Chapter 1
The Olympic Stadium was roaring!
Thousands of spectators. The stands were jammed. Every Seat was taken. Flags from different nations fluttered in every direction. Fans from different countries met for the first time.
Yet the air between them was thick with rivalry.
They weren't there to cheer.
They looked ready to wrestle.
But, there was only one thing that mattered
The 400- meter finals.
Eight athletes. Eight lanes. One finish line.
Commentators lean towards their microphone.
"Klaus isn't letting anyone near that top spot. That position is his!" Commentator 1 declared.
At thirty-one, Klaus was no newcomer to the Olympic track. He had competed at three Olympic Games and had already collected three gold medals during his extraordinary career.
Commentator 2, Eyes narrowing,
"Don't be so sure. See that in Daniel's eyes... That's not giving up. That's war."
A young Kenyan runner Daniel Mwangi known for his explosive final 100 metres, overlooked every other athlete. His mind was fixed on just one man- Klaus, "The Bolt."
Followed his gaze commentator 1
"Looks like this game is about to take a turn that no one saw coming."
Every athlete had trained for years for those few seconds.
Cameras pointed towards the track
Samuel Okoro, Nigeria stood ready in Lane 1.
Arjun Mehta, India was in lane 2.
Lane 3 belonged to Julien Moreau, France.
Klaus Ritcher took his mark in lane 4
Beside him stood Daniel Mwangi lane 5
Mateo Silva, Brazil waited in Lane 7.
Last but not least Thomas Reed, lane 8 eyes forward jaw set.
Each runner had earned his place. None of them was inferior. Yet all eight stood, holding their breath, desperate for the the gun to go off.
One race. One medal.
The announcer's voice echoed through the stadium
"On your marks..."
The crowd fell silent
"Set..."
Klaus lowered his body.
Daniel's heart pounded.
The entire stadium seemed to hold it's breath -
BANG!
They were gone.
Klaus exploded from the starting line.
Daniel was right behind him.
Thomas was keeping pace.
Mateo was only a step behind.
The first 100 metres disappeared.
Then 150.
Then 200.
The crowd became deafening.
"Klaus is leading!" the commentator shouted.
But Daniel was closing the gap.
"Mwangi is catching him!"
The Kenyan runner surged forward.
Klaus pushed harder.
The two were almost level.
Then Arjun appeared on the outside.
"Mehta is coming through!"
Suddenly, nobody knew who would win.
The runners entered the final bend.
100 metres to go.
Klaus was still ahead.
75 metres.
Daniel was beside him.
50 metres.
Mateo was gaining.
The stadium erupted.
People were screaming.
Flags were flying.
The commentator's voice rose above the noise.
"This could go to ANYONE!"
40 metres.
Klaus leaned forward.
30 metres.
Daniel pushed harder.
20 metres.
The finish line was almost there.
The commentator bulged his eyes.
"As a three time gold medalist, Klaus could not fail".
The pressure was INTENSE
It's too much for any body to handle
.....
Well...may be this wasn't Klaus's race afterall.
