At the end of Day Nine, The Mag's Anne Marie Cruz writes of useless noise and silent gestures.

Zombie lepers couldn't have stopped the chattering in the athletes' box high up in the stands during the women's all-around gymnastics competition. The Euro contingent (Italy, Spain, Ukraine, Russia and Romania) chirped endlessly, in that urgent, chew-toy sort of way, trying to egg their teammates on to victory. The gymnasts on the floor were so focused (or so rattled by the buzzing in their own heads) that the squawking was probably just white noise to them. I couldn't understand a word (note to self: learn another language, any language), but I thought it was a charming show of sisterhood. Not everyone was amused. A couple of guys -- one in the audience, the other in the press box -- shouted "Shut up!" to smatterings of applause.

Overheard

"My drugs are Parmesan and spaghetti."

—Italian swimmer and 200-meter individual medley champ Massimiliano Rosolino

No such applause for the inexcusable equipment error that left the vault horse 5 cm lower than regulation height for the first two rotations. Svetlana Khorkina was one of the victims. One of the tallest (5'4", maybe) and most experienced gymnasts here, Svetlana was one of the gold medal favorites and the top scorer during team finals. She'd been leading the all-around competition before she fell to her knees on her first vault. It didn't matter that she was given the opportunity to retry her vaults at the end of the regular competition. Her confidence had already been shaken enough that she fell off the uneven bars too, and her medal hopes dissolved.

When the gymnasts cleared the floor, Svetlana flew past the pack of media at the mixed zone and snuck out the back. But the leprous undead couldn't stop the press either. A small group of Russian TV personalities and cameramen flagged Svetlana down in the parking lot, and she was gracious enough to stop and answer their questions.

It was clear she'd been crying, so one of the journalists -- a shortish man with a dark mustache and a large head -- lent her his sunglasses before they trained the cameras on her. She nodded her thanks, quickly donning the oversized shades. The black frames overwhelmed her scrawny, ashen face. It was way past 10 p.m, but it was the perfect gesture. Svetlana sniffled and smiled her way through several minutes of camera time. One final question amused her, and she laughed, cracking a sideways grin. As she responded, she pulled the shades off, folded them carefully and returned them to their mustachioed owner. Before Svetlana could disappear entirely, one woman with a mike sprung a big bear hug on her.

I hadn't understood a word, but I understood completely.

Anne Marie Cruz covers the Olympics for ESPN The Magazine. Come back for more of her Postcards from Sydney.