My Tryst With 'The Son Of The Wind'

For a writer or journalist, the story closest to his/her heart is always the one which he/she unexpectedly heard about and followed relentlessly to success.

And when the object of one's pursuit is someone who the world knows as the 'Son of the wind' or 'Olympian of the century' or simply 'Carl Lewis', then the mission suddenly transforms itself into something more than just routine work.

And that was exactly the situation which I found myself in the other day.

I've been his fan for as far back as I can remember. I was just three when he first won an Olympic gold medal. By the time I turned 15, he still hadn't stopped. This was the guy who redefined coolth on track. This was the guy who brought athletics out of its amateur status. This was the guy who was in Doha, but nobody knew about...

I first learned about him being in the country through one of Qatar's leading newspapers. He was just a small mention among a sea of bigger other names. His little smiling picture suffered a similar fate and was buried among countless smiling others. I almost never read the paper. But when I did, my eyes got stuck on a single photograph which beckoned me. I knew that this story was mine to say...

I discussed it with our team in office and approval was instantaneous. “Give it a shot, try to meet him. Security would be tight, do what you can”. And that was all that I needed.

I drove to the Shafallah Centre on Monday evening, where I knew he would be attending a conference. It was dark by the time I approached. The road was like a huge canvas of black, with bright white lights of the Shafallah casting an unearthly glow at its end. I resisted the need for speed and drove slowly to the end. And as in all stories, I faced the first obstacle.

The workshop for the day had ended three hours earlier. The security guard spoke fluent English (which was a huge relief), but he hadn't any idea about the guests' whereabouts. So he called his superior and he was there, on the trot. He guessed that they might either be at the XXXX Hotel or at the YYYY Hotel.

So here I was, stuck in the middle of nowhere, guessing where they might all be...

I called Qtel, got the hotels' numbers and hit dial. The first hotel said 'yes, they had a Lewis registered'. I was overjoyed at having hit pay dirt so soon. And that was when they transferred me to a Ms. Louise. I still have no clue as to who was more shocked... me, having suddenly found out that Carl Lewis had turned female, or she... who suddenly heard a lunatic say 'Mr. Lewis, I really thought you were male...”

One down, one to go... I dialed the second hotel, still parked in the middle of nowhere. They told me flat out that “No, they didn't have a Carlos staying on as a guest” and dropped the phone. I called again and they apologised profusely before connecting me to... CARL LEWIS HIMSELF!

Now, this guy's a dude, humility personified. He listened to me for a full minute before apologetically saying that he was in the middle of a meeting and could I please call his colleague and fix an appointment? I jumped at the opportunity.

I called the hotel again and talked to Ms. Schram, a gem of a lady. She wished to see our publication. She did in 20 minutes flat. She wanted to consult 'Carl'. She'd get back to me... 2.5 hours later, as I was locking our office door to go home, the phone rang and the interview was in place. I danced all the way to the exit.

D-Day - Tuesday, 2pm.

I was fully fitted in formal wear to do my biggest story yet from Doha. The rendezvous time got nearer. As the clock struck 2, a door at the far corner opened. Out walked the man himself, all decked up to hit the gym. A very overdressed me, and the perfectly dressed he (he'd look smashing in any dress) shook hands. A connection was made.

I followed him to the gym. He borrowed half a sheet of paper, drew rows and columns on it and meticulously recorded his exercise regimen for the day. And he talked while pumping iron, as if it was the most natural things in the world...

It was fascinating to listen to him talk, and it wasn't another 20 minutes before he stopped.

By the time the interview was over, I'd got one of my best ever stories and made acquaintance with a true legend...

...A legend they call 'The Son of the Wind'.