfast was a reunion. They talked about how much of Athens they’d seen since arriving, made plans for everything they wanted to do before the closing ceremony, and spent the morning taking photos, telling stories, and eating breakfast. And they did it all without talking about their competitions. It was Coach Adam’s only rule: no field talk at the team breakfast. They were all hyperaware of what lay ahead of them, all the things they’d been working for, and all the hopesthey were running toward. But for that hour at least, it was just about being together on one of their last days of the Games.
“Okay, I know what happens in the Village stays in the Village,” said Coach Adam to a collective groan. “I know you’ve all been so focused on your competitions that you haven’t even thought about parties.” He looked over at Camille as he said this, who had thrown a hall party at the start of the week. “That you’ve all put so much of your attention into training that you haven’t had time to befriend a sheikanda crown princess.” Anwar laughed and pretended to zip his lips. “And that you’ve all been so disciplined with your routines that none of you were grounded and given a seven p.m. curfew.” Zeke looked sheepish.
“All right, team. Give it your all, be braver than you’ve ever been, and know that you’ve already achieved everything you needed to by getting here. Whatever happens in that stadium is just the icing on top. You are some of the most hardworking, determined, excellent athletes I’ve ever had the privilege to work with.”
“Oh, Coach,” said Camille with a hand on her heart.
“And the most annoying, arrogant, infuriating bunch of people I’ve ever had the displeasure to meet,” he said, making them laugh. “But I’msoproud of you. Of what you’ve achieved, what you’ve sacrificed, and, most importantly, the incredible people you’ve all become. So, drink enough water, make sure to stretch, and don’t get into too much trouble at the after-party I’m going topretendI didn’t just hear you planning.”
Everyone clapped and cheered before they all headed out to one of the most important competitions of their lives.
54Olivia
DAY THIRTEEN OF THE 2024 OLYMPICS
When she got to the stadium, Olivia became Arlo and Aditi’s designated photographer. The two of them had clicked immediately, and so Olivia spent the whole afternoon laughing. They bought overpriced shirts and merch, which Olivia justified by reminding herself she would have a full-time job by October. Arlo sourced a bunch of whistles and foam fingers from one of the audience management volunteers, so they were fully embracing the spirit of the Games. And then an usher guided them up the stairs, out into the stadium, and over to the VIP section to sit next to all of the Team GB family, friends, and officials there to support the athletics team.
Olivia was looking around in awe, taking photos of the stadium from every angle and promising herself she’d paint a few of them into postcards. But then she saw an incoming call.Oh no, she thought as she saw the caller ID. It was her mum. Olivia had been blaming her lack of video calls on time zones and how busy she was. But the truth was, besides a few reassuring textsand photos, she hadn’t spoken to her parents on the phone since her first day in the Village. She hadn’t wanted to tell them about her internship falling through. That she’d only once worn the suit they’d bought her. Or that the self-belief they’d done their best to instill in her had taken so many hits in the past two weeks that she’d started to question every aspect of who she was. But she knew it wasn’t fair to hide from them just because she felt like she’d fallen short of her own goals. So, this time, she picked up.
“Olivia!” her mum shouted, her face breaking out into a joyful grin as she popped up on the screen. Olivia felt a sharp sense of relief as she heard the warm lilt of her mother’s voice and saw the cozy, familiar background of the house she’d grown up in.
“My superstar!” said her dad, bringing his face into the frame. Well, half of his face. He wasn’t wearing his glasses, so he was holding the phone up so close that she could only really see his gray but surprisingly full head of hair. Olivia hadn’t even realized how much she’d missed them.
“Look! I’m in the stadium,” Olivia said, feeling her childlike excitement rise up the way it always did when she was with the people who’d known her for her whole life.
“I’m so proud of you, baby,” her mum said.
Olivia needed to tell her the truth. About the internship, about Lars and Noah. To ask her to stop telling their family and friends that she’d made it big, because she hadn’t—at least, not yet. Olivia didn’t want them to get their hopes up. She didn’t know if she could fulfill the dreamstheyhadn’t been able to. And she was no longer sure that she wanted to let her life be guided by the pressure to do so. But before she could explain and manage their expectations, her mum put her hand up.
“We’re always so proud of you,” she said. “Especially when you’re happy,” she added with a warm smile. “Of course, you’re ambitious and brilliant, you’re my daughter, after all”—Olivia’s dad chuckled beside her—“but sometimes I think, wow, Olivia is doing all these great things, but is she happy? Is she enjoying it? Is she truly living for herself? But now I can see that you really are.”
