Rio de Janeiro - The medal goes to the athlete. As it should. But, if it were at all possible, just about every medallist would love to share a piece of the glory with the people who get them on the podium.
On Saturday night, South Africans fell in love with the tale of Luvo Manyonga. He fell down to the bottom, and now he's here.
A silver medallist who missed out on gold by the tiniest margin in the mens long jump.
As he surged to the top of the pile, with a leap of 8,37m, Manyonga sought out the biggest smile in the stadium.
Coach Daniel Cornelius, in his yellow top, glistened like the Copacabana at first light, knowing they were in business.
“F*ck yeah!,” “Coach Neil” whisper-screamed to himself, before unleashing one of the proudest faces seen at Rio 2016.
“I knew he had a medal. I thought he had gold,” Cornelius admitted.
What the world didn't hear is the conversation the pair had when Manyonga over stepped consecutively, when he wasn't in the medals yet.
“Don't worry coach, I've got this,” he said after the first no jump.”
Cornelius was calm, because the opening jump of the night had settled a lot of nerves.
“That was the key. Once he got that first one, I knew he would be fine.”
The last thing a coach wants to be doing on medal night is over-coach. By then, the work is done, and his job is to keep his prized asset calm.
After the second no jump, Cornelius was getting a bit edgy.
“Have you still got this?,” he enquired.
The reply that followed confirmed to “Coach Neil” that this was time. Time to sit back and embrace what was about to hit them; the reward of a rehabilitation story that is the stuff of movie scripts.
“I was just too happy. So so happy. He's made us all so proud.”
The pride is elevated because of where Manyonga came from.
“There were thousands of these demons, trying to get me down,” Manyonga explained yesterday.
“I didn't sleep. How can I possibly sleep? I come to my first Olympic Games and they give me a silver medal,” he joked.
Cornelius knows only too well about a lack of sleep.
Staying in the unheralded Silver Hotel, miles away from the searing lights of the Stadio Olimpico, living off movies, McDonald's and a pertinent craving for Saturday night to unfold.
Cornelius insists he knew that something special was going to happen, because Manyonga was ready. He had nothing else in his mind. Rio could have been Mongolia, because the only thing that mattered were those six, previous leaps.
“My friends assume I'm on holiday, going to all the tourist sites. But I've been sitting in the room, trying to watch movies, and be as normal as possible.”
The wait was worth it, though, and it was ironic that, deep into Saturday night, the man who has spent more time with Manyonga than anyone else over the past year couldn't access him.
“I've been looking for him for an hour. I just want to hug him because I am so proud of him!”
It's been an incredible journey, one that took them around the world, including Rome, where Manyonga was startled by a full stadium watching him for the first time.
“Rome didn't give us a title, but it was perfect practice for the Olympics because it prepared him for that crowd.
“He's so confident, and he uses the crowd as energy. You saw him here, he lifted the crowd, and then they lifted him,” Cornelius smiled.
That crowd and, more pertinently, Coach Neil and Sascoc lifted Manyonga out of a dark place in Mbekweni, when some would have looked the other way.
On Saturday night, Manyonga lifted all of them sky high in return, touching delirious heights, and proving that with the right backing, a man can change his stripes.
Independent Media