Mark Wignall | Twitch muscles on holiday?

The moment Jamaicans became aware that Shelly-Ann and Shericka were late no-shows in their respective races, a raw feeling of deflation washed over our little nation. And if we wanted to be honest with ourselves, we would know that some of the low feeling would be transmitted to the rest of the team.

I am not aware of any definitive, clinical study done to determine if there was any unusual causation with Jamaican athletes and twitch muscles. That is, if we even fully understood what twitch muscles were. I think a lot of it could be psychological.

Think of this. A doctor has a daughter. When many doctors are added up, it would be more likely that their children became doctors instead of some other profession. At some stage of our journey from Wint-McKenley to the present, we got used to hitting way above our weight on the global stage of athletics to where we began to feel entitled to athletic royalty at every Olympics.

We can look at some individually.

Kishane Thompson is much better than the version of him who was pipped by the American Noah Lyles in the 100 metres. He is young and is physically built in such a way as to have the perfect balance between power and speed. What that balance does is allows him an almost merciless speed without the upper-body effort in the race slowing him down.

He will learn a lot on the European circuit and become a world beater. In the interim, think of the huge crowds and the hype in a line-up that includes Thompson or Lyles among the list of names. I hope he makes a lot of money.

Having been denied a final, official farewell at the Olympics, I am hoping that Shelly-Ann could grace the international circuit for at least six more months, that is, if the sponsors can afford the multimillion demand. Shericka Jackson is also a big pull as representative of the catalyst seeing off Shelly-Ann and shouting to the youngsters like Tia Clayton, Alana Reid, and others, urging them to speed up their twitch muscles and hone their techniques.

ROJE STONA

The Jamaican discus thrower perfectly captured the Jamaican spirit when he hurled, seemingly, all of his body to strike gold and claim an Olympic record. Prior to the throw, who among us could honestly say we saw it coming? No one.

It seemed that it was all perfectly lined up. The angle from the thrower in the first trajectory, 35 degrees, was perfect. It was not 25 or 45 degrees, which would have been a waste of energy. As I watched it on YouTube, I had to check if it was indeed a feed out of the 2024 Olympics and not something shown in 2023. The fact is that I had no idea who he was.

Now, the world knows him, and today, as physically big as were his competitors, the sky is his limit.

It is possible that Stona knows exactly what his efforts mean to us as we had become starved for something to dance and cheer about. I believe that the young man knows that Jamaica floated on his arms as he hurled the disc and exploded into our lives.

Mr Stona, I want to shake your hands and tell you that I know you will be a success as you begin exploring life in the NFL. And I also hope that you make ton loads of money.

JAMAICAN WOMEN AND GANJA SMOKING

In a somewhat old interview, the Democratic candidate for the US Presidency, Kamala Harris, was asked if she had ever used ganja. Her reply was along the lines of “Hey! I have Jamaican connections.” Her father, an academician, in a deeply stolid mood, stated that he wanted to disassociate himself from her reply. Relax, daddy Harris.

I know a lot of Jamaican women who smoke ganja and many who do not. In economically depressed areas, quite a large percentage of men, teens, and under-40 smoke the weed. Men on construction sites who spend over eight hours per day in repetitive tasks smoke it continuously.

While many young women in economically depressed areas smoke weed, the regularity of its use is controlled by the fact that the simple act of holding and smoking a spliff requires the use of one hand and all five fingers. Those women are mostly involved in working, washing clothes, cookin,g and nurturing the children. The hands and fingers are constantly busy.

A few years ago I read something about the use of weed tea as a cure for insomnia. I stupidly mentioned it to Chupski. One late evening when I was on the road, I received a call from her. There was pure panic in her voice. “You have to come now, honey. Now!”

As I pushed open the front door, I saw her at the top of the stairs. She was hopping in place and flapping her hands as if she was about to fly. “I boiled some and drank it. I don’t feel right. Am I going to get mad, honey?”

I rushed up to her and took her to the bedroom. “Take off your clothes.You’re going to be OK,” I said.

I got a towel and ran it under the shower. In the bedroom I draped her in it while constantly assuring her that she would be OK. I had absolutely no idea what I was doing. To my knowledge it was the first time she would be using it - and certainly the last.

I had the fan on her. I wet the towel again, and it was quite cold against her body. In about half an hour, she was fast asleep. I covered her with a comforter.

It’s a joke item among us now after so many years.

Getting info on ganja use among women in uptown communities is difficult. That said, I once knew a female stockbroker who would always ask her gardener to make spliffs for her. In late evenings, she would swallow a Valium, lie on her bed, reading while smoking the weed. A huge part of her backstory had to do with an on again, off again marriage. And mentally coping with it.

Mark Wignall is a political and public affairs analyst. Send feedback to columns@gleanerjm.com and mawigsr@gmail.com