Fred Kerley stakes his claim to Usain Bolt’s throne in Eugene

By Jul 17, 2022, 12:40 AM EDT
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EUGENE, Oregon – It is accepted in track and field, both in silence and aloud, that there will likely never be another Usain Bolt. There will never be an athlete with Bolt’s ethereal combination of speed, presence and joy. Never another with Bolt’s relentless seizure of moments and of history. Never another with his ability to hoist a niche (being kind here) sport, throw it across his shoulders – or clench it in his radiant smile like a pirate’s scabbard – and make it not just relevant, but viral. He ran faster than any human, more gleefully than should be allowed, and pulled an entire ecosystem along in his slipstream. He was a unicorn.

On the other hand, never is a long time. Track and field did not stop contesting meets or 100- and 200-meter races when Bolt left to start a family of children with weather-themed names. Bolt has been gone for half a decade; his last races were at the 2017 World Championships, and they were not pretty. Two years later, Christian Coleman of the U.S. took the world title, decisively, in 9.76 seconds. He was a short, explosive sprinter in mold of 2000 Olympic gold medalist Maurice Greene, and he was just 23 years old. There was much promise. But subsequently Coleman got sideways with the doping police (three whereabouts failures, meaning he did not test positive but missed too many tests), was suspended for two years, and missed the 2021 Olympics. (He is back, but keep reading).

The post-Bolt 100 meters was left adrift, missing the big man and not just his schtick, but his speed. Missing a logical successor. Italian Marcell Jacobs was the longshot winner of the Olympic gold medal in Tokyo, and bless his Texas-born heart, Jacobs will never buy another bottle of wine in his country, but he was not the heir to Bolt’s greatness. He was a one-off, entertaining and perfect on the day when it mattered most, but perhaps never again. Track was left still searching – turning over rocks in the wood, to find only moss and mud.

Until now. Maybe. Not that it has discovered another Bolt, but perhaps another unicorn. (Hold the eyerolls and stay with me). Perhaps a worthy king, if not a worthy successor.

On Saturday night at the new Hayward Field, Day Two of the 18th World Track and Field Championships and the first in the United States, 27-year-old Fred Kerley – just three years ago one of the best 400-meter runners in the world, until improbably dropping down to the 100 meters last year (and winning Olympic silver) – won the 100-meter final in a time of 9.86 seconds. He was just .02 seconds in front of two other U.S. sprinters, silver medalist Trayvon Bromell and bronze medalist Marvin Bracy. It was the first 1-2-3 100-meter sweep at the worlds since 1991, when Americans Carl Lewis, Leroy Burrell and Dennis Mitchell pulled off the sweep. The U.S. had also swept the medals at the first worlds in 1983, with Lewis, Calvin Smith and Emmit King.

In an interview on the track, broadcast to the near-capacity crowd, Kerley shouted, “We said we were gonna do it, and we did it. USA, baby.”

Kerley is big (6-foot-3 ½) like Bolt (6-foot-5). He is, for the moment, nearly unbeatable, like Bolt, although not really like Bolt yet. Kerley is fast, and while not as fast as Bolt’s best times, he seems poised to challenge Tyson Gay’s 13-year-old American record of 9.69 in a competition without exhausting rounds. At the very least, Kerley has earned the title of world’s fastest human; at the very most, he has the potential to earn much more. As for showmanship, that might take some time; as effusive as Bolt was, that is how taciturn Kerley is. That would not matter in some sports, but it matters in track and field, where TV ratings cannot thrive on performance alone. But stay tuned. There were signs that this, too, could change, right after the race. (And it is notable that Bolt’s manager, Ricky Simms, is also Kerley’s manager. “They communicate all the time,” says Simms. “Usain has really been a great mentor to Fred.”)

Kerley came into the race a heavy favorite. He has been the dominant 100-meter runner in the world since last year’s Olympics and ran the world’s best of 9.76 at the U.S. Championships in June. He matched that time in Friday night’s heats here.

He was less dominant in the final. Kerley broke from the blocks in lane four, stride with Bracey in three, and they ran nearly in lockstep for 90 meters before Kerley snatched a sliver of daylight and then leaned cautiously, chest forward, arms wide, like a man trying to savor a summer breeze on a warm evening. He had beaten Bracey narrowly, though clearly. But far out in lane eight, running blind, Bromell had left Coleman – back in the game after his suspension – behind and closed furiously to nearly catch Kerley at the line.

Kerley applied the brakes, came to a full stop in the middle of the turn and stared up at the giant video board, as if willing his name to appear first. It did. Kerley threw both hands into the air, and a meet worker draped his gold medal around his neck. And then Kerley snagged the medal from around his neck and alighted on a delirious victory lap, slapping hands with front-row spectators and waving his arms while the medal’s cloth lanyard dangled toward the ground. It seemed his lap was nearly in the 43-second range that he had once run, and the display was, dare we say, Bolt-esque.

“I was talking about that before that race,” said Kerley. “Thinking about, ‘What should I do?’ Then I decided I would do that. Man, in my position in life, where I come from, it’s a blessing every day to wake up and breathe. So I’m thankful for that. And I’m thankful for this gold medal.” Hold that thought.

Bracy’s silver was his first global medal; Bromell’s was his first since 2015, when he was third in the worlds in Beijing. He subsequently twice tore his Achilles tendon, potentially ending his career. On the track Saturday night, he cried openly. “Tears of joy,” he said. “First medal in seven years. So yeah, tears of joy.” As to racing in lane eight, Bromell said, “Not to throw shade, but I wish I had been next to those guys. I might have timed my lean a little differently.” That sounded like shade. “Nah,” said Bromell. “Those are my guys.”

Kerley said he never saw Bromell. “Me and my lane,” he said.

As to Kerley referencing where he came from, that would be Taylor, Texas, a town of about 15,000, 35 miles northeast of Austin. Kerley was raised by an aunt in a home with 13 cousins and little means. He played football and basketball and ran track in high school, but didn’t devote serious training time to sprinting until his senior in high school, when a broken collarbone curtailed his football season and shortened basketball’s. “So I started running track more seriously,” Kerley told Track and Field News in 2019. “I didn’t have the greatest times.” He split 46.9 on a relay, which is actually not shabby, but might seem slow in his rearview mirror.

Kerley went to junior college and in 2014, made his first trip to Eugene, for USA Nationals. According to U.S. team chiropractor Josh Glass, who is close with Kerley, Kerley flew to Portland, took a bus to Eugene, ran poorly and ran out of money, subsisting on popcorn, and then bummed a ride back to Portland. Simms says, “If Fred seems hesitant to open up, it’s because he’s not quick to trust people because of the way he’s lived a lot of his life.”

But he got faster. He transferred to Texas A&M, where in 2017, he ran 43.70 to break 1992 Olympic gold medalist Quincy Watts’ collegiate record.

He made the world team that summer and finished seventh in London. Two years later he took a bronze medal in the worlds in Doha and a ran a personal best of 43.64 seconds, sixth-fastest ever by an American. He seemed assured of a lucrative career in an event the U.S. has long dominated. Then came the pandemic lull, and a gradual return. Kerley began running 100s and 200s, while never disavowing the 400. A year ago, he ran 9.78 and finished third at the Olympic Trials and took a silver medal (beyond Jacobs) in the Gamers. His transition was complete.

He became one of those athletes who comes to track and field greatness not in a straight line, but through a maze of trial and error, finding success in one event, only to find more success in another one.

U.S. women’s shot putter Chase Ealey, 27 years old like Kerley, is another one. Early in her high school career she was a champion sprinter and thrower, only to later emphasize the shot and eventually to make that her main event. (It is not as strange a shift as it might seem – both sprints and throws require explosive power. “A lot of throwers were sprinters,” Ealey said before the meet). On Saturday night, 15 minutes before Kerley folded himself into the blocks, she became the first American woman to win a world outdoor championship in the shot (Michelle Carter won three medals as well as the Olympic gold medal in 2016). Track and field has always been a something-for-everyone sport, occasionally in the same athlete.

It’s important to emphasize: Sprinters often move up in distance, as sharpness fades and speed endurance becomes more accessible than pure 100-meter explosives. They rarely move down. They even more rarely move down from excellence in the 400 to even greater excellence in the 100. “Maybe way back in history,” says NBC’s Ato Boldon. “Not in modern times that I can think of.” (A note here: Bolt was strictly a 200-meter runner early in his career, until he dropped down to the 100 in 2008 and twice broke the world record and won Olympic gold. So there is that, and it was stunning at the time, and in retrospect, stripped of what Bolt did afterward, still is).

Kerley’s range is stunning: He is one of only three men to run sub-10 for the 100 meters, sub-20 for the 200 meters and sub-44 for the 400 meters. The others are Michael Norman of the U.S. and 400-meter world record holder Wayne Van Niekerk of South Africa. Notably, both of them remain 200 to 400 specialists, while Kerley now owns the 100 and will also run the 200 meters here, a pure sprinter.

And as darkness fell on Eugene, the best in the world, next in the line of succession.

Twenty-four minutes at Hayward: Track and field worlds take frenetic turn

By Jul 18, 2022, 8:19 AM EDT
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EUGENE, Oregon – It is often argued that track and field is too ponderous and sprawling, too slow and too inaccessible for a modern audience whose synapses have been fried and shrunk to a length so short that an entire NBA game can be reduced to a TikTok post featuring one dunk and one dime, and possibly a mascot eating popcorn or a celebrity drinking wine at courtside. That meets are too long and too confusing, with throwing here, and jumping there and running all around and how can anyone be expected to follow it all? Maybe there’s a sliver of truth in all of this. Tastes evolve.

Or just maybe you needed to be here Sunday night at the new Hayward Field on the Day Three of the 18th Track and Field World Championships, and the first in the United States. Maybe you needed to see U.S. athletes win nine medals in a single day, four of them gold, both championship records. Maybe you needed to see a 27-year-old American woman who still logs hours as a cashier at Chipotle, fling the hammer farther than any other woman in the world for a gold medal; or three big American men sweep the medals in the shot; or a tiny 35-year-old Jamaican woman win her seventh global 100-meter championship, establishing herself as maybe the best female track and field athlete in history. Maybe you needed to see a very messy false start, gutting a hometown star.

But there’s helpful news: Most of it happened in a frenetic window shorter than half an inning of a Major League baseball games. Think of it as Twenty-four Minutes at Hayward. (All times approximate, don’t @ me with your timestamps).

7:28 p.m.: A crystalline sky overhead, slowly darkening, temperatures dipping toward the low-70s as if Eugene had put climate change on hold for a night (two nights, actually, as Saturday was splendid as well). A breeze swirling around the new stadium, which was mostly full for the second consecutive night. U.S. pole vaulter Sandi Morris, 30, stands at the end of the runway, safely in possession of a silver medal to match the silvers she won the at the 2016 Olympics, and 2017 and ’19 Worlds, but needing a clearance at 16 feet, ¾ inches to pass teammate Katie Nageotte, the 2021 Olympic gold medalist, and move into first place.

It had already been a successful day for the U.S.: Early in the afternoon, Brooke Andersen, 27 had taken gold in the hammer throw and teammate Janee’ Kassanavoid had won bronze. (They followed DeAnna Price, who won the gold medal at the 2019 Worlds in Doha, Qatar). Both are of the generation of U.S. women’s throwers who were recruited into the sport not because they were big, but because they were explosive athletes, with deep backgrounds in multiple sports. “I played every sport except track and field,” said Kassanavoid. Andersen was a 135-pound soccer player who idolized Mia Hamm. “I didn’t lift a weight until college,” she said. Now she weighs 185lbs and has retained her quickness and agility in the circle. But the life of a thrower has obstacles: Not long ago, Andersen trained while working a total of 60 hours at GNC and Chipotle, and she still snags hours behind the counter at the latter. But she also recently signed a contract with Nike, nudging toward full professional status.

7:29 p.m.: Morris, whose second attempt had been agonizingly close, wasn’t close on the third, leaving Nageotte with gold. “I wanted the gold,” said Morris. “I didn’t do enough to earn it. But 4.90 [meters, the 16-3/4] is a high bar, and everything has to be perfect, and it wasn’t.”

Nageotte spent much of the year battling a post-Olympic emotional letdown that nearly dragged her into retirement. “After the Olympics, I never got a break,” she said. “I got a physical break, but I never got a mental break. It was five years of stress, trying to make the team and win a medal and I really didn’t come back around until the last two months.”

7:31 p.m.: In the shot put ring, no more than 50 feet from the pole vault landing pit, and adjacent to the backstretch of the orange running track, 33-year-old American Joe Kovacs, readied for the fifth of his six throws, chalk spread across his neck. Kovacs won the world title in 2015 and ’19, and had been engaged in a long battle with countryman Ryan Crouser, who has won the last two Olympic golds and last summer broke Randy Barnes’ (suspicious) 31-year-old world record. Kovacs, nearly as wide as tall, launches a throw of 22.89 meters [75 feet, 1 ¼ inches] to take the lead over Crouser by seven inches. “I expected that from Joe,” said Crouser, “because he has such a potential for big throws.”

Kovacs said: “I expected Ryan to come right back and throw far.” They are like domestic partners, finishing each other’s sentences.

7:32 p.m.: On the front straightaway, eight men warmed up for the final of the 110-meter hurdles. The plot was thus: Grant Holloway of the U.S. was favored to win gold in Tokyo, but staggered off the last of 10 hurdles and was second behind Hansle Parchment of Jamaica. They would meet again. Subplot: This would be the last hurdle race for Devon Allen of the U.S. who ran track and played football at Oregon, before trying to make the Philadelphia Eagles’ roster as a receiver and kick returner.

Suddenly Parchment lay on the track, stretching, and then stood and limped off. A narrative-shifting DNS (did not start).

The shot put competition was paused before Crouser’s fifth throw, to give the hurdles center stage. The 6-foot-7, 315-pound Crouser stood alone on the infield in his red U.S. singlet and blue tights.

7:33 p.m.: The starter’s pistol crackled for the hurdles, and then crackled again. A false start. Crouser was called back into the shot ring, unexpectedly quickly. “It’s track, so you know things will go wrong,” said Crouser. “You just have to be prepared.” He was prepared. Crouser initiated rhythmic clapping and then tossed the shot – he makes it appear hollow – and it landed with a puff of pale brown dust, very near Kovacs’s mark.

7:34 p.m.: The meet announcer intones that the false start has been charged to lane three: Devon Allen. There was an audible gasp. Okay, school in session: False starts are assessed through an electronic system that measures how quickly an athlete applied pressure to pads on their starting blocks. If that pressure – the reaction time – is applied sooner than .100 seconds, it is a false start, on the theory that the athlete anticipated the gun, rather than reacting to it. This is an arbitrary number, but in theory with scientific underpinnings. Allen’s reaction time was .099 seconds, meaning that he was disqualified for reacting one one-thousandth of a second too quickly. (His reaction time in the semifinal was .101 seconds, safe by two one-thousandths of a second).

Allen wandered around, shocked. Twice he climbed over a fence to talk with start officials, to no avail. Other runners shuffled about, sympathetic but waiting to run. The scene was reminiscent of the men’s 100 meters at the 2003 Worlds, when Jon Drummond of the U.S. was disqualified for a false start (under different rules) and laid down on the track in protest before eventually leaving. Allen did not lay down on the track. “I know for a fact that I did not false start,” said Allen afterward. “I didn’t react until I heard the gun.”

7:35 p.m.: Crouser’s distance appeared on the small infield video board and is announced: 22.94 meters, three inches beyond Kovacs and into first place. It is a World Championship meet record.

Allen wanders some more, arms outstretched, palms up. Holloway is surprised but not shocked by Allen’s fate and the general state of chaos prevailing: “I’m on Devon’s side; I don’t think he false-started,” Holloway says. “But it’s athletics and, pardon my language, shit happens.”

7:37 p.m.: An official theatrically raises a red and black card at Allen, officially disqualifying him from the race. There are boos. There is murmuring. Shit happens. Allen walks off the track, under the grandstand and out of sight. The other hurdlers line up, only six of them. No Parchment, no Allen. Holloway, in lane four, will run with empty lanes on both sides. It’s a lousy look.

My take: On the one hand, it’s preposterous that Allen was allowed to run with a reaction time of .101 seconds and tossed for a reaction time of .099 seconds, and thus deprived of running in the most important race of his life (with Oregon fans similarly deprived, a buzzkill moment on an otherwise thrilling day). And he did not appear to move, whereas most false starts come with some visible backup. (A false start in the women’s 100-meter semifinals also looked very iffy). On the other hand, there has to be a false start rule of some kind. Older versions, in which a runner was disqualified for two false starts, led to long delays and runners throwing flyers indiscriminately. More to the point, there was no solution available in the moment. You can’t just give the batter four strikes on the spot because three is a bad rule (or because he’s popular). But it was a downer in the building.

7:39 p.m.: Holloway rolled to his second consecutive world title – around that Olympic silver – in 13.04 seconds. “Parchment goes down, Devon false started, which he didn’t, but it happened,” said Holloway. “You say to yourself, ‘Focus, just be the first one to the line, like any other race.’” Trey Cunningham of the U.S. took silver, a one-two U.S. finish. “Not my best race,” said Cunningham. “But it’s a shiny medal.”

7:43 p.m.: Kovacs’s last throw was short of Crouser’s mark. Crouser’s last throw – “I just swung for the fences,” he said – is a foul. The bronze medal goes to 27-year-old American Josh Awotunde, who recovered from a spring pectoral strain, spent time living with Crouser and under his wing, and threw an 11-inch personal best on his first throw. It was the first 1-2-3 shot put sweep in Worlds history and followed up the U.S. sweep in the men’s 100 meters Saturday night. There would be one more, not by Americans.

7:46 p.m.: Seven Americans wore flags and worked their way around the track, not together, but in synch, celebrating, posing. Morris and Nageotte on the first turn. Crouser, Kovacs and Awotunde on the backstretch. Holloway and Cunningham on the far turn. A couple firetrucks, a marching band and it could have been a parade. The track was cleared for one last event.

7:52 p.m.: Shelly-Ann Fraser-Pryce of Jamaica, 35 years old and five feet tall, ripped away from the blocks and bounded to a gold medal in the 100 meters in 10.67 seconds, a world championship record. She won Olympic 100-meter gold medals in 2008 and 2012 (along with a bronze in Rio in 2016 and a silver behind Elaine Thompson-Herah last year in Tokyo) and has won the 100 meters at five of the last seven worlds. She is the only woman to break 10.70 seconds five times (Thompson-Herah has done it four times; Flo-Jo did it three times). There is little doubt Fraser-Pryce is the best female sprinter in history and quite possibly the best in all events. It’s a worthy discussion.

“This is my favorite title, doing it at 35,” said Fraser-Pryce. “ Yes, I said 35. Age doesn’t change anything. If I’m healthy, I’m going to compete and I’m not going to stop until I don’t believe that.” Shericka Jackson followed Fraser-Pryce for silver and Thompson-Herah for bronze, a sweep to match the U.S. men 24 hours earlier. They too, each grabbed the familiar Jamaican flags. Fans began descending from their seats and spilled into the concourse. A breeze stiffened from the north. Seven more days remain.

Allyson Felix retires with unmistakably historic legacy

By Jul 16, 2022, 12:51 AM EDT
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EUGENE, Oregon – The moment was both majestic, and at the same time lacking in appropriate majesty. Majestic, because the athlete was Allyson Felix, at 36 years old, the most decorated woman ever in track and field, running the last competitive lap of her life and adding yet another medal to the heaviest collection in the sport’s long history. Lacking in majesty, because the event was the second leg on a mixed 4×400-meter relay on the first night of the 18th Track and Field World Championships, but the first in Felix’s home country, in a city where she could apply to receive mail, because she has raced here so often and so brilliantly. And because the United States won a bronze medal, not gold, a minor quibble in the end.

Felix’s last dance began at a tick before 7:51 Pacific Daylight Time Friday night, when she snatched a white relay baton out of the hand of U.S. leadoff runner Elijah Goodwin, who – requisite perspective in any Felix tale – was four years old when Felix competed in her first Worlds, in 2003 in Paris. The crowd at Eugene’s new Hayward Field (which was not full for the first night session of the competition, which may or may not be an ominous sign) roared ever louder in response. Felix was required to stay in lane 6 around one turn, and then floated through small rays on sunlight at the top of the backstretch before cutting into the rail with a 20-meter lead.

Felix stayed in first down the backstretch and around the final turn, but in the homestretch was decisively caught and passed by Marileidy Paulino of the Dominican Republic. This was not a surprise: Paulino is the fastest woman in the world this year in the 400 meters, with a best of 49.49 seconds (only .23 seconds slower than Felix’s decade-old career best). Felix best open 400 this year is 50.71. Paulino split a blazing 48.47 for her leg; Felix ran 50.15, more than respectable. Felix passed the stick to Vernon Norwood (the mixed relay mandates a male-female-male-female order for all teams), who ran Team USA back into the lead before passing to anchor Kennedy Simon, who held the lead into the final 50 meters before she was passed by Fiordaliza Cofil of the Domincan Republic (49.92 split) and Femke Bol of the Netherlands (48.95 split). Simon’s split was 50.90; her season’s best is 50.45.

“It was an emotional day,” Felix said afterward. She said that during the afternoon, she found herself overwhelmed. “There was a point, earlier today,” she said, “where I just started breaking down. [Her brother/agent] Wes came over and hugged me and talked to me. But once I got to the track, I got into my routine.”

Yet still: “It was just a night to be grateful,” she said. “All the messages I got. Just hearing how much people thought I meant to the sport. And then tonight, it really was a special night.”

She also noted that she went into the stands to hug her daughter, Cammy. “She told me I was sweaty,” said Felix. Then a laugh.

It is rare in her long career that Felix has been asked to elevate a moment, because the moments in which she has thrived did not need elevating. They were already at the highest level – Olympic and World individual and traditional relay finals. National championships. She has been swimming in the deepest water in her sport since she was 17 years old, rising to meet moments halfway, sometimes winning and sometimes not, always leaving no effort unspent. “I hope I’ll be remembered as a fierce competitor,” said Felix at a Thursday press conference, nearly her last among hundreds.

She will be remembered for that. And for much more. For her 11 Olympic medals, dating back to 2004, when she was just 18, one more than the legendary Carl Lewis and more than any other American track and field athlete; two more than Jamaican sprinter Merlene Ottey’s old record for most Olympic track and field medals by a woman. For her World Championship medals, of which Friday night’s was her 19th, and 13th gold, both more than any other athlete – male or female — in history (Usain Bolt and Ottey each won 14). For winning a grinding and painful 400-meter bronze last year in Tokyo, after the November, 2018 birth of her daughter by caesarean section, 32 weeks into a difficult pregnancy. (She had previously won two post-childbirth relay medals at the 2019 Worlds in Doha, after just 10 months). For finding a strident voice on important issues late in her career, after many years of quietly getting along, and stirring no pots.

(We can expect more of this: In the April Instagram post that announced her retirement, Felix said she is “running for women,” this year, and also that her retirement plans will include trying to “make the world a better place for women.” At Thursday’s press conference, Felix said, “I’m trying to leave the sport better than I found it, trying to support female athletes and women in general and fight for more equality.”)

But there is something else, too, that makes Friday night the perfect coda for Felix’s career and, in a larger sense, for this moment in track and field. Since running at her first Worlds in 2003, Felix has always been there. Even with all those medals, Felix has persistently been great, but never dominant in a single event. Her gold medals were hard-earned, nearly every time, and her silvers gutting. (Veronica Campbell Brown of Jamaica beat her in the 200 meters at two Olympics – 2004 and 2008 — leaving Felix in puddles; Shaunae Miller-Uibo threw herself across the line in 2016, winning gold in the 400 meters and leaving Felix with silver. More puddles).

Right now, and for a long time, track and field historians, fans and aficionados will comb through Felix’s career and seek the touchstone moment with which to describe her excellence. The pitchy summary or tight sound bite. It will be the medals, and the times, too – she retires as the eighth-fastest woman in history in the 200 meters (21.69 in 2012) and the 21st-fastest woman in 400 meters (49.26 to win the world title in 2015). She is not the fastest American in either event. And all of that is fine, and important, and worthwhile. It all misses the most important point, too.

As great as Felix has been, as inspirational – USA heptathlete Anna Hall recalled having a Felix poster on her wall as a teenager – as she has been, she has done something more remarkable and more quietly. For nearly two decades, she has shown up. That sentence is not typed lightly. For nearly two decades she has been an earnest and professional presence who never cheated an audience or herself.

We live in a world that feeds off superlatives: Greatest. Fastest. Strongest. Best. G.O.A.T. (ugh). Felix has been all of them, but she also has been present in a sport that desperately needs presence.

She is surrounded, in her athletic dotage, by younger teammates who have sought to brand themselves by the force of a handful of performances, or less. Felix’s brand was built, race by race, year by year, until it was unmistakably historic. She was a volume shooter in a sport often populated by one-hit wonders. That will be her legacy.

But let the record show that her competitiveness did not yield to her emotions on this last night. “I was determined to enjoy this year,” Felix said. “But yeah, it would have been great if this medal was gold.” Pause. “But I’m not going to dwell on that at all,” she said. “I’m proud.”

Once again: Earned.