B1. Jamaica's Winter Olympic Team & CRASH at 140km/h 🏅 Inspiring
May 11, 2026 • Tristan Palumbo
🧰 My Words
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Today is one of my favourite stories ever, and it's based on true events.
On the hot Caribbean island of Jamaica, there was a young man called Jason.
Now Jason was a fast runner.
Jason stood at the edge of a running track, arms folded, watching the other sprinters run past.
He had an idea. A strange one. A good one.
"Bobsled!" he said.
His friend Andre jogged over with a big smile. "Bob what? That's a fishing boat, mon."
"It's a sled," Jason said, "On ice. They race them at the Winter Olympics."
Andre laughed loudly, slapping his knee.
"Ice! We don't have ice, mon. This is Jamaica. We have beach, we have rum, we have fun."
"And we have speed," said Jason. "We have muscles in our legs. Look at his legs, bro." Jason pointed as a sprinter flew past. "His legs are what matter, boy!"
At home, Jason told his wife about his idea.
She spat out her tea.
"You're a sprinter who never made the Olympic team," she said. "Now you want to try the bobsled, you call it. Everyone will laugh, darling."
But Jason's mind was made up. "Wife, you are looking at Jamaica's first Winter Olympian." His wife giggled.
"Now let me tell you what a bobsled is. The bobsled is a winter sport. Four men push a big metal sled on ice. They race the bobsled down a hill as fast as they can — faster than a car at top speed."
The transcript in 50 languages is on my site. Let's go back to the story where Jason wants to make a bobsled team.
Jason went to the public running track and asked sprinters to join his team. He watched the best ones. Some sprinters thought he was being crazy, but a few listened.
Jamaica had a global reputation for fast sprinters. Jason and Andre found two more sprinters to join their team — who had terrifically fast legs, but had no idea how to bobsled.
On the small Caribbean island of Jamaica, there was no bobsled. There was no ice. There was not even any snow.
To practice, the four boys made a wooden cart with wheels.
And they pushed it down a hill. They drove it down a hill as the locals watched and had a good laugh. And the children ran alongside them, cheering. But usually the boys lost control of the cart by the bottom and all fell out everywhere.
They looked ridiculous, but they were learning.
So the 1988 Winter Olympics were in Calgary, which is in Canada.
And the boys needed money to fly there. So they knocked on every door in Kingston. They sold food on the street. And Andre borrowed money from his sister that she was saving for her wedding. And finally, they had enough money to fly.
As they stepped out of the Canadian airport, the cold hit them like a brick wall in the face. The outside temperature was minus 23 Celsius. Snowy, windy.
"Boys," Andre said, "we are not in Jamaica anymore."
The four men stared at the frozen landscape, shocked.
They looked down at their fingers that had gone numb in seconds. And for the first time, they could see their own breath.
They arrived at the bobsled track.
It curved down the mountain like a frozen snake. It was so high and so much bigger than they had seen on TV.
Nearby, they saw the other teams warming up in sleek suits, expensive sleds, quiet confidence. You had Germany, Switzerland, Russia.
They whispered and pointed at the dark-skinned Jamaican boys who seemed confused and didn't know where to go.
The Jamaicans borrowed a sled that had no paint on it. It was just ugly, grey steel, dented, old.
So they practiced. And their first practice run was just a disaster.
They wobbled from the start and their sled banged from one side to the other. Their sled went way faster than any of them had imagined. And they hit nearly every wall in the track, but they made it to the bottom.
The other teams were just like, "What?" Just looking in disbelief.
Nobody helped them. Then the Swiss coach approached them. He said, "Jamaica, go home, Jamaica, before somebody — before you hurt yourself."
You see, bobsledding is a dangerous sport and competitors have died in the past.
But Jason pulled himself out of the sled and his ribs ached.
He looked at his teammates and they looked at him — eyes wide with fear, like, "What are we doing, mon?"
"Again!" he said.
They tried again. They banged into the walls again, like amateurs. But every time they practiced, they learned something new. They learned how to lean together, how to shift weight together, how to trust each other.
Jason was the driver at the front and he memorised the whole track — he had completely remembered every turn.
They practiced together all night, all sitting in a line on the hotel room floor. And Jason would be at the front. "Left," he'd say. They all leaned left. "Hard right," Jason said. They all leaned right.
Tomorrow was the qualifying run.
The boys had just one chance to make the time.
They had to cross the line in under 59 seconds. And their best so far was two seconds longer — 61 seconds.
This was their chance.
All four of them stood at the top of the track next to the bobsled, holding the handles nervously.
Jason was at the front. "We got this, boys. Ready?"
The green light switched on.
"Push!" And they pushed the bobsled with all their strength. Their feet were slipping on the ice. Their arms were burning. They all jumped in perfectly, one by one. And the sled shot forward.
And the whole world — all shapes around them — became a blur of white and grey and screaming wind.
Their start was fast! Then the bobsled hit the side once, it hit the side twice.
But the rest of the run went as well as it could. When they crossed the finish line, the four boys looked up at the board.
It was blank. One second passed. Two seconds passed. Three. Their hearts were in their mouths.
Then a number flashed on the board.
58 seconds, 96.
Woo!
They did it! The boys jumped out of the sled. They hugged each other. They called their parents.
Newspapers interviewed them. And they spoke on radio shows all around the Olympic village and all around Calgary.
The first Jamaican bobsled team. And they weren't just the first Jamaican bobsled team, but the first from all of the Caribbean Islands.
The sponsors gave them a new sled, painted in the colours of Jamaica.
And the boys stood proudly in their new uniforms and helmets.
Some weeks later, the Winter Olympics began.
Jason was with his team at the top of the track.
Thousands of people below them, cheering, and the ice track waiting — sharp and unforgiving.
Thousands of people looked up at them, all wearing thick jackets in the cold. But the atmosphere buzzed with noise, cameras, smiles. What a beautiful day. An Olympic day!
Everyone in Jamaica watched on their TVs.
The team's first run put them into 28th position.
On the second run, they moved up to 24th. Was there hope? By the final run, the whole crowd was cheering. "Jamaica, Jamaica."
The boys lined up for their final run. And this was the moment they had waited two years for. The four pulled in tight for a huddle, holding each other's shoulders, heads together.
"Whatever happens," Jason said. "You are my brothers and we will make them proud at home." Jamaica. They fist-bumped and took their positions at the side of the bobsled.
Jason closed his eyes. The green light flashed.
"One, two, three — push!" And these sprinters did what they do best. A powerful, explosive start. They picked up speed — 120 kilometres per hour, 135 kilometres per hour.
One perfect turn, then another perfect turn. They all leaned right together. Left, right, in perfect harmony, like a perfect machine — they were flying! And the steel sled thundered down the track. The wind screamed past their helmets.
At top speed, the sled began vibrating from the pressure. Then, they wobbled.
Jason pulled hard on the steering, but it wasn't enough. He lost control! The bobsled hit a wall with a terrible bang. Jason's head snapped to the side. The sled flipped and suddenly they were sliding down the track on their side.
Their helmets scraping horribly against the ice. With the whole world watching, they hit the next wall, then the next.
Sparks flew everywhere. They slowed to a stop — 150 metres from the finish line.
The crowd gasped.
A long silence.
Cameras flashed.
None of the four boys were moving.
A medical team ran towards them.
Jason opened his eyes to see blurry shapes of people running to him. He lay still on the ice.
His wife's voice played in his head. "They will laugh at you, darling."
Jason called out to his teammates. "You alive, mon?"
"I think so, mon," said Andre weakly.
Jason climbed out of the sled. He took off his helmet and looked at it. It was cracked. His shoulder burned with pain, but one by one the others also stood up out of the bobsled.
They were bruised and shaken, but they looked at the finish line. It was so close. Then they looked at each other.
Jason bent down and gripped the sled.
The others bent down and gripped it too. And the four stood up, lifting the bobsled together. Two at the front, two at the back.
And the boys started walking, carrying the bobsled towards the finish line. It was so heavy.
One step, then another step.
Then the other teams came and helped carry the sled with them the final metres.
A few in the crowd started clapping.
Then more.
Then the whole stadium! Applause and cheers echoed off the mountains.
Jamaican flags waved. Strangers in Jamaica t-shirts cheered and hugged.
And all of those people who had come to watch a joke were now wiping tears from their eyes. The four boys crossed the finish line together.
They hadn't won, but they had shown up and tried their damn best.
That night, footage played on televisions all around the world. Four men carrying a broken sled across the finish line, showing us the impossible was possible. And nobody was laughing at them anymore.
Nobody talked about who won gold that evening. They all talked about Jamaica.
"Hey, Jamaica," said the Swiss coach. "Let's see you next Olympics, ya." He shook Jason's hand respectfully.
Today, Jamaica has a proud bobsledding tradition, and it all began in 1988 with four men who refused to quit.
This story is based on true events. Some details have been adapted for English learning.
© 2025 Tristan Palumbo. First published on Simple English Books.