Usain Bolt’s A-League destiny is in his own hands and feet

If Usain Bolt wants to play in the A-League, he will play in the A-League.

Usain Bolt poses for pictures with fans upon arrival at Sydney international airport on Saturday. Picture: AFP

Usain Bolt arrives at Kingsford Smith Airport, whacks a Central Coast Mariners scarf around his neck, lets a female fan push her lips to his cheek, catches the shuttle bus to the Blue Emu Car Park, drives his ute up the F1, rues the road work like we all do, grabs a snack at the Caltex servo like we all do, checks out the good sorts at the Terrigal Wamberal RSL Club, buys 20 bucks worth of tickets in the chook raffle and then knuckles down to the serious business of ­tomorrow’s first trial for an A-League contract.

There is romance in this. The pursuit of a childhood dream by a sporting legend who could’ve spent the rest of his life in a hammock at Montege Bay. Athletics was always in the palm of his hand but football was in his heart and so here he is, living at Terrigal, of all the places on Earth, on the eve of a potentially powerful, Boys’ Own-style chapter of his life … if he’s fair dinkum.

Bolt turns 32 tomorrow, the daft bugger. He will run onto a lightning bolt-decorated Central Coast Stadium in his first attempt to show the Mariners that he’s no toe-poker. And yet let’s make one admission. If Bolt wants to play in the A-League, he will play in the A-League. The yes or no will be coming from him and nobody else. It’s laughable to suggest the Mariners will knock him back. Ali is among us.

The worst-case scenario is that he’s a duffer. He’s having a go at being a goalkeeper. He tries to kick a ball away. You damn fool, they’re telling him, goalkeepers can use their hands! Even then, he’ll get a contract. He tries to take a corner and falls on his arse. He’s scared of tackling. He follows the ball around the field like an under-8 who doesn’t know that players have different positions. He’s baffled by the offside rule. He’s the only footballer in the world who doesn’t dive with more aplomb than Greg Louganis. All this can happen, and more, and Bolt will still get a contract if he wants one. Let’s just admit to that before the show hits the road. If Wendell Sailor reckoned he could make a turnstile swing …

“This is real,” Bolt says at the airport and what a wonderful thing it is. Unbelievable, too. Perhaps this ends with Bolt scoring a hat-trick against Sydney FC and doing three rounds of his To Da World celebration. Perhaps he finishes up with thongs, undersized shorts and a mullet while he downs schooners in regret at Club Wyong. Either way, it’s an incredible development to be played out on our doorstep. It seems somehow surreal or lessened because he’s doing it here. If he was trialling with a glamorous English club, we’d follow with fascination from a distance. He’s opted for the most unlikely launch since Daft Punk released Random Access Memories at Wee Waa and even driving up there to watch him tomorrow, there will be a sense of disbelief. The eight-time Olympic sprint champion. The 11-time world champion. One of the greatest, most electrifying, most charismatic and most successful athletes who’s ever lived. In the A-League!

“I’ve said it since my last season of track and field that I wanted to play football and I knew what I’m capable of,” he says. “I know what I can do. They (the Mariners) gave me a great opportunity and I’m ­really happy about it. I’m just going to come here and do my best as always. I always put my best foot forward and I’m just going to show the world I’m here. As you all know I love Australia, so I’m happy to call Australia home for now. I’m more excited than anything else.”

The F1 may be a road to ­nowhere. There may be more chance of Winx bowling left-arm seamers for the Southern Stars than Bolt winning the Johnny Warren Medal but for as long as he’s here, he will put bums on seats and attract a massive audience to tomorrow’s unveiling. And yet plenty of legends have walked this path and fallen flat on their faces. Michael Jordan was the untouchable basketballer for the Chicago Bulls. He wanted to play baseball for the Chicago White Sox. ­“Baseball was my first love,” he said. “Lemme try to accomplish my childhood dream.” It came to nothing.

San Francisco 49ers’ Jerry Rice was convinced he could be a ­professional golfer when his 20-year NFL career was over. He finished 151st out of 152 players at the 2010 French Express Classic and decided to give it a miss.

There’s success stories. Jarryd Hayne, if nothing else, did play in the NFL. Sonny Bill Williams went from league to rugby. Ian Botham and Ellyse Perry went from football to cricket. Scott Draper played professional tennis and golf. Jim Thorpe was the king, an Olympian who went on to play American football, baseball and basketball. The failures are more famous ­because there’s so many.

The modern-day Jordan, ­LeBron James, wants to play one NFL game. Just one. At St Vincent-St Mary High School in Akron, Ohio, he caught 61 passes for 1245 yards and 16 touchdowns before a scout called Urban Meyer tried to recruit him to the powerful college program at Notre Dame. He says James would have been “a first-round draft pick, a Hall of Famer”. American football has been James’ childhood dream and he’s serious about giving it a go. He’s also willing to admit the truth. He’s probably kidding himself.