2-76（在线收听）

76.

A few weeks later, after more than a year of talking and planning, thinking and worrying, seventhousand fans packed into the Queen Elizabeth Olympic Park for the opening ceremony. TheInvictus Games were born.

It had been decided that the International Warrior Games was a tongue twister, a mouthful. Aclever Royal Marine had then come up with this far better alternative.

As soon as he suggested it we all said: Of course! After the William Ernest Henley poem!

Every Brit knew that poem. Many had the first line by heart.

Out of the night that covers me…

And what schoolboy or schoolgirl didn’t encounter at least once those sonorous final lines?

I am the master of my fate,

I am the captain of my soul.

Minutes before my speech at the opening ceremony, I stood in the wings, holding notecards inmy hands, which were visibly shaking. Before me, the podium looked like a gallows. I read mycards over and over, while nine Red Arrows did a flypast, streaming smoke colored red, white andblue. Then Idris Elba read “Invictus,” maybe as well as anyone ever has, and then MichelleObama, via satellite, said some eloquent words about the meaning of the games. Finally, sheintroduced me.

Long walk. Through a red-carpeted labyrinth. My cheeks looked red-carpeted as well. Mysmile was frozen, the fight-or-flight response in full effect. I scolded myself under my breath forbeing this way. These games were celebrating men and women who’d lost limbs, pushed theirbodies to the limit and beyond, and here I was freaking out about a little speech.

But it wasn’t my fault. Anxiety, by this point, was controlling my body, my life. And thisspeech, which I believed meant so much to so many, couldn’t help but exacerbate my condition.

Plus, the producer told me as I walked onstage that we were running behind on time. Ah, great,something else to think about. Thanks.

As I reached the lectern, which I’d personally and carefully positioned, I berated myself,because it afforded a perfect view of all the competitors. All those trusting, wholesome, expectantfaces — counting on me. I forced myself to look away, to look at nothing. Hurrying, hyper-conscious of the clock, I bleated out: For some of those taking part this will be a stepping-stone toelite sport. But for others it will mark the end of a chapter in their recovery and the beginning of anew one.

I went and found my seat, down front, beside Pa, who put a hand on my shoulder. Well done,darling boy. He was being kind. He knew I’d rushed the speech. For once I was glad not to hearthe raw truth from him.

Just on the numbers, Invictus was a hit. Two million people watched on TV, thousands filledthe arenas for each event. Among the highlights, for me, was the wheelchair rugby final, Britainversus America, thousands of fans cheering Britain on to victory in the Copper Box.

Wherever I went that week, people came up to me, shook my hand, told me their stories.

Children, parents, grandparents, always with tears in their eyes, told me that these games hadrestored something they’d feared forever lost: the true spirit of a son, a daughter, a brother, asister, a mum, a dad. One woman tapped me on the shoulder and told me I’d resurrected herhusband’s smile.

Oh, that smile, she said. I hadn’t seen it since he got injured.

I knew Invictus would do some good in the world, I always knew, but I was caught off guardby this wave of appreciation and gratitude. And joy.

Then came the emails. Thousands, each more moving than the last.

I’ve had a broken back for five years, but after watching these brave men and women I’ve gotoff the sofa today and I’m ready to begin again.

I’ve been suffering depression since returning from Afghanistan but this demonstration ofhuman courage and resilience has made me see…At the closing ceremony, moments after I introduced Dave Grohl and the Foo Fighters, a manand woman approached, their young daughter between them. The daughter was wearing a pinkhoodie and orange ear defenders. She looked up at me: Thank you for making my daddy…Daddyagain.

He’d won a gold medal.

Just one problem, she said. She couldn’t see the Foo Fighters.

Ah well, we can’t have that!

I lifted her onto my shoulders and together the four of us watched, danced, sang, andcelebrated being alive.

It was my thirtieth birthday.