Two words from Usain may prove prophetic

There’s a positively surreal edge to arguably the greatest athlete in history trying to jag a job in Gosford.

Usain Bolt in his first training session for Central Coast Mariners yesterday. Picture: AAP.

To da Mariners. Where Usain Bolt looks like he’s in one of those YouTube videos in which a baby giraffe is trying to walk for the first time. You know those videos? The ones in which the long-limbed creature has its legs wide apart when they’re meant to be close together. When long and slow steps are being attempted instead of the required smaller and faster movements. Limbs are flailing in all directions and balance is being lost. Bolt is nothing if not enthusiastic in his attempt to find his feet at the Central Coast Mariners but on first impressions … he may not be up to this.

The drive to Central Coast Stadium takes you past Bazza’s Pet Shack in what seems a suitable symbol for the low-key, off-Broadway nature of his latest attempt at professional football. There’s a positively surreal edge to arguably the greatest athlete in history trying to jag a job in Gosford. Right now he’s inside one of the best little boutique stadiums in the country, wearing gloves because he’s cold, or wants to be the goalkeeper. Given the Mariners’ struggles in recent seasons, you wouldn’t wish that on him. Nearly a hundred journalists are sitting down to watch Bolt in the act of sitting down. It’s the closest you can get to literally watching the grass grow.

To da nitty gritty. The lack of ego is wonderful. Most athletes in Bolt’s sphere of sporting legendom, a sphere that includes Ali, Pele, Jordan and Federer, would consider this beneath them. He may be on the eve of making a complete fool of himself once opposition defenders start roughing him up, starting with a trial match at the end of the month, but for now, brave for giving it a red-hot go. One Gosford-based observer has a young son who can’t believe Bolt is in town — because he hasn’t been aware that Bolt is a human being. He thought he was a Marvel superhero alongside Thor, Hulk and Black Panther.

Bolt starts by going through a number of running routines. He looks good in those! He’s in luck with his equipment — Puma makes football boots as well as athletic spikes. With fluoro orange laces. And hats that will be slapped on his head every time a camera is in his face. Dear old lawn bowlers are rolling down a few at their neighbouring club, completely disinterred. The soccer balls come out and that’s where complications are revealed for Bolt. He’s fit, but the wrong sort of fit. Nothing he’s put through remotely mirrors the frenetic nature of a real match. No hassling defenders in his face. We watch two hours of every grin, grimace, yawn, stretch, trap, jog and left-foot kick from the world’s fastest man, and drive back past Bazza’s Pet Shack with the following snapshots in the memory bank.

Snapshot #1: His natural gift of speed is only going to take him so far. They’re doing a drill in which three Mariners are in a semi-circle. They have the ball. One player is in the middle of the ring. The trio of players pass the ball among themselves while the bloke in the centre has to intercept. Bolt is in the middle. This is the most revealing exercise because it shows Bolt’s weakness. He’s surrounded by shorter blokes with fast, shuffling feet. They quickly change direction. Bolt can’t get a foot on the ball. He takes long and loping steps. He takes a while to change direction. They keep tapping the ball between his far-apart legs. The ball sails through like a boat going under the harbour bridge. Arms and legs going left and right while the Mariners players run rings around him. This is when he resembles an unsteady baby giraffe trying to take its first steps.

Snapshot #2: Bolt is doing a simple kick-to-kick routine with the Mariners’ Kalifa Cisse. They’re standing about 10 metres apart. they don’t trap the ball, they string together a chain of one-touch passes. Bolt has a reliable left foot. (Who can’t kick a soccer ball? Who hasn’t played a bit of soccer as a kid?) He’s no duffer. There’s some basic skills there. But he’s nervous — endearingly so, given the stature of the man — and straight after he finally takes his gloves off, he attempts a pass and chunks it like he’s topped one off the first tee. The ball dribbles to his left while a large piece of turf flies away. He laughs in embarrassment, apologises for destroying the billiard-table surface and runs off to retrieve the turf he dug up. Still saying sorry, he’s good enough to replace his divot.

Snapshot #3. The eight-time Olympic gold medallist running with his elbows and knees high in that beautifully textbook stride, while a football is at his feet, is quite the sight. He’s walked out in enough cold-weather gear to suggest he’s going up the Crackenback chairlift at Thredbo. A couple of locals peering through the back fence are shouting, “Go Usain!” He’s no klutz, but he’s no polished product. He messes up a pass and goes, “argh!” He flicks up a stationary ball and traps it with his left, grinning while he does so. Doing planks, he looks like an actual plank. But he’s knackered a long time before anyone else. “I’m sweating!” he shouts. At 10.44am, after the grand sum of 13 minutes of work, he’s doubled over in exhaustion. His hands are on his hips. He guzzles water. He bends over again. Hands to his knees. He groans and speaks loudly enough for the assembled throng to hear. He says two words that may be uttered repeatedly during his attempt to build himself a new career. To da A-League from here? Or to da scrapheap? Through clenched teeth and with sweat pouring down his forehead, Bolt struggles for breath and says, “Oh, shit!”