Citius, Altius, Fortius

SIX months before the start of the 1968 Olympic Games in Mexico City, a young Kenyan took up the 3,000-meter steeplechase because he was a failure in the 5,000-meter run. He won his first steeplechase and soon was chosen for the Kenyan Olympic team. In Mexico, he won his heat in unspectacular time, displaying an awkward style that made purists prickle. In the final, he was 30 yds. behind the leaders with one lap to go. Suddenly, Amos Biwott, 21, took off like a hartebeest in a bush fire, hitting the front on the last turn and thereby becoming one of the least-expected winners in Olympic history.

Among the record 10,000 or so competitors from 123 countries who will gather in Munich this month to celebrate the XX Olympiad of the modern era, there doubtless will be another Biwott. Maybe more than one--which is only one reason why predicting Olympic gold medalists is an uncertain sport. Besides the unknowns who surprise, there are always well-regarded but erratic competitors capable of once-in-a-lifetime feats.

Witness the 29-ft. 21-in. winning long jump of America's Bob Beamon at Mexico, which shattered the world record by nearly two feet; Beamon has never since come close to that prodigious leap. Then there are the form favorites who somehow fail to produce their best at the Games. In the men's discus throw, four world record holders in a row have missed winning the gold medal; each time it went to the same man: steady, nerveless Al Oerter.

But even before all the nations have chosen their teams, and before all the female entrants have passed the new sex test (a strand of hair will be examined to see if the follicle has the combination of chromosomes that is conclusive evidence of womanhood), one thing can be predicted with surety. The 8,500 men and the 1,500 women (almost double the number at Mexico) will among them reaffirm the Olympic motto of Citius, Altius, Fortius--setting new records that will be swifter, higher, stronger.

Swimming, a traditional source of superstars, is the first major sport on this year's Olympic schedule. The first aquatic gold medalist was a Hungarian, Alfred Hajos, who won the only two swimming events at Athens in 1896. Both were held in the open sea, amid chilling waves as high as 12 ft. Said Hajos, in one of the franker Olympic victory statements: "My will to live completely overcame my desire to win." This year an American, an Australian and an East German all have a chance to emerge from the magnificent Munich pool as the greatest star of the entire 1972 Games.

For American Mark Spitz, Munich represents a second chance at superstardom. At 18 he entered the Mexico Games with two world records under his belt and brash predictions that he would win six gold medals. When he finished up with two gold, one silver and one bronze--a tidy tally for almost any other competitor--he felt "downright depressed." In truth, he had not swum his best. But Spitz seems to have regained confidence without cockiness. Though he now holds three world records in freestyle and butterfly, Spitz may not compete in the full range of individual and relay events. If he does, U.S. Men's Swimming Coach Peter Daland thinks that Spitz once again has a shot at six gold medals.

At 15, shimmering Shane Gould of Australia has already established herself as the greatest female swimmer in history. Using her powerful shoulders and a slow, two-beat kick that barely ripples the water, she has set world records for every women's freestyle distance from 100 to 1,500 meters. More than Spitz did at Mexico, cool, unpretentious Shane faces the pressure of proving herself in the tense, compacted competition of the Olympics. She is determined to compete in the four women's freestyle events and, if the scheduling is right, she may swim in three others. In short, Sydney Schoolgirl Shane Gould has a good chance to win an astonishing seven gold medals.

In sports-crazed East Germany, where top athletes receive cash bonuses (especially when they beat West Germans), there is no greater hero these days than Roland Matthes, 21. He took two Olympic gold medals at Mexico and could pick up as many as five more at Munich, depending on how many events he enters. Lean, lithe Matthes is as sure as any Olympic competitor of winning his specialties--the 100-meter and 200-meter backstroke, in which he has been the world record holder for the past four years. Like Shane Gould, Matthes has a distinctive kick; almost twice as big as that used by other backstrokers, it has earned him the nickname "Flipper."

Track and field will dominate the second part of the Munich program. To the winner of the men's 100-meter dash traditionally goes the title of "world's fastest human." Early this year, when U.S. sprinters were rising and falling like imperfect souffles, it looked as if the title might go to a Russian for the first time. Valery Borzov, from the little Ukrainian town of Novaya Kakhovka, had beaten every international runner to face him in three seasons. If anyone could conquer him by the time the Games began, it seemed it might be the "Southern Arrow," Pietro Mennea, a native of Barletta on the heel of Italy's boot. Or perhaps stocky Jean-Louis Ravelomanantsoa of the Malagasy Republic. Borzov remains unbeaten, but at the trials for the U.S. team last month, two qualifiers exploded past his best time. Slim, goateed Eddie Hart and Reynaud ("Sugar Rey") Robinson both equaled the world record of 9.9 sec.

The pole vault is technically the most difficult event in track and field; this year's Olympic contest may be the best ever. The 18-ft. barrier, narrowly broken in 1970 by Greek Chris Papanicolaou, was not disturbed again until last April, when Sweden's diminutive Kjell Isaksson soared 18 ft. 1 in. Since then the barrier has really been buffeted--including twice more by Isaksson and twice by Bob Seagren of the U.S. (TIME, June 19), a fledgling actor who hopes for a movie career. Seagren has cleared a world record height of 18 ft. 5 1/2 in. Someone, he says, perhaps he himself, will do 19 ft. this year. It might happen at Munich.

Another glamour event of track and field is the 1,500-meter run. If recent form prevails, the final should bring about a rematch between the duelists of Mexico, Gold Medalist Kipchoge Keino of Kenya and runner-up Jim Ryun of the U.S. Keino, despite an attack of malaria, recently ran the fastest 1,500 of the year, 3:36.8. Ryun, who has performed erratically for more than 18 months, seems to be reaching his peak once again. Even so, it may not be a two-man race. Kenya has another prospect in Mike Boit, who started running the distance this year and is already coming close to matching Keino's time. Italy, which has surprisingly produced a small army of capable trackmen, has a 1,500-meter hope in Francesco Arese, a black-mustachioed teacher who runs 25 to 30 kilometers a day through the traffic of Turin. Another American, Dave Wottle, who qualified for the 1,500-meter run even though he was soundly beaten by Ryun, found unexpected consolation. Entering the 800 meters, a tune-up for the 1,500, Wottle tied the world record of 1:44.3. At Munich, Wottle could run into--literally as well as figuratively, considering the rough race the 800 usually is--a cluster of Kenyans.

Several competitors command attention in the hurdle and throwing events. Until a few weeks ago, the athlete with the surest shot at a gold medal in track seemed to be muttonchopped Rod Milburn of Opelousas, La., who has not lost a 110-meter hurdle race in two seasons. Then, in the final at the U.S. trials, he was jarred off balance and finished third, behind Tom Hill and Willie Davenport. Milburn still ranks as the favorite, but he is clearly not invincible. In the discus, Jay Silvester of Orem, Utah, was the world record holder beaten by Al Oerter in 1968. He holds the record again (224 ft. 5 in.) as he goes to Munich, and Oerter has retired. But Silvester's top competition, Ricky Bruch of Sweden, has not. Once notorious for his temper tantrums and a tempestuous love life, the bearded "Giant from Skane" seems to have settled down as a serious contender.

In the shotput, another powerful American will be missing, but not by choice. Randy Matson, gold medalist in 1968, was nudged off the U.S. team by George Woods, Al Feuerbach and Brian Oldfield. Feuerbach, who has hair like Samson's and a mustache like Fu Manchu's, releases the shot with a banzai-type yell. Oldfield competed at the U.S. trials in a brief, floral-patterned swimsuit and a low-cut fishnet jersey. If these Americans fail to stir the Munich stadium crowds, West German Uwe Beyer almost certainly will. After winning the bronze medal in the hammer throw at Tokyo in 1964, Beyer gave up sport to enter his Nordic features and Mr. Atlas physique in show business. He flopped first in the movies, then as a crooner and vanished from the public eye. Now he is back, hurling the hammer better than ever.

The women's track and field program will include a 1,500-meter race for the first time. One contender is Vera Nikolic of Yugoslavia. During a semifinal heat of the 800 meters in 1968, Vera suddenly stopped and fled the track in tears, overcome by a broken romance. In Munich, Vera will probably compete in both the 800 and 1,500. In the former, though, gospel-singing Madeline Manning Jackson of Columbus will be trying to duplicate the gold medal she won last time in Mexico. Other U.S. hopes in women's track include Metric Miler Francie Larrieu, who proudly calls herself a Jesus freak, and 400-meter Runner Kathy Hammond, who is more relaxed since she decided to retain her coach as her coach but not as her fiance.

European women in the main stadium limelight will likely include a tall, nervous blonde, High Jumper Ilona Gusenbauer of Austria. She has leaped four inches higher than her own considerable height of 5 ft. 1 11 in. to set a world record. But she is a constant worrier--about keeping up with the housework, about not spending enough time with the baby--and it sometimes affects her performances. Almost a foot shorter than Ilona is Olga Korbut, who weighs only 84 Ibs. She is the smallest member of a Russian gymnastic team that as usual looks exceptionally talented. Unusually, so does the U.S. women's squad.

Linda Metheny, Roxanne Pierce and Cathy Rigby all have chances for individual medals--if they can beat out the Russians and the East German girls.

The U.S. is also surprisingly strong in freestyle wrestling. Dedicated 23-year-old Dan Gable, who has won 265 of 267 matches in an eleven-year career, is an obvious gold-medal threat in the lightweight division; Wayne Wells, who finished fourth as a lightweight at Mexico, is now a welterweight and better. Among other U.S. hopes (in Greco-Roman as well as freestyle wrestling) is 444-lb. Chris Taylor, who very nearly gave up the sport after an incident that took place two years ago. "I pancaked this fellow, and I heard him screaming underneath me," he recalls. "I thought his back was broken. But it was his neck. He was paralyzed from the neck down." Taylor won the match, of course, but he lost much of his meanness. If he gets it back before Munich, he might trouble the only wrestler ever to have whipped him: 280-lb. World Champion Alexander Medved of Russia. Another Soviet giant is 330-lb. Weight Lifter Vasily Ivanovich Alexeyev. Agile enough to play volleyball, easygoing Alexeyev has set 54 world records in the super-heavyweight division since March 1970 and is clearly the class of his field.

Occasionally some countries produce outstanding individual competitors who bring back Olympic medals in sports that would never attract a crowd at home. This year one of the favorites in the arcane discipline of archery (included in Olympic competition for the first time since 1920) is a U.S. soldier, Private First Class John Williams. In single-sculls rowing, long a virtual monopoly of Russians and Australians, a Dutchman took the gold medal in 1968. The 1972 victor in the event, which will be held at Feldmoching/OberSchleissheim, five miles outside Munich, could be an Argentinian who has the reputation of being as fast with his fists as his oars. In the midst of his training program, Alberto Demiddi was suspended from his rowing club in Rosario after a brawl with a club employee.

If only because of the size of their squads, the Americans, East Germans and Russians (who will have 500 athletes competing in every sport except field hockey) are likely to end up at the head of the unofficial tally of total medals won. That hardly means disgrace for countries that cannot muster so wide a variety of talents. The Scandinavian countries, for instance, once known for their record-setting distance runners, stand to pick up several medals in the yachting events, which will take place at the Baltic seaport of Kiel, 655 miles from Munich's Olympic stadium.

In some team events, the heavy favorites never seem to change. The Russians and Japanese are likely to have at each other as usual in the volleyball finals. The Russians, Hungarians and Yugoslavs will probably vie for the gold medal in water polo. Pakistan and India can refight their war over Bangladesh on the playing fields of Munich in a minor sport where they normally have no real rivals: field hockey. U.S. teams have never lost a game, let alone a gold medal in basketball--although some think that this may be the year that the towering squads of Yugoslavia and Russia have a chance to defeat an American team that has no established stars.

But even as a new star can be born at the Olympics in the 3,000-meter steeplechase or in other individual events, so too can it happen in team sports. Before the 1968 Games began, the U.S. basketball squad seemed to be even more of a collection of nonentities than it is this year. By the time the tournament was over, however, a 19-year-old sophomore from the University of Detroit had become a sensation. For Spencer Haywood, who turned professional two years later for $1.5 million, the Olympics were a springboard to fame and glory. Which is part of the reason that relatively obscure cyclists from Canada, boxers from Korea and runners from Turkey are looking forward to Munich just as much as Mark Spitz, Shane Gould and Roland Matthes.

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