SAINT-DENIS, France — There’s one section of the Stade de France and it’s the most glorious, rowdiest of sections.
This particular swath of seats stands alone—but nobody who sits there does. They sit directly above one corner of the track, right about where 200-meter sprinters make their turn and, critically on Monday night, right above the pole vault pit.
As the men’s Olympic final stretched into its fourth hour, those denizens, track’s bleacher creatures, got the hour-long sequence they deserved. They packed into the stands and behind them, standing room growing from three deep to four to five.
Down below, six photographers sat to the right of the pit, almost underneath it, alongside a gaggle of officials and camera operators. The event seemed to be nearing its end. It wasn’t even close to finished.
There went Ernest John Obiena of the Philippines, the most exuberant among the finalists. He had cleared 5.90 meters (roughly 19.4 feet) a few minutes earlier, then celebrated with wiggling hips and something in the neighborhood of finger guns. His first go at 5.95 meters (roughly 19.5 feet) ended when he basically landed on the bar. The crowd gasped, all at once, then clapped loudly, as if it wanted to console him.
U.S. pole vaulter Sam Kendricks went next, and he went right over the bar stationed at that height. Next: Armand Duplantis, his family of Swedish origin, his pole vault prowess born and bred on the Louisiana bayou. Mondo is what they call him. He cleared 6.0 meters (roughly 19.7 feet) with ease.
Kendricks walked over to congratulate him on (yet another) successful attempt. A television crew swung by, filming from the lower stands. Greek competitor Emmanouil Karalis then took his final turn, failing to launch after planting his pole, walking away, shaking his head.
Vault fans—they exist, and they’re rabid—put their feet atop the bottom railing on the barricades, straining for a better view. Mondo sprinted down the runway, vaulted into the air, sailing over the bar—his version of wash, rinse, triumph.
Kendricks went again; this time, attempting 6.0 meters. A scratch.
The bar in this instance was electronic, held by two non-vaulting poles. As it moved up and down, the poles lit up, purple fading into pink and back to purple. Karalis scratched again. Now only two competitors remained alive, in sports betting parlance, for the final. Kendricks took another turn and scratched a second time.
In this lower section of the stadium, hands clutched phones, all cameras trained the same direction: on the pit. Kendricks approached for the final time at 6.0. He didn’t clear the bar. Mondo had already won gold.
Because he is Mondo, pole vault pioneer—an all-time great among the very best competitors who ever attempted this oddest of track disciplines—he then turned to a concept few superstars are ever skilled enough to consider. Why not add to gold? His competition shifted at that moment, toward history and himself. His aim: a ninth world record, which would break his eight world records—and, by age 24, no less.
Everyone in the lower bowl strained for a better view. More humans filtered in, inching forward, photographers and camera operators and fans from all over the world. The clapping started to sound like drum beats. Fans started sitting on those barricades.
The bar went down, like an elevator, then back up, even higher than before. Down again. The lights began to flash in rainbow patterns, then fade back to purple. Up once more. That bar, at that point, was almost as high as the poles holding it extended toward the sky.
Necks craned. Photographers steadied, messing with their lenses. A camera shot up, stopping near the bar itself.
Mondo sprinted once more. Pushed his yellow pole into the purple track underfoot. Vaulted, like a spaceship rocketing toward the moon. Leaned. And … cleared. He rose and walked toward that very same rowdy grandstand, held up one finger, flexed and roared. He had vaulted over the bar at 6.10 meters (roughly 20.1 feet, once the highest of high marks in his discipline).
Here it was, a sporting rarity: an event where the impossible was all but expected, and then, somehow, still unfolded, pretty much exactly how everyone had hoped.
Photographers who had gotten up scurried back into position. Others also now slid into position, lining the top step of the grandstand.
Someone rang the bell directly down below. The pole lit up in a rainbow. Then purple. Bar down. Bar up. It didn’t appear that the bar could rise much higher. The lines at the barricades grew six, seven, eight people deep in spots. A wave cheer swung through the grandstands.
Mondo had the world record in his sights. He set the previous record on April 20, in Xiamen, China, breaking his own previous mark with a vault of 6.24 meters (roughly 20.5 feet). Here, he sprinted, vaulted and didn’t quite clear. He picked up his pole, genuine disappointment spreading across his face—genuine disappointment, to be clear, in not clearing a height beyond anything anyone else had ever cleared.
The crowd cheered anyway, then broke into a chant. Mon-do! Mon-do! Mon-do!
Bar up. Bar down. Mondo, sprinting down the runway. Mondo, up but still not over.
One final attempt remained. Glory. Or even more glory. That was the calculus he faced.
Bar up. Bar down. Only now, with dramatic music, a symphony building toward crescendo. Hands clasped. Cheers rang. Phones perched in thousands of hands. LOUD ENVIRONMENT alerts pinged on Apple watches.
Clap, clap, clap. Mondo! Mondo! Mondo!
He rumbled down that runway, as an entire stadium hoped the same thing, at the same time. Pole met pit. His body elevated, higher and higher, twisting, as he continued ascending, until Mondo and his body cleared that bar with just enough room so as not to displace it.
Earlier that afternoon, this pole vault pioneer had sat down in the infield. Mondo bent backward on the track, until both his back and his shoulders lay flat on the ground, face pointed toward the sky. A bench propped up his legs. In all likelihood, he was stretching. But for a moment, as this image flashed across the video screens at both ends of the stadium, he looked like an Olympian … who was ready … mid-competition … to nap.
A few hours later, he went for and secured that world record, clearing 6.25 meters as those in the lower section danced deliriously, strangers hugging strangers, masses forming an instant party by the pit. That’s the funny part. He really could have slept until then.
This article was originally published on www.si.com as The Legend of Pole Vault King Mondo Duplantis Grows.
