A Shot At History: My Obsessive Journey to Olympic Gold

by Abhinav Bindra

has happened, a microphone is in your face. Why? What happened? Did you choke? Understandably, these were journalists doing their job, but so many questions were absent of any logic and intelligence—sport being broken down into neatly packaged sound bites, which it never can be. Everyone had a reason for my defeat, a theory. Some insisted the pressure had tilted my hand. I didn’t agree. Some believed I had burnt all my energy in the qualification. I wasn’t sure. Coach Thomas told the media that since I battled through qualification, with many of the shots just a 10.0, I was simply ‘lucky’ to get into the final. I didn’t agree. You don’t get ‘lucky’ in shooting. You don’t hit a target by fluke, like a shot off the net cord. Some argued my parents had distracted me. I didn’t agree. My parents can be present at an event, but I’m locked into another universe of focus. Anyway, their faith in me shakes me, moves me, it never pressures me. Divya, who wept for days but never in front of me, said it was not meant to be, and was a warrior. When a journalist tossed a snide remark at me after my dope test—‘very bad