The long jump: a challenge to gravity

There are moments that are perpetuated in history and turn their authors into legends, even if the feat is accomplished in a few moments.

The Mexican Olympics were held in 1968. The sports world would see several records shattered, but one record eclipsed all others due to its significance. It was October 18th, and the track and field events were taking place on the tartan of the Olympic Stadium. In a designated area, a young African-American man was preparing to make his first attempt in the long jump final. His name was Robert "Bob" Beamon.

The Solomons tell him he can do it. Beamon takes off at an impressive speed, takes 19 strides, and, with impeccable technique, flies through the air, rising just over 1.80 meters, remaining in space for six seconds, landing in the sand pit after traveling an astonishing distance.

The referees who would measure the jump watched the white flag being raised, indicating a successful performance. They immediately checked the anemometer, which indicated a favorable wind speed of two meters, the maximum allowed. All this meant the jump was successful, and they proceeded to measure it.

The optical devices that had been set up to measure the jumps were not designed for that distance, so the two judges, astonished, proceeded to measure it manually with a tape measure.

The process took time to produce the result, while all was uncertain. But the audience and the participants knew something incredible had happened. After approximately twenty minutes, the referees took to give their final verdict, it appeared on the scoreboards: 8.90. Eight meters, ninety centimeters. A new Olympic and world record had been set. That jump had surpassed the previous mark by fifty-five centimeters. It was an iconic mark, one that defied the laws of gravity.

Never before had a record been surpassed with such scope, leaving Bob's feat immortalized in the history books of sports. For many specialists, this was the perfect leap, giving rise to a term to describe spectacular and disproportionate feats: the Beamonesque.

Some time later, a prestigious sports magazine described it as one of the best sporting moments of the 20th century.

More than fifty years after its establishment, it remains the oldest Olympic record in athletics, and it will certainly not be repeated in another competition of its kind. For the record, Mike Powell holds the world record, with 8.95 m, set in 1991 at the World Championships in Tokyo.

Beamon only had that moment of greatness, in which, parodying a Roman general, I'll say: he ran, took off, flew, landed, and became immortal. A single stride made him immortal. After that feat, his athletic career never took off, but his leap remains a model of greatness.

Beamon, without a doubt, literally, achieved immortality in one leap. Mérida, September 15