The alarm clock must be set at these Olympic Games.

Nothing works without a good schedule.

Who, when, what, where?

With so much sport at the same time, a keen sense of timing is required.

But in Tokyo there is a duty before the experience.

And that begins with a warning signal.

In any case, the health app makes itself eerily noticeable every morning.

Anno Hecker

Responsible editor for sports.

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In the translation it reads like this: “We noticed that someone in your team has not yet registered.” Which at least means that we are already registered.

Our wrongdoing.

But now quickly: No fever: click.

No symptoms: click.

Enter core body temperature, indicate medication intake, act as informers, uh, explain that no one on the team feels sick.

Away with it.

And check registration.

Done.

You notice something, don't you?

You could mess around, always tick the box so that the security guard never comes.

If it weren't for the day of spitting.

Thursday was one of those.

Open the tube, pour in the saliva, close it, stick on the number code and then register using the QR code.

Take it to the spit collection warehouse, first floor in the main press center.

"No reason"

Three women form the reception committee (see photo!). You lead to two ladies who manage the depot, to put it more elegantly. You sit behind a plexiglass pane in front of which there is a plastic container into which the tubes fall. You count eagerly. Around 1,300 saliva tubes in a bag every day. At the opening ceremony, they say, there were 3,500. The two send everyone who wants to know more about the test to the next table, where the first aid team is sitting for spitting samples. Guess what: yes, four ladies. All in all, that's nine.

Why are women sitting here alone on every spitting day? “No reason,” they say. And what if you, as a Western European familiar with the gender struggle, do not want to believe that at all? Then they laugh out loud. Which does not mean that you are right to assume that the common Japanese send women out when it comes to looking after a huge spittoon. But mopping up sweat two or three times a minute is not a noble job either. But with what dedication the two do it. In sync with their wipers like the diver.

The game on the basketball hall follows a small choreography, while the NBA stars of the Americans pour the Iranians on the other side: From the baseline under the basket to the free-throw line, then back to the starting position in a right or left swing, bowing. You do it perfectly, the two young men.