Fun and fear mingle as beach volleyball returns joyously to its spiritual home
Security fears fail to cast cloud over Copacabana Brazilian duo kick off party mood
R io’s blend of the sublime and the sinister was neatly symbolised by the gunboat lurking off Copacabana Beach. It was the one incongruity of a scene that could scarcely have looked more pristine if it had been chosen by the Brazilian tourist board. Silky white sands, cornflower blue sky, the rolling surf: this was exactly how beach volleyball was supposed to look upon its return to its spiritual home. But the grey Navy vessel in the background, plying the waters as US Secretary of State John Kerry took his place in the crowd, offered an ominous reminder of the anxieties beyond.
The security queue snaked almost a mile, past the beachfront markets and all along Avenida Atlantica. The ambience, though, was refreshingly vibrant. It felt almost as if a switch had been flicked by the opening ceremony, that Cariocas were at last at liberty to enjoy themselves. The tableau their city served up yesterday was stunning, eclipsing anything found at even the famously telegenic Olympics of Barcelona or Sydney. To look out from the highest tiers of this 12,000-seat amphitheatre, with the South Atlantic perfectly framed by the five rings, was to be reacquainted with the reasons Rio won the Games.
If the essence of the Olympics is to be found on the track or in the pool, it is on the beach that you can bottle its spirit. For Brazilians treat beach volleyball not as a fad or an aesthetically pleasing diversion, but as an expression of their way of life. The energy generated by a victory for Brazil’s pairing of Bruno Schmidt and Alison Cerutti, who saw off Canada in straight sets, was electrifying. While there are still swathes of seats to be sold at the equestrian events or the rugby sevens, Copacabana is one place where you cannot buy a ticket for love nor money. Better still, the evening sessions last until midnight. There is little the locals love more than a beach party – over a million poured on to Copacabana in 2006 for a Rolling Stones concert – and this is the sport that seems certain to provide it. Even the athletes think so. Louise Bawden, taking to the court for Australia, said: “We enjoy the music and the highenergy vibe. It feeds our game.”
On a day such as this, it was strange to recall how beach volleyball had gone bankrupt twice in the previous 20 years. It was profoundly hit by the global financial crisis of 2008, failing to capitalise on the United States’ clean sweep of Olympic medals in Beijing. But a fresh slate of blue-chip sponsors has helped to restore economic security and the showpiece in Rio affords the chance of a rebirth. With the greatest respect for Horseguards’ Parade, a novel and hugely popular venue at London 2012, beach volleyball is back on its rightful stage.
Schmidt, seeking a first Olympic medal, said: “The size of the arena and the feeling of the crowd is something we will be feeling all the way through. It’s a dream come true to play at the Olympics on Copacabana. This is remarkable, something I will keep in my mind to tell my children and one day my grandchildren.”
Strictly speaking, beach volleyball originated in Santa Monica in the late 1920s, before Brazil claimed it as its own. A fierce Brazilian-American rivalry has endured ever since, with only Germany having gatecrashed their duopoly over the Olympic medals. Indeed, a prominent subplot in Rio will be whether Brazil’s women can derail Kerri Walsh Jennings, the sport’s undisputed poster- girl. With her former partner, Misty MayTreanor, she won three consecutive Olympic golds, losing just one set in 21 matches. This time, she and April Ross will be hard pressed to overcome the Brazilian duo of Larissa França and Talita Antunes.
At times, the partisan support could be intimidating. When Canada’s Josh Binstock had the temerity to challenge a call in favour of his Brazilian opponents, with a John McEnroeesque show of histrionics, he was showered with derision. He took the reception graciously, at least. “I couldn’t ask for any more than to play on this beach against possibly the best team in the world. They were asking the crowd to be fair, but I never expected that. I felt the hostility, but I don’t take it personally.”
Schmidt had few qualms about Binstock’s intervention. “I like the challenge system,” he said. “The Canadians complained, but the screens showed he definitely touched
‘With the greatest of respect for Horseguards’ Parade, the sport is back on its rightful stage’
the net. Fans like it, they don’t like to see us argue all the time. So this is fair.”
Other teams indulged in theatre of a different kind. Italy’s Adrian Carambula, watched by his prime minister Matteo Renzi, sparked the day’s drama by unleashing his favourite trick, the ‘Skyball’. Eschewing the hard, sinking serve preferred by most beach players, Carambula sent a high, viciously spinning missile of a ball across the net – notoriously difficult to serve if the wind is gusting or if the sun is in your eyes. He launched half a dozen of them, as even the courtside DJ joined in the act by playing the James Bond theme song Skyfall. The court was also the politicians’ chosen hangout. As well as Renzi and Secretary Kelly, the Canadian sports minister, Carla Qualtrough, turned up to deliver support in the middle of a mob of men wearing ice hockey helmets. The mood was good-humoured, but the signs of alarm were rarely far from the surface.
This arena had needed to be evacuated the night before because of a bomb scare, while ripples of unease passed along the beach last night amid reports of an uncontrolled explosion. Evidently, that hulking warship in the middle distance was there for a purpose. Even while the beach volleyball was on, Rio was a city where fun mingled uncomfortably with fear.