Silence and the shadow of death

Norman Fox in Atlanta describes the mood of a Games now at half- mast

Norman Fo
Saturday 27 July 1996 18:02 EDT
Comments

Your support helps us to tell the story

From reproductive rights to climate change to Big Tech, The Independent is on the ground when the story is developing. Whether it's investigating the financials of Elon Musk's pro-Trump PAC or producing our latest documentary, 'The A Word', which shines a light on the American women fighting for reproductive rights, we know how important it is to parse out the facts from the messaging.

At such a critical moment in US history, we need reporters on the ground. Your donation allows us to keep sending journalists to speak to both sides of the story.

The Independent is trusted by Americans across the entire political spectrum. And unlike many other quality news outlets, we choose not to lock Americans out of our reporting and analysis with paywalls. We believe quality journalism should be available to everyone, paid for by those who can afford it.

Your support makes all the difference.

The Olympic flame continued to burn defiantly in the main stadium here yesterday but across the arena the Olympic flag hung both at half mast and limp as if in despair for another Games savaged by brutality in its chosen city.

The security staff who the day before had repeated their "Have a nice day" ad nauseam were yesterday quick to snarl at anyone who complained about being searched a second or third time. "Have a nice day" turned to "Today's a different day...Sir", as someone asked, naively: "Why the hold-up this morning?"

Different in many ways. On the opening morning on Friday there had been 70,000 cheering on the American sprinters, revelling in Michael Johnson's magnificence and living out the Atlantan dream of bringing the greatest athletes in the world to their own stadium. Now, though, the rain began falling a few minutes before the beginning of what little action there was in the stadium to divert attention away from events in the city.

A minute's silence for the victims of the bombing in Centennial Park was observed at all venues. Woody Johnson, of the FBI, said: "The saddest thing is that we have worked so long to get the security right at all of the venues and as much as we are able to do outside. But you cannot legislate for random terrorism. The security at the Olympic Stadium has been tightened even more, so we are warning people to take extra time to get there." Certainly his advice was heeded as crowds began to turn up at breakfast time for a morning of far from engrossing athletics.

The element of "the show goes on" was what everyone expected yet as the heptathletes came into the stadium, the atmosphere was at once defiant, as "Chariots of Fire" rang out, and yet far from excited. Of course, the heptathlon is hardly a major spectator event, but draws its enthusiasts and, here, had offered a lot of people an opportunity simply to be in the stadium. Individually, those spectators were reacting to the deaths the previous night in diverse ways. Two young girls sitting side by side expressed it all. Seen on the big screen, one was frowning, reading a newspaper that had just two words across the front page: "Park Explosion".

After a long, seemingly unnecessary preamble in which the International Amateur Athletic Federation was thanked for organising the athletics, the minute's silence was scrupulously observed. There were thousands of empty seats but also many thousands more people waiting to fill them still outside having bags and themselves searched while they shuffled forward in rain that turned from drizzle to a torrent.

Denise Lewis was the first Briton to perform in the stadium and after running the 100m hurdles event of the heptathlon said: "The bombing is so upsetting, so disturbing, but I'm more concerned for the people at home who are worried about what's happened here."

Local television crews were criticised by the British physiotherapist, Kevin Lidlow, who said they had become intrusive and should not talk about the bombing in the middle of Lewis's competition.

The British cyclist Chris Boardman said: "The bombing shocked a lot of us in the Village and obviously it's the only thing people are talking about right now. You can see and feel that security is on red alert now and that makes us feel safe and secure all the time we are in the Village."

As the rain got even heavier, the crowd heard that an already thin morning's programme had been further weakened by the cancelling of the men's 800 metres heats through lack of entries. That left only the heptathlon and women's 400m. "They've got to be kidding us - we need some cheering up, not to sit here in the rain with nothing to watch," said George Davies, a local track and field enthusiast who arrived an hour after the start in spite of getting to the first security gate soon after it opened at 8am.

A stadium official said they had considered opening the gates earlier because of the extra security but decided against. The result was that hundreds of spectators did not get into the stadium until after 10.30 but in any case the heptathlon was delayed because of a flood on the high- jump run-up. One of the musical items that was supposed to entertain the crowd was "A Hard Day's Night". Apt for the Olympic dream.

Join our commenting forum

Join thought-provoking conversations, follow other Independent readers and see their replies

Comments

Thank you for registering

Please refresh the page or navigate to another page on the site to be automatically logged inPlease refresh your browser to be logged in