Chad le Clos: World record set, it's back to racing the clock

Tick, tick, tick.

Outside the open-air pool at the Singapore Sports School the sky is cut by lightning; inside the arena a streak of aquatic genius is about to flash before us. Chad le Clos is eager, he jogs to lane two, splashes water on his face and body, as if purifying himself.

On the blocks he is still, the water is still, the clock is still. There is nothing to suggest a world record. Nothing except a voice in his head which tells him he is ready.

In white shorts on Monday, le Clos is any other fresh-faced kid. In a swimsuit on Tuesday, he assumes his other identity - butterfly behemoth. He cannot promise a record, but the chase of it is profound in itself. It is daring to believe he can go not just faster than the 7.22 billion people on the planet but all those who came before.

The Olympic gold, which le Clos owns, can never be stolen, but the world record will be. No one keeps it, no one is sure how long they will keep it. But it is a marker of human endeavour, it is single-handedly taking a species further, and this is what makes it weighty. The Olympic gold is mostly about being faster than the next man; the world record is about becoming faster than any man ever.

Tick, tick, tick.

After 50m, the crowd is looking at le Clos rather than the scoreboard where the electronic timer is dancing rapidly. There is no smell of history yet, except Graham Hill, his coach, is sitting in the stands like a man waiting for his child to be delivered.

Human beings adore records, even if it is "most toilet seats broken by the head in one minute" and "most steps walked by a dog balancing a glass of water". But it is fastest, highest, longest, toughest that compels us most. One day there will be a point beyond which a human cannot go, but le Clos is about to tell us it has not been found in the water.

The world record, in any sport, irrespective of how often it might arrive, is always uncommon because it is a flirtation with perfection. It is why we watch sport, not just for the winning but for the improbable.

Who knows what we might see? Records are broken by fractions, yet on Oct 18, 1969, Bob Beamon shatters the long jump record by one foot, nine and three-quarter inches (55cm). Records come sporadically, yet on May 25, 1935, Jesse Owens breaks three athletic world records and ties a fourth in 45 minutes.

You never know in sport, you only hope. It is why I am in the stands with an eye on le Clos. Because this is Singapore, where the world record is rare. And so to have a chance to be in attendance to see mankind at its best is a privilege.

Tick, tick, tick.

After 100m, Le Clos is .49 of a second under the world record. After 150m, it is .50. By now this race has split into two competitions. The first involves seven men racing each other for second place. The second involves le Clos, out there, ahead, in his own undisturbed water, racing alone against a clock he cannot see but a time he can surely feel.

The world record lifts nations and as the grand runner Haile Gebrselassie once tells the New York Times: "Many people know that Ethiopia is poor. When I break a world record, maybe people get to know something else about Ethiopia, something good."

Now, in Singapore, the prospect of the world record is at least raising a crowd's volume. Under the water, the cheers are music to le Clos: He says he hears them, he says they tell him his pace is good. It's not merely good, it's faster than even Hill imagines.

Later, the coach tells me, he expected 1min 48.7sec, but le Clos times 1:48.56.

He touches, his coach whistles, the boy waves, later they embrace. It has taken him less than two minutes to make history but it is a false number. In fact, it has taken le Clos and Hill thousands of hours to get here. I quiz him about this mighty truth of having done something no human has and he answers in the lingo of his age. "Very, very cool".

Le Clos on Tuesday recorded his second world record, Michael Phelps finished with 39 and it is one of those the South African is already eyeing. So is Hill, who says: "There can be more."

For now there are only autograph hunters and le Clos obliges. Then, medal worn, he is gone, but he will return soon to the water. on Tuesday he beat the clock, today as he resumes his endless race against time it starts again.

Tick, tick, tick.

rohitb@sph.com.sg

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