Pivoting one way on his swivel chair, eight-times Olympic gold medallist Usain Bolt said that if only he had been more dedicated when he was young, he might have achieved so much more. "I was reckless," he said.
Rotating another, he said that if he'd stuck to cricket, his first love, he would have been the world's best. "I'm not even joking," he said.
Another twist, then this: "I'm not going to lie - there will be a big gap to be filled when I'm gone." And soon, perhaps. "I'm feeling old," he said, "but I'm looking good, and that's the main thing."
Big-headed, much?
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Not really. Bolt was sharing a podium in the middle of the ballroom at Crown with John Steffensen, former Australian sprinter, friend and in this instance agent, go-between and interlocutor. They were there to give another shove-along to Nitro athletics, the experimental track and field meet modelled closely and unashamedly on Big Bash League cricket, hence repeated references to music and dancing. It starts on Saturday in South Melbourne.
Steffensen, as all know, is scarcely a wallflower, and the whole evening had a "game show" feel about it, as perceptively noted by Australian team co-captain Genevieve LaCaze. Bolt is Nitro's main act, and so act he would.
Between one-liners, silly grins, gyrations and the odd smooth shimmy, though, an engaging enough picture emerged of the man Steffensen called the biggest star in the sports world. If it is not Bolt, it is the man whose path he must nearly have crossed at Tullamarine, Roger Federer. Melbourne is indeed multiply blessed.
"As a kid, I was happy to be in the streets playing football and cricket," he said. "I was a massive cricket fan. My dad was really into it. Every Test, every one-dayer." Bolt's childhood hero was Australian opener Matthew Hayden.
Batsman himself? Bowler? "I would have been the best all-rounder in the world," he said. "Seriously. I was pretty good. At seven, I was the best. I dominated."
Instead, aths found him, but not instant success. In Athens in 2004, he bombed out in a heat of the 200. Glen Mills, his forever coach, put it on him. "You didn't go to the gym," he said. "You didn't do the work." Bolt was shocked; he thought he had. "I had a lot of talent," he said. "I wish I'd worked harder. I would have done a lot more."
Mills remains his mentor. "We don't talk about track and field," he said. "We ... well, it's not arguing. it's debate. Over random things. He's really simple, but he's really smart. I've been with him for 14 years and I've won five arguments. But he makes you think fast. I'm really quick on my feet."
You don't say!
In Beijing in 2008, where the legend really began, "I was in the best shape of I've ever been in," Bolt said. The images remain vivid now. He was under strict instructions not to eat outside the village, but inside it, the food was all Asian, a mystery to him. "I was still a country boy," he said. Crooking a finger from nearby were the golden arches, and so the sub-legend of the Chicken McNuggets was born.
The next year, in the world championships in Berlin, he broke 100 and 200 world records again. The rest has been about keeping up standards. "What else do I want?" he had thought to himself. "It's all about what you want. I wanted it.
"People say, you make it look easy. But it's not. It looks easy on the track, but I put the work in."
Track and field is either big-time or small-time, with nothing in between, and Bolt says he still sometimes cannot reconcile himself with his global superstar persona. "I like doing ... random things," he said. "My mates say: 'You can't do that. You forget who you are'."
But he does see that he is going to leave big, empty spikes (like the ones that went for $12,000 at auction this night). People like fast runners, he said, but they also liked personalities, "like me".
Nitro might be his transition-to-retirement scheme. It comprises novelty events: non-classic distances, target javelin, mixed-gender relays, for instance, and an "elimination" mile in which runners are knocked out lap by lap.
Crucially for the athletes, it is a team event. American Olympic gold medal hurdler Kerron Clement said it reminded him of the camaraderie of relay running he enjoyed at college, but not as a pro. England captain Christine Ohuruogu said athletics could be a lonely pursuit, always you versus your personal best, but not here.
Bolt is revelling. "I could do the long jump," he said. "Or I could run with the girls and look extra awesome."
He is heavily invested. So is Athletics Australia. So is Coles, who signed on as naming rights sponsor only on Thursday afternoon. So is Visit Victoria, with a six-figure sum. Seven years ago, their subsidy landed Tiger Woods in this very room in a similar alleluia role, until subsequently we learned what he did when he went upstairs.
Golf's spike was short-lived. Some fear for Nitro, beyond Bolt's three-year commitment. AA hopes that it will be like Big Bash, sustained by the format rather than names. Cricket stood to lose fans, but was rewarded for its boldness with more. Athletics has nothing to lose; between Olympics and world championships, it is for devotees only. Like the put, this is worth a shot.
Besides, as a collector of sporting jewels, for Melbourne there is something else in play. Swinging once more in his chair to face Steffensen, Bolt said: "If I had to move anywhere, it would be Melbourne. When I come down here, it's like being home."