Lieut. Mills's Day

Of all the U.S. trackmen at Tokyo, the one rated least likely to succeed was Billy Mills, 26, a Marine lieutenant entered in the 10,000-meter run. No American had ever won the Olympic 10,000 (or even placed better than sixth), and the experts wondered why Mills even bothered to show up. A half Sioux Indian from South Dakota, he was only a so-so runner at the University of Kansas, failed to make the U.S. team in the 5,000 meters, won a trip to Tokyo when he finished a distant second behind Gerry Lindgren in the 10,000. But he could do one thing: he could sprint pretty well in the final lap. "I'm going to win this thing if I have anything left at the end," he told his wife after clipping off a 23.8-sec. 200 meters in practice.

"I Never Heard of Him." Anybody else would have laughed. Mills's best time for 10,000 meters was 29 min. 10.4 sec., nearly a minute slower than Australian Ron Clarke's world record. And for half the race, there was Clarke striding rhythmically, effortlessly around the track, burning out his challengers. With a badly twisted ankle, Gerry Lindgren was struggling just to finish, and the crowd in National Stadium waited patiently for Clarke to shake the other also-rans: Tunisia's little Mohamed Gamoudi, Ethiopia's Mamo Wolde--and Billy Mills. But on and on they went, matching stride for stride, lapping stragglers, jockeying for position. Clarke was in front going into the final lap. Incredibly, Mills was right behind, and so were the other two unknowns.

Suddenly, as an astonished roar erupted from 75,000 throats, Mills turned on his finishing kick, tried to pass--and got a dig in the ribs that knocked him off stride. Once more, he came on, and now Tunisia's Gamoudi blasted past, stiff-arming the American to one side in a tangle of flailing arms and legs. Mills stumbled, recovered, and dashed forward again. Arms pumping, legs churning, his face an agony of effort, he raced past Clarke, past Gamoudi, past the finish line--to win by four yards, set a new Olympic record of 28 min. 24.4 sec. and score the biggest upset of the 1964 games.

Olympic President Avery Brundage had tears in his eyes when he draped the gold medal around Mills's neck. And then someone asked Loser Clarke: "In your prerace planning did you worry about Mills?" "Worry about him?" said Clarke. "I never heard of him."

"You Die for Them." For a time last week, it seemed that this was to be an Olympics of upsets--most of them happening to the Russians. Britain's Kenneth Matthews easily outdistanced Russia's Vladimir Golubnichy, the 1960 Olympic champ, in the herky-jerky 20,000-kilometer walk; Tatyana Schelkanova saw her world record broken by Britain's Mary Rand in the women's broad jump; and Elena Gorchakova, who set a new world mark in the qualifying round of the women's javelin, never came close again, finished third behind Rumania's Mihaela Penes. But then there were the unbeatables, like New Zealand's Peter Snell, who loafed to an Olympic record in the 80-meter run, and the Americans who were mining gold as if it were coal: > New York's Al Oerter, 28, a gold medal winner in both 1956 and 1960, was working out with the discus when he suddenly collapsed with a severely torn rib cartilage and internal hemorrhages. For a week doctors gave him heat treatments, ultrasonic massage, muscle relaxers and enzymes to clear up the dead internal blood. Then they taped him from chest to buttocks, shot him full of painkillers, and he went out to compete. Unable to pivot his hips, he flung the 4-lb. 7-oz. discus with his arms alone--and still uncorked a toss of 200 ft. 1 1/2 in. to beat Czechoslovakia's Ludvik Danek. Any other time he would have been hospitalized. "But these are the Olympics," said Oerter. "You die for them."

> Tennessee State's Wyomia Tyus, just turned 19, picked up where Wilma Rudolph left off in 1960--beating Teammate Edith McGuire in the women's 100-meter dash, after tying Wilma's world record of 11.2 sec. in a heat. >California's massive Dallas Long, 24, was having all sorts of trouble getting himself keyed up for the shotput--until precocious Texan Randy Matson, 19, unloaded the longest throw of his brief career: 66 ft. 3 1/4 in. "A thing like that can really juice you up," said Long, who promptly set an Olympic record with a toss of 66 ft. 8 1/2 in. and announced that he was retiring to concentrate on dentistry: "It's time to stop putting and start pulling."

At week's end the U.S., which won only nine gold medals in men's track and field at the 1960 Olympics, already had seven in the bank--with perhaps half a dozen more to go. Head Coach Bob Giegengack, for the first time in his life, could be accused of understatement when he said: "This is a magnificent bunch of kids."

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