World Athletics Championships (2)

Well, we went, and it was worth going. Seeing athletes live in the stadium is a completely different experience from watching on TV. On the screen, they look like superheroes, people from a different dimension. But in the flesh, they're humans like you and I, and the dedication it's taken them to achieve their strength and speed suddenly feels real. I'm far more in awe of their prowess now than I was before.

Getting to the Championships was quite an undertaking, though. The line for the south gate, where our tickets said we could enter, snaked for over a kilometer around the stadium. The boys and I tramped to the end, then had a call from Kentaro's mother - who turned out to be waiting for us at the north gate. I had Kentaro's parents' tickets as well as mine, so we tramped another 30 minutes around the outside of the stadium, getting a close-up view of the Emperor and Empress waving from their motorcade on the way. Though we'd left the car at 3:40, we finally got into our seats just as the opening ceremony was starting at 5:00. The boys were real troopers, and kept walking with hardly any complaining despite the heat and distance.

The opening ceremony itself was fun. Kentaro described it as "typical Osaka, all mixed up." It started with acrobats dressed in the kuidaore doll costume, and proceeded through a taiko performance with dancers spelling out words and characters such as "throw" and "run" in both Japanese and English; cheerleaders; singers and dancers from the all-female Takarazuka Review; Sarah Brightman singing impossibly high notes, accompanied by a gaggle of schoolchildren waving green branches; a song by a pop star called Yuji Oda; and finally a famous kabuki actor leading a clapping ritual that no-one was able to keep time to because the images on the screens were about half a second behind the actual performance.

I'd taken toys and books for the boys in case they got bored, but they didn't need them - the ceremony and then the actual competition kept them spellbound right up to the end, late into the night. They cheered for both Japanese and British athletes, but it was the Japanese who attracted their most fervent support. One moment early on made me laugh. Kei started chanting "Ganbare Nihon!" ("Come on, Japan!"), and Dan shouted indignantly "It's not Nihon, it's Japan!" Kentaro's mother explained that "Nihon" is "Japan" in Japanese, at which Dan's eyes and mouth formed perfect little O shapes of surprise and comprehension. I hadn't realized he didn't even know how to say the name of his own country in its own language ... sometimes bilingualism has unexpected pitfalls ...

At least when we go back tonight for the hammer final, both boys will be able to cheer for Koji Murofushi in the correct language.