Trial says more about A-League’s desperation than Bolt’s ambition
Let’s be clear. We all know this isn’t about football. If a 32-yearold called Duncan Bolt with virtually no top level experience walked into the headquarters of A-League club Central Coast Mariners asking for a trial, he would be back on the street before you can say “this isn’t a Wednesday night Futsal team, mate”.
Even if Duncan Bolt was a tightly rolled 195 cm ball of fast twitch fibres with the swagger of Jagger, the smile of a supermodel and the charisma of a TV evangelist.
Even if Duncan Bolt was so fast, he had to ease down to let his shadow catch up.
Even if Duncan Bolt offered to pay the club to let him play — instead of asking for close to $1 million just to turn up for an eight-week trial.
Even if Duncan Bolt was — how do we put this politely? — certain to provide an instant lift in team visibility at nightclubs and bars as a walking, talking aphrodisiac.
So forget all the predictable selfjustifying
The greatest sprinter in history started training with the Mariners this week because, well . . . because he’s Usain Bolt.
talk about Usain Bolt’s “genuine football ability”, “indisputable athletic gifts” and “potential to bring a real professionalism to the club”.
Everyone knows the greatest sprinter in Olympic history started training with the Mariners this week because, well . . . because he is Usain Bolt.
Some football fans, particularly those trying to protect the credibility of the Mariners and A-League, don’t like to hear that.
But once you admit Bolt’s indisputable and — judging by the enormous media scrum at Mariners’ training — highly transferable stardom is the only reason he became the highest earning trialist in A-League history, you can enjoy his unexpected presence much more.
Acknowledging Bolt is here only because of his vast fame, rather than any latent football ability, means you can measure your expectations against reality. Not the myths contrived to justify the expenditure and potential distraction his presence at the Mariners has created.
So what should we expect of Bolt whose only exposed form includes goals scored against ageing players and fellow celebrities in televised charity matches?
The sceptical prediction is Bolt is here to cash a big cheque, stay only for the minimum eight weeks his initial contract covers and head to the airport at the same speed he normally sprints to the finish line.
But the way Bolt spoke at his initial press conference, it was tempting to believe he thinks he can become a successful two-sport athlete.
“I want to be treated as one of the boys,” said Bolt when asked if he expected special favours. “I want to be treated as a footballer because that’s what I want to be.”
The last A-League import to attract such enormous media coverage in these parts was Alessandro Del Piero. The Italy and Juventus superstar was also one of the boys at Sydney FC — if that includes having a private dressing room and only taking instructions from the coach after you’ve had your facial and manicure.
Of course, Del Piero came with the added bonus of having been one of the greatest footballers on the planet, where no one is sure if Bolt can dribble anywhere near as fast as he can run.
In that regard, the training track might prove the great leveller for the global superstar and a bunch of Mariners teammates who could walk through most of pubs in their home town Gosford without turning a head.
Bolt can tell his teammates about the night he entertained the Swedish handball team in his room in the Beijing Olympic Village after sauntering to the gold medal in 9.69s. His teammates can then remind him about the enormous divot he took out of the training ground on Tuesday while hacking at a routine pass.
But while Bolt has shown refreshing humility about the challenge he confronts, and Mariners coach Mike Mulvey has pledged his support, there will come a time when he has to jog on to the pitch and show what he’s got.
This will not just be a moment of truth for Bolt but for the A-League itself.
On one hand, Bolt’s presence would provide an enormous sugar hit for a competition that has lost momentum in recent seasons due to a mixture of mismanagement and inevitable growing pains.
But what would it say about the standard of the A-League if a retired sprinter who trialled unsuccessfully in Germany and Norway could play a single top flight game here?
If Bolt happened to defy the doubters by sprinting down his wing, beating the offside trap like it was in lane five, smashing home a volley and treating the crowd to his trademark lightning bolt celebration?
I doubt anyone would care whether he was playing for the Mariners or Manchester United.
Richard Hinds is a leading
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Australian sports columnist.