What a trip
October 16 2000

It's been two weeks since I achieved one of my main goals in life, to win a gold medal at the Olympic games. Ironically, I did it on the day of Nigeria's independence. Have I mentioned something about a "full circle"? It also happened to be just a day after I achieved one of my other life goals last year, winning a gold medal at the World Championships. Last year, I won on the 30th of September. This year, it was a day later. How fitting?

What a trip it has been. In fact, the last month has been a bit like a dream.

I still dream about being on the podium. The medal is being put around my neck, and I lose it. A few minutes earlier, I had stepped on the Gold Medal podium for the 69 Kg Medal Presentation Ceremony at the Sydney 2000 Olympic Games. I had told myself to be calm and just enjoy the moment, smile, wave to the crowd, and sing the Canadian national anthem.

I am buried in tears and sobbing like a baby when I remember that just two hours ago she walked into my room. We normally hug, but this time, I am afraid to give her the customary hug. For some reason, it feels like something isn't right, In fact, I am convinced I don't have to hug her. She sits down in the sofa opposite me. We stare at each other. She yells out the words I have been longing to hear. "I am so proud of you," she says. The words sound familiar, but I cannot bring myself to remember when I last heard them. I return my usual "thank you very much" and we stare at each other again. The starring is not familiar. I wake up. She is my mum, Maureen Matheny; my surrogate mother who died five days after the World Championships. The unfamiliar words now become familiar. They are the words she had last spoken to me before she died after I showed her the World Championship medal. She had promised to be at the Olympics before cancer dealt us both a huge blow last year. She is here I thought, she is here. I jump out of bed, my fatigued body is invigorated all of a sudden. Who says there are no guiding angels. I kneel down and pray to God. I thank him for giving my mum a day pass to come watch over her son before heading back to heaven. She will be safe I promise him. She will be safe.

Then I see a kid walking bare foot. He is ten years old. He is used to it. The soles of his feet have grown accustomed to the hard, dusty Eniwari soil. He is running home from school with a worry - he has ripped his school uniform again, the second time in a month. He will receive some lashes on his buttocks from the cane. But why should he. After all, he cold easily justify why his school uniform got torn today. A wrestling Olympian, Appah Macauley, had just returned from the 1984 Olympics in L.A. He had told them about hard work and wrestling with the white man. He had told them he flew on a plane to get to Los Angeles. He had told them it was the best experience he had ever had. That was enough reason the kid thought to have a few wrestling matches with friends on the grass. Too bad the uniform got torn, but that was the first step to get to the Olympics (even though he did not have a clue what the Olympics were). His knees are also hardened from constant exposure to the bare earth and to the tough grass on the field in the village of Eniwari, Bayelsa State, Nigeria. Did I hear someone say "knee pads". This kid had never heard those words before, let alone know what they were. But today, he is on top the best spot of the podium receiving a gold medal at the Olympics.

Flashes of those training tours to Bulgaria come to mind. Flashes of a fateful day in 1992 at the Murtala Mohammed airport in Lagos, Nigeria during a proposed Olympic qualifying trip come to mind. The kid had lost 15 pounds and had was ready to claim one of three spots at the African Greco Roman Championship in Senegal to qualify for the Olympics in Barcelona. He had been in a closed camp for two months, preparing for this big event, he was ready, but had just been told at the airport that there was no money. "Go Back Home," they said.

Then 1994 comes to mind. The most difficult decision he had ever had to make. Instead of returning back to Nigeria with his teammates after the 1994 Commonwealth Games, he decided to stay behind in Canada. He is writing a letter to his mother and father. To his father, he writes, " I will not be coming back home. Hope you understand". To his mother, "I know you will be upset, but you will eventually understand why I am doing what I am doing". That was six years ago, over 2230 days. It has been a long road. A lot has happened since then. He remembers those first days. He can barely understand Tom Murphy, Susan, Patrick, Katie and Blair, the Canadian family that allowed him to stay with them. They talk so fast. It's almost as if they talk through their noses. They have an accent, he thinks. Why else wouldn't he understand them. Only if they talked slower.

He remembers the first snow fall back in Coquitlam, BC. How he went outside and had snow fights with them all. He remembers the cold. Jesus was it cold! What kind of a country is this, he recounts. He remembers his first car. How he drove around all night, amazed that he was driving his own car (he bought it for $800 in 1995). Unfortunately he crashed it five days later. He remembers Satnam Johal, a mentor who took him in for more than two years. He remembers those days washing dishes, picking berries, working construction, and working grave yard shifts as a security guard. Would he become a rich man now? Would companies now sponsor a kid from the fresh water swamps of Bayelsa State, Nigeria who had made it to the big show despite all odds and claimed the gold medal in historic fashion? How much would a gold medal be worth? A few hundred thousand dollars? That would be a shame. Could it be up to a millon dollars? Who knows? Don't expect a cent he thinks. Be content with whatever you get. After all, you have done well for a kid from the gutters. The tears are pouring now. He is shaking visibly, they can never stop.

Memories of those early days with his coaches, Mike Jones and Dave Mckay come to mind. He remembers the first training session he ever had with them. Halfway through the practice he had leg and stomach cramps. It was too strenuous. The training was just too intense. He could not handle it. But in a week, he would adjust to the new load. Soon he would win a bronze medal at the Clansman International (1995 edition) in the 62 Kg class. For a kid who was 11th at the Commonwealth games, it's not that bad he thought.

What about the match with NCAA champion, Steiner. He was winning 7-2 with a minute to go but blows the lead and loses in overtime. That was then. Since he does not have a handkerchief, he wipes his tears with his podium jersey, but soon, his face is flooded again. He remembers a letter from his Grandma. "Good hunting", is the way she had ended it. She would be a real proud grandmother, even though it will take her three days to get the news.

He remembers Steve Rose, a training partner and very good friend who has been as instrumental to his gold medal performance as anybody else. He remembers Chris Wilson, Wade Elliot, Nick Uguoalah, Justin Abdou, Neal Ewers, Danny Einhorn and a host of others he can't remember. How about General Mills, his main sponsors who took a chance on him at the Canadian Athlete of the Year Awards six months ago? How about Jane Roos and the See You In Sydney Olympic fund, Paul Nemeth, Baldhead Systems, Wasoo.com, New Way Trucking, A-class Doors, Purewal Farms, SFU Excellence Awards, and all the others who have contributed to his Olympic fund. He would soon be writing post cards to all of them saying "a piece of this medal belong to you".

He remembers the training camp in Mittagong where the team stayed before the competition. Instead of staying in the village, they trained in this quiet city, 120 km away from Sydney. He remembers months of sleeping at 10:30 p.m. Keeping a strict regimen, being really disciplined and ostracizing himself from his friends. He hopes they understand.

He remembers the birds that used to sing to him early in the mornings and late at night in Mittagong. He had assumed at the time that they were trying to calm his fears. Now he knows better. They were singing the coronation song to him ahead of time.

He remembers Wayne Wilson, a personal trainer who had so much faith in him. He is probably sobbing as well he thinks to himself. He remembers, the Greater Vancouver Sports Centre. He remembers his massage therapist, Rick Tkach, and SFU Physiotherapy. Then he remembers the words of Dave Mckay after the first round draw, "you are the bad draw". Yes, he had thought, "I am the man, I am the bad draw".

He remembers dreaming about Bree the night of the weigh-in. He remembers the first match being easier than he had expected. He had watched tapes of the Iranian late into the night, but did not have a strategy for him. "Just go out and wrestle" he had said to himself afterwards. He would get a break when the referees give the match to him on a tie. Too close for comfort. The match against the Cuban had been something he had looked forward to. It would not be a bloodbath, but it would be a dynamic match. It would end in his favour, 3-1 in overtime.

He would be wrestling in forty minutes. His physio, doctor, and coaches had just given him a massage. He had warmed down and gulped down a bottle of Powerade. The head phones were back on and Nas and Eminem were spitting lyrics to his soul in full blast: "I have not come this far for you mother .....so try to stop me now". Two tracks, "You can hate me now" and "This is the way I am" by Nas and Eminem respectively are the only two tracks he is listening to now. He has to get mad, get angry, get hungry. These two tracks get him in that frame of mind.

Dave Mckay comes over to discuss strategy, but he waves him away. He is not in any mood for strategy. The strategy will take care of itself when the whistle blows. This, for him is the gold medal match. Wrestle well and accept the consequences. If you lose, just make sure you have no regrets. Give your best effort. No, you cannot lose he thinks. You don't have that word in your vocabulary at this point. He remembers pointing to his chest and signaling "it comes from down there; it takes heart to win the big ones." He remembers McIlravy (his semi-final opponent from America) coming up to him in the change room and saying "you are the best athlete I have ever wrestled against." He remembers telling him the only thing he knows to say now, " thank you, thank you." "Good luck. Win the gold," McIlravy says to him, as he gets ready for the gold medal showdown.

The rest is history. He would do the celebratory jog around the maple leaf and seal the gold medal with a kiss. "It was all about a complete circle" he would later tell reporters. But now, he is still on top of the podium, the tears refuse to stop. The cameras are flashing away and there are hundreds of millions of people watching all over the world. The tears refuse to stop. He wipes it off again. This time, with the palm of his hands. The Canadian anthem is on. The maple leaf rises over the Russian and American flags and he chokes up again. He is singing O' Canada. This is exactly how he had wanted it to be, except the tears that would never stop.

On the return trip to Canada, he was moved up to first class. His gold medal sets off all the security alarms. But after the gold medal is discovered, there are cheers. The attendants want to snap pictures. They want to touch the medal. "It is the closest I will ever get to an Olympic gold medal", one of them say to him. "You made my day," says another. On the plane from L.A. to Vancouver they announce that Canada's latest hero is on board. He makes a pilgrimage down the isle. Every body gives him high fives. People want to snap some more pictures. Many more want to touch the medal.

Is this a dream he thinks to himself?

At the Vancouver international airport, he is invited to have dinner with the Prime Minister the following day. He would be greeted by a crowd of more than 1500 hundred people. He would have a press conference at the airport. He would be escorted by police officers and would have a pipe band from his University welcome him. He would have his mentor, his coaches, his friends form the East Indian community, his friends from the SFU wrestling team clad in wrestling attires with "Daniel Igali" written over their half-naked bodies greet him and there would be lots of placards held up by others.

His answering machine rings non stop. 30 messages every 2-3 hours. At dinner with the Prime Minister he would get a 2 minute standing ovation. He would get a home coming celebration from his city, the city of Surrey. He would appear on the Vicki Gabereau show with another fellow gold medallist, Simon Whitfield, another amazing young man. He would appear on "The End." He would be a guest on "open Mike with Mike Bullard." He would drop the Puck at the Maple Leafs hockey game in Toronto. He would be doing an average of 6 interviews, both print and broadcast media a day. Not bad for a kid from the dusty village of Eniwari, Nigeria.

He has not slept for more than five hours a day, for two weeks.

What? Was that dream?

No, it is not a dream. I have been back from the Olympics for two weeks now. It has been an amazing experience. The best thing the Olympics did was showcase wrestling to the Canadian people. I see have seen so many kids who want to be Olympic wrestlers. Cheerios will come up big. But so far, I have not heard anything yet from other big companies. Oh, well, it is their loss.

The most fun I have had so far is when I went to Guildford Park Secondary school for the welcome back celebrations. I genuinely enjoyed myself with the kids. Amateur athletes have about a one month window of opportunity to be in the spotlight. The Olympics is over. The professional sports are back in full swing. I guess my two weeks of fame are over.

I plan to drop my courses this semester and finish my degree in the Spring semester. The expectations from the Olympic Games were a very heavy load to carry. I definitely need some rest. I hope to do a lot of speaking engagements and camps with kids over the next few months. If I get a worthwhile sponsor, I could even do a cross-country tour and speak to school kids all over Canada. It has been fun while it has lasted.

I will continue to write sporadically about new happenings in my life in this diary. It may not be a novel like this one, but I will be keeping you up to date. I have received so much positive feedback from everyone I have met. I hope I did not disappoint you in anyway.

Thanks for keeping up with my Olympic preparation and with my life. I have been candid about my experiences and always will be. The Olympics are over, but the World championships in New York are just around the corner next August. I have already started my preparation for New York. The training partner I sparred with yesterday tells me that I still have the moves. Not bad for a kid, who six years ago, did not know what a dish washer was.

My fish sends his regards, he also tends to treat me with greater respect now. I get a feeling, he knows that WE DID IT!

Till next time, Keep sweating!

Daniel (Dynamite) Igali.