FREEMAN

I watched Freeman, the documentary a week ago and a more perfect documentary you couldn't get. But then, how could it not be everything that it was.

For me, it is/was THE sporting event in my lifetime, and possibly beyond.

It really felt like another time, the year 2000 was something else.

A new millennium, I was headed towards 30, single and out of a horrifically bad relationship and settling in my new life beautifully. 9/11 hadn't happened, the world hadn't changed, looking back, it seemed a simpler, kinder time.

Whilst I am not a big sporty person, I have always loved the Olympics, I like the pomp and ceremony and the dreams coming true aspect of it, and most of the sports involved do actually interest me.

I remember being really worried about the opening ceremony, I was worried we would embarrass ourselves on the world stage. There can be a jingoistic, cheap side to our culture I do not like. I need not have been concerned.

I invited my sisters over to watch and for dinner, and we settled in for the night.

From that first crack of the whip of the stockman on that stunning horse I knew we were going to be ok. The hairs on my arms stood still, I got shivers, and tears welled in my eyes. The first person I thought of was my maternal grandfather, a lover of horses and Banjo Paterson, he would have loved to see this spectacle.

The thought of that single moment will always rip at my heart and soul every single time.

It was one of those perfect ceremonial openings that raised the bar and then some. We would end up being the gold standard that I don't think anyone has really reached.

It made me think back to the first Olympics that really made me take note, 1984 in LA. We watched the opening and my mind was blown by hundreds of white grand pianos playing Rhapsody in Blue. I know a lot of people said it was crass and a spectacle of too much wealth and privilege and possibly that is correct, but as a young 13 year old I was transfixed. A lifelong love of Gershwin, grand pianos, over-sized spectacles, and of course The Olympics, was born.

I also love a great surprise, something unexpected, and when Debbie Flintoff-King handed the torch to Catherine Freeman, we all lost our minds. It was truly unexpected, she was the superstar of these games, shouldn't she be resting!?

But how magnificent it was to see her glide up those stairs, carrying the flame high. Not just for the Sydney team, but for all Australians, and entire aboriginal peoples. She herself, would go on, to say her heritage carried her forward during those games.

It was one of those perfect moments in history, and in time. When she waded into the water and lit that flame, it was a victory for everyone who ever shed a tear or suffered racism or any kind of setback in life. 

The moment was incredible. The pride and joy on her face, I felt within the heavy beating of my heart.

And then, a week later, on that balmy night, we all held our breath...

I remember thinking about it all day, there was such a build up, I felt almost sick with anticipation. I had been such a fan of Cathy and her glorious unbridled spirit, I wanted her to win unlike I had ever wanted anything - out of my control - before. There had been so much drama around this race, and she had worked so hard leading up to it. 

She was the volcano ready to explode.

But that pressure must have been enormous, what if she cracked under that pressure? 

Every part of me was willing her on...along with every single other person watching that race.

You could feel the atmosphere crack through the television, it was eerie and exciting and chilling. I've never really experienced anything like that, nor since.

There was that powerful moment when she reveals her 'controversial' running suit, pulls on the hoodie and zips it up - the determination, the concentration, the breathing, that suit - she meant business!!!

When the 'gun' pops the start of the race, I thought my heart would explode.

When it looked like she might not make it, I think my heart skipped a beat.

But, that was never going to happen, of course she won.

She freakin' romped it in, those long long legs looking like they were not even touching the ground.

The relief and excitement was palpable.

I cannot even begin to imagine the enormity of that moment for her, and for her Aboriginal people. Everything about that evening, that race, and Catherine was simply perfect.

The brilliance of the documentary is that it has Cathy talking you through every step, and it takes you back to that night in a heart beat. And even thought you know the outcome, you feel exactly the same re-watching it all, tears welling up and flooding down your face.

My favourite quote was that she felt 'tranquil and calm' walking into the race.

And the most emotional moment was her describing her people carrying her along to win. 

She captured our hearts, and our memories.

She showed us the very best an Australian could be.

We need more of that right now!!