T
The Person Underneath
Guest
It is the opening ceremony of the Sydney 2000 Olympic Games.
Media helicopters buzz Sydney's Millennium Stadium like midges around a fresh, steaming cow-pat. Tension, excitement, hope, trepidation, emotional ingredients so tangable in the air of that humid, sunlit cauldron down-under that you can slice through the atmosphere with a baseball bat.
Viewed from the satellite-linked CNN chopper sports-cam, hovering high over the immaculately resplendant green field surrounded by a moat-like, burgundy coloured running track, two small dots proceed towards the painstakingly prepared central stage. For the next few minutes this will be the nucleus of the entire universe.
As the live feed switches from air to ground we receive our first close-ups of these two legendary performers. One is debonair, handsome, with a windswept mystical air. The other is shorter, older, sporting a goatee beard pampered and manicured for the occassion. He carries, tucked under his left arm, a thin board no more than 1x1/2 metres in dimension. These entertainment giants require no introduction. We all know WHO they are, we all know WHY they're here.
Their purpose appears superficially simple. To sing a song. A duet.
Hush.....hush.
The murmuring fades. The encompassing silence is intruded upon only by the fluttering sound of the recalcitrant streamers, glistening and dancing upon the artificial thermals generated by the combined breath and body heat of the tightly packed, sticky stadium audience. As the spellbound world gazes on in hypnotic wonderment, the splendour and occassion boils down to one question......ONE question. It flits through the minds of billions, teasing, tormenting and agonising. "What will they sing.......WHAT will they sing?"
Whatever it will be it must send forth a message of hope and unity that can be easily and immediately interpreted and adopted by cultures all over the globe. A stirring, emotional plea with international appeal for goodwill, compassion and empathy, A song which will grasp the passion, dedication and commitment of the hoards of assembled athletes. Something so inspirationally uplifting it will blow a gargantuan raspberry at "Imagine" and "Wind Beneath My Wings".THE PLANETARY ANTHEM FOR THE NEW MILLENNIUM!
And we wait. And we wait. For what seems like an indeterminable length of time. Quite long in fact.
Then. A low wobbly noise begins. Its volume intensifies as it is picked up by the battery of microphones burdening the podium. Slowly at first. Wobble....wobble....wobble. It gradually gathers speed, wobble..wobble..wobble..wobble. The crescendo peaks in volume and intensity as it adopts the sound of a demented helicopter rotor, wobble.wobble.wobble.wobble.wobble. That famous toothy grin and knowing wink from the bearded one towards his handsome companion, wobblewobblewobblewobble.
The taller performer, coolness personified, takes one confident step closer to the microphone array. He stares longingly into the camera which will beam this heart-melting image into the living rooms and minds of our planet. He inhales, deeply. Exacting the last painstaking microsecond of apprehension. Milking the moment to its very core. Billions of hearts cease to beat, there is a disturbance in the cosmos and then........
"You put your left leg in,
your left leg out,
in, out,
in, out,
you shake it all about........"
Do you think Juan Antonio Samaranch(IOC president) visits this site?
T.P.U. xxx
Media helicopters buzz Sydney's Millennium Stadium like midges around a fresh, steaming cow-pat. Tension, excitement, hope, trepidation, emotional ingredients so tangable in the air of that humid, sunlit cauldron down-under that you can slice through the atmosphere with a baseball bat.
Viewed from the satellite-linked CNN chopper sports-cam, hovering high over the immaculately resplendant green field surrounded by a moat-like, burgundy coloured running track, two small dots proceed towards the painstakingly prepared central stage. For the next few minutes this will be the nucleus of the entire universe.
As the live feed switches from air to ground we receive our first close-ups of these two legendary performers. One is debonair, handsome, with a windswept mystical air. The other is shorter, older, sporting a goatee beard pampered and manicured for the occassion. He carries, tucked under his left arm, a thin board no more than 1x1/2 metres in dimension. These entertainment giants require no introduction. We all know WHO they are, we all know WHY they're here.
Their purpose appears superficially simple. To sing a song. A duet.
Hush.....hush.
The murmuring fades. The encompassing silence is intruded upon only by the fluttering sound of the recalcitrant streamers, glistening and dancing upon the artificial thermals generated by the combined breath and body heat of the tightly packed, sticky stadium audience. As the spellbound world gazes on in hypnotic wonderment, the splendour and occassion boils down to one question......ONE question. It flits through the minds of billions, teasing, tormenting and agonising. "What will they sing.......WHAT will they sing?"
Whatever it will be it must send forth a message of hope and unity that can be easily and immediately interpreted and adopted by cultures all over the globe. A stirring, emotional plea with international appeal for goodwill, compassion and empathy, A song which will grasp the passion, dedication and commitment of the hoards of assembled athletes. Something so inspirationally uplifting it will blow a gargantuan raspberry at "Imagine" and "Wind Beneath My Wings".THE PLANETARY ANTHEM FOR THE NEW MILLENNIUM!
And we wait. And we wait. For what seems like an indeterminable length of time. Quite long in fact.
Then. A low wobbly noise begins. Its volume intensifies as it is picked up by the battery of microphones burdening the podium. Slowly at first. Wobble....wobble....wobble. It gradually gathers speed, wobble..wobble..wobble..wobble. The crescendo peaks in volume and intensity as it adopts the sound of a demented helicopter rotor, wobble.wobble.wobble.wobble.wobble. That famous toothy grin and knowing wink from the bearded one towards his handsome companion, wobblewobblewobblewobble.
The taller performer, coolness personified, takes one confident step closer to the microphone array. He stares longingly into the camera which will beam this heart-melting image into the living rooms and minds of our planet. He inhales, deeply. Exacting the last painstaking microsecond of apprehension. Milking the moment to its very core. Billions of hearts cease to beat, there is a disturbance in the cosmos and then........
"You put your left leg in,
your left leg out,
in, out,
in, out,
you shake it all about........"
Do you think Juan Antonio Samaranch(IOC president) visits this site?
T.P.U. xxx