by Deji Ogeyingbo
This is Deji Ogeyingbo’s feature on Mondo Duplantis, after his twelfth world record for 6.28 meters.
Mondo Duplantis and the art of jumping high
It’s getting hard to tell if Mondo Duplantis is still chasing records or just deciding when it’s time to break them. He cleared 6.28 meters on Sunday in Stockholm, another world record, his twelfth, and maybe his most personal. The first time he jumped in this stadium, he was 11. It has become a norm to see him jump last—the showstopper. The crowd knew what to expect, but still fell in awe of his abilities.
But that’s just the surface.
What Duplantis is doing now goes beyond winning. He’s alone up there. The other pole vaulters are capable athletes, but they’re not in the same range. Australia’s Kurtis Marschall, tapped out at 5.90, Duplantis was already measuring something bigger: how close he could get to perfect. He passed on safer heights, ignored his own meeting record, and called for 6.28,one centimeter higher than his indoor best. He made it on the first attempt.
And then, in a way, he told us: now I can relax.
He joked that he could finally chill for the summer. That he checked everything off the list. That this was the only thing missing, which was breaking a world record at home. You got the sense he meant it. There’s no unfinished business here, only time, only mood.
That’s what makes him different. Mondo isn’t running from ghosts. He isn’t trying to prove anything to critics. He’s not stuck in the fight for sponsorship relevance or rankings. He’s building a different kind of career, one that waits for the right night, the right breeze, and then makes the impossible feel controlled.
Which begs the question: are we watching a generational talent, or something we’re not quite used to?
In most sports, greatness is shaped by rivalry. Nadal had Federer. Lewis had Verstappen. Bolt had Blake for a moment. Duplantis has no such foil. The closest thing to competition is the idea of what’s next. He says 6.30m isn’t far. Don’t be surprised if he dares something higher. The space between his latest record and the next one is barely a finger’s width. It’s there. But there’s no rush.
And that, oddly, has put us in the waiting seat. We show up to Diamond League meets not to see if he’ll break the record, but when he decides to. He owns meet records in 12 of the 15 stops. The others are holdovers from another era: Kendricks in Rabat, Lisek in Monaco, Lavillenie in London. The rest belong to Duplantis. Even the bars seem to know.
This dominance has its cost. Mondo has to find drive from inside without someone breathing down his neck. Every jump now is about precision, timing, feel. It’s the wind, the pole, the runway, his body, his breath. He doesn’t just need strength he needs clarity. And the motivation to keep showing up.
So where does it go from here?
At 25, he’s in his peak. The body is still fresh. The confidence is unshakable. But the real story might not be in how high he jumps next, it might be in how he keeps himself interested.
When you’ve lapped the field, when you’ve rewritten the record book, when your closest competitor is a previous version of yourself, staying hungry becomes its own kind of sport. And for Duplantis, that seems to be enough. For now.
He talks about perfect days. About breeze. About midsummer parties with family. These aren’t the thoughts of a man chasing something. These are the thoughts of someone building something, carefully, patiently, with joy. He’s not a brand, not a machine. He’s just a guy who found the best version of himself in midair.
And that might be the rarest thing of all.
