The 100. The 200. The finger point. The shhhhhhhh. The bow and arrow. Over-the-top? Yes. Funny? Totally. Obnoxious? Borderline. But unforgettable, all of it. Zuma Press

You loved him. Come on. If you offer an objection, I'm not buying it for a moment. It's a pose. It's what you think you're supposed to say, but you don't really feel it. If we cut you open and investigate, those bright red insides of yours will reveal the truth. And the truth is you have adored every second of him. How could you not?


The push-ups. (The push-ups were truly the best)


Usain Bolt celebrates winning gold in the men's 200 meter final. SIPA/Newscom

But unforgettable, all of it.

The Jamaican sprinter Usain Bolt is not to be missed at these 2012 Summer Olympics in London. He has won gold medals in the 100 and 200 meters, breaking his own Olympic record in the first event, and getting pretty close in the second; he would have broken his 200 mark Thursday night had he not stopped to order a macchiato and take a phone call with 30 meters to go.

In a Games rich with thrilling moments, Bolt towers above all. He has embraced the world's attention, as if it charges him and propels his stride. A week ago, there had been speculation that Bolt was about to lose his title as the World's Fastest Human, but seven days have made that conjecture sound ridiculous. Everyone who came to London was running for second place. Deep second place. You got a silver medal, and, for the rest of your life, you get to be in a lot of Usain Bolt posters.

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He's fast. It's official, again.

Still, the most satisfying part of Bolt—even more than his brilliant runs—is how much he demolishes the myth that the world wants humble athletes. This is the belief that superstars are supposed to always carry themselves as paragons of modesty, never calling the spotlight to themselves, never crossing some bright, imaginary line that exists dividing the attention-deserving from the attention-seeking.

This is also known as The Boring Line.

The Boring Line is a big deal in sports. It's a frothy topic on talk radio after every silly scoring celebration or overly demonstrative occasion on a field or a court. Violations of The Boring Line are good for manufactured outrage and highlight shows, and they make social media go crazy.

But the Boring Line is tedious. I have been hearing about how excessive celebrations are ruining sports as long as I have been watching sports. So have you. It made little sense then and makes less sense now. It's not ruining anything. You like this stuff or you don't; a fancy end-zone dance is definitely not everyone's favorite thing, and I'm sure it's pushed some fans away from the game. But these are the kind of people who hate pizza and scream at dogs.

What's great about Bolt is that he crashes over this line and nobody cares. He's just too good. The finger pointing, the shhhhh, the push-ups, the bow and arrow, the underappreciated somersault he did after the 100 last Sunday—he does all the things you're allegedly not supposed to do.

Doesn't matter. Earth loves Bolt.

Usain Bolt holds up a 'Wenlock' London 2012 Olympics mascot. Reuters

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It helps that Bolt loves Earth, too,and does everything with a wink.

He possesses a light, showman's touch, and even when post-win celebrations are choreographed, they're clever. His signature bow and arrow thunder has a touch of whimsy—an exaggerated sense of the moment, not to mention a nod to his last name. It's so clear Bolt feeds off the theater of it all, the joy he provokes, converting the cauldron of flashbulbs inside Olympic Stadium into energy.

But he also moves to his own, amusing inner clock. I have reached the point—and I believe I am not alone—at which I almost enjoy watching Bolt run a heat as much as a final (I said almost). Finals provide history, but heats offer the entertaining sight of Bolt regulating his Bolt-ness. Watching him back off in his 200 meters semifinal was hilarious. People have run more spiritedly down the aisle on "The Price is Right." Bolt draws back, like a sommelier realizing he's accidentally poured an expensive bottle the customer didn't order. Hold on, he seems to be saying. You'll get the good stuff later.

There will be some who argue that winning exonerates everything, and that Bolt's personality wouldn't be so intoxicating if he was finishing second. To this, I'd say: you're right.

But this is another truth that Usain Bolt, who runs a final time Saturday as part of Jamaica's 4x100 relay, exposes. For all our belief in humility, for all the veneration of the modest and supposedly modest, there is no visual in sports quite as satisfying as the called shot—the athlete who says he or she will go out and do it, and then does it. There's no use denying the thrill of a boast delivered. It is as fun as it gets. Bolt acts like it's the greatest thing we've ever seen, because it kind of is the greatest thing we've ever seen.

Let's not pretend. He's Usain Bolt, and you approve his message.