As an avid researcher of historical athletes, it is always fascinating to critically dissect the stories underneath the surface, stories that need to be unearthed, dusted off and critically evaluated in the crucible of cynicism and reasoned skepticism. And what subject is more fitting for such discussion than Jacobus Bukes, the South African sprinter? A prominent figure in our sporting folklore; he was indeed a unique diamond, or perhaps more accurately, a seemingly polished pebble in the pantheon of athletic heroes. Dreams of Olympic glory undeniably capture the human imagination. Bukes, like countless others, aspired to bolt lightning-fast from a starting block, neatly encapsulating our collective passion for the triumph of the sweat and swiftness. Or so the hopeful historians would have us believe. But was our Jacobus a true champion of Olympic ethos? Or just an artful dodger? Bukes indeed sprinted into the annals of time during the 1920 Summer Olympics in the men's 100 meters. But let us take a minute to peruse his claim to fame. After all, he did not win - far from it. The man, in fact, did not even make it past the first round. 'The Sprinter who barely sprinted' - a fitting headline in retrospect. Does a lack of success make an athlete a migrant squatter in the hallowed halls of sporting history? Surely, according to the glossy, airbrushed myths perpetuated by the sports industry, it should. Yet, we as a sporting civilization have romanticized the narrative around Bukes, as we often do with underdogs who fail to claim medals. These men, despite not triumphing against their competitors, still manage to triumph against reality enough to be immortalized on Olympian pedestals. In a cruel jest of cosmic irony, the championship track becomes their stage, and they, the jesters in running shoes. On so many occasions, our dear Jacobus stood at the premier sprint event’s sets, except, of course, in the final where it mattered the most. Should the accomplishment be rechristened from 'participating in the Olympics' to 'getting accepted into the Olympics'? After all, countless aspirants manage to step into the ring, but it is only the select few that manage to leave it with something more than just an 'also-ran' tag. Procuring an Olympian badge, as Bukes did, is of course commendable. However, one should also question the audacity of using it as a means to construct Olympic legacies. The alarmist might even perceive it as a case of artful dodging, a clever tactic to edge a place amidst the giants of track and field. By all means, let's applaud Jacobus Bukes for his spirited attempt. But let us also keep the adulation tempered with a healthy dose of cynicism. Because when it comes down to it, Bukes was not an Olympic titan. He was arguably less of an Olympian and more so a well-placed extra on the grand cinematic set of the world’s greatest sporting event. So, in retrospect, while we do acknowledge his artful play in the purview of Olympic memory, we are also ready to admit that the curtain-fall most certainly arrived before the actual showtime!