Fish out of water slipped into our consciousness
Sydney Morning Herald
Thursday December 24, 2009
Over the Christmas period, our journalists will look back at their favourite sporting memories of the Noughties. Today, Glenn Jackson relives the moment Eric the Eel made a big splash at the 2000 Olympics. I did not see my favourite sporting moment of the Noughties live. I did not even watch it on TV live. (Note to ed, if this disqualifies me from this series of articles, go take a flying leap). A leap, perhaps, akin to the one a student from a small country in Africa took in the 2000 Olympics.And while it is exaggerating the feat slightly to say Eric Moussambani was flying then or after, the impression he left lasted far longer than the wake of that first dive into a 50-metre pool, or the splashing and thrashing that followed.In truth, not many people did see his event live. About 17,500 watched him swim at the aquatic centre, and the rest were watching Channel Seven. But people around the planet tuned in again and again to watch the swimmer who later became Eric the Eel gulp and gasp his way to fame.Almost 10 years on, he still somehow resonates. Roy and HG's call of his swim has had nearly 1 million views on YouTube (more than seven times the hits for video of Cathy Freeman's momentous win in the same Games; although this story is certainly not designed to play down that stirring 49.11 secs).All after a sporting performance which was neither higher, stronger nor faster than many of us could have managed. Yet Eric seemed to hit a nerve. Maybe it was because the amazing feats of so many sportsmen and women appear out of reach to so many of us, because they are just so damn good.On the contrary, the only thing that appeared out of reach in the 1 min 52.72 it took for Moussambani to finish his 100m freestyle event (it was more than 40 seconds outside his alleged qualifying time; he admitted later he had never swum the distance) was the wall, as he closed in on the finish so slowly he wouldn't have triggered a house alarm sensor.What seemed to grab people most was the fact that he was merely human, not superhuman. Moussambani didn't come to Sydney with endorsements or high-tech swimsuits (he might just have been the only swimmer who would not have been able to improve his times using one of the full-body polyurethane suits swimming has recently given us). In fact, he didn't even come with any swimsuits. The royal blue swimmers he wore were purchased at Paul's Warehouse on Parramatta Road not long before he swam (he was going to swim in his underwear).I'd also like to think he was no rock star as a result of the fame either; the only glasses he wears indoors are attached to his head using a rubber strap (as an aside, the goggles he wore in Sydney were also purchased from Paul's, and later sold on eBay for charity for $4642).He now lives back in his home country of Equatorial Guinea. The Herald tracked him down for this story, now retired from swimming and working as an IT technician.He still swims for fun. His story was, and still is, remarkable, even to him. There was no 50-metre pool in his country, only a 20-metre one, in a hotel. At his national competition, he was the only person to enter the event. "Nobody else wanted to participate," Moussambani says now.He was also the only competitor to swim in his heat, after Karim Bare of Niger and Farkhod Oripov of Tajikista were disqualified for jumping early. "At that time, I didn't know how to swim," he said. "I was happy I was going to participate, but when I saw the pool, I was afraid. I haven't seen something big like that. It was very hard for me."The day-six crowd lifted as his arms and legs failed, and he still says now they got him home. For all the sporting identities who cry and moan about the Australian public's penchant for knocking down the tall poppies (and in this case, holding aloft the anti-tall poppy), this was why. There was no mental disintegration, no overzealous celebrations, no conveniently placed Nike swoosh or Rolex watch.Here was just a 22-year-old who refused to stop because his life depended upon it. Really - if he did stop he is still not quite sure whether he would have been able to get out of the pool by himself.If this seems a strange choice, consider this? How many of you remember who swam fastest in that event that year? (It was Dutchman Pieter van den Hoogenband).Eric did something rarer even than sporting brilliance; he achieved stardom by being slower than everyone else. Now who, bar the tortoise, has ever done that?This is an unfinished swimphony, too. Eric proudly tells us that a decade after his effort, next year, Equatorial Guinea will finally get its 50-metre pool, which means the country is likely to produce more Eric Moussambanis. Or better still, someone who can actually swim.
© 2009 Sydney Morning Herald