10 times in five days before Friday night, Leon Marchand had climbed out of the La Defense pool and barely had time to breathe, a cool-down to be done, sleep to be snatched, another race soon to be swum.
But at last, on the 11th, he stopped and soaked it in. He raised arms aloft, then clasped hands in thanks, for the part this crowd and this country have played in the week of a young man’s life.
Four events, four gold medals and here, in romping to the last of them in the 200m individual medley, very nearly a world record to boot. There is pressure enough as the poster boy of a home Olympics, without the need for such an audacious attempt, but how he has worn it and pulled it off.
Marchand's closest pursuer on the night was Britain’s Duncan Scott, a silver medal adding to gold in the 4x200m freestyle relay earlier in the week and taking his career tally to eight, behind only Sir Jason Kenny in the nation’s Olympic history. And there was more British success, 50m freestyle silver for Ben Proud finally completing the sprinter’s championship set.
But still, this did not come close to being anything other than Marchand’s night, again, and even with nine days and some of sport’s biggest stars to come, we can say with utmost certainty that these will go down as his Games.
In truth, the greatest obstacle had already been overcome on Wednesday, ‘Magique Mercredi’ as it had been dubbed, though Miraculeux would have done just as well. There is a reason organisers put the finals of the 200m breaststroke and butterfly two hours apart on the same night: it is simply not a double that is done.
In winning both, Marchand had already done what even Michael Phelps never managed, becoming a solo Olympic champion twice in one session.
The scenes and sounds of central Paris that evening usually come about in London only during major football tournaments, every bar, restaurant and cafe suddenly set up with a screen, every French man and woman in the city cheering their lad home in joyous disbelief.
Even with nine days and some of sport’s biggest stars to come, we can say with utmost certainty that these will go down as Marchand’s Games
This was, by comparison, the victory lap, the equivalent of the Tour de France leader’s toddle down the Champs-Elysees. Really, Marchand should have come out wearing yellow trunks.
Beforehand, Paris was abuzz, one of the nation’s other most popular sportsmen and opening ceremony flagbearer Teddy Riner having won judo gold in the afternoon. Into the evening, there were more than 70,000 people at the Stade de France for the opening night of track and field finals, but nothing ran this close as the hottest ticket in town.
By the time gates opened, the queue of ticket holders snaked the half-kilometre back to La Grande Arche. Emmanuel Macron probably did not have to wait among them, but the French president was here, as was Sir Andy Murray, on the first night of his retirement.
This was slated to be the most fast and furious session of the entire meet, three finals booked just a quarter of an hour apart. From the moment Florent Manaudou was introduced for the first, the 50-free, there was almost ceaseless noise, the Frenchman stood on his block orchestrating a thunderclap while the rest of the field disrobed.
Manaudou swam brilliantly, snatching bronze from out in lane one, as Proud charged up the centre to at last claim his first Olympic medal, sure to sit nicely among the hatful collected over the years from Europeans, Commonwealths and Worlds.
The champion, though, and quickest of the quick was Cameron McEvoy, Australia’s men at last getting in on what, to that point, had been a supreme sister act to take the nation’s swimming tally to six golds. Within minutes it was seven, Kaylee McKeown downing the Olympic record to defend her 200m backstroke crown.
And then suddenly, it was time. The rituals are all by now familiar, the ‘Allez!’ at every head-bob, the roar at every turn. At the Stade de France, so many people were watching on phones and going wild that the decathlon 400m had to be delayed.
It is not to take anything away from four strokes with hardly a weakness, but there still is nothing quite impressive as Marchand’s kick off the wall, a monster disappearing below the water for a moment and invariably emerging another half-length clear. Thank heavens for underwater cameras.
Scott swam home in typically storming freestyle fashion, but Marchand was already away and gone, a time of 1:54.06 taking the Olympic record off Phelps.
In chasing this individual quadpot, the 22-year-old has given France a string of wonderful nights and given up the scope to fully enjoy some of them himself. After winning that double gold on Wednesday night, he slept for only four hours before getting back in the water for another morning heat.
So, go now Leon, enjoy it, paint the town a tricolour of red, white and blue. Paris, and these Olympics, are yours.
