Dampening the Olympic Torch

WE have only the strength of a great ideal," intoned Avery Brundage last week in Munich at the Olympic Stadium memorial service for the slain Israeli athletes. "I am sure the public will agree that we cannot allow a handful of terrorists to destroy this nucleus of international cooperation and good will." Thus, the second week of the XX Olympiad proceeded under a grim penumbra cast not only by the brutal murders, but by sloppy officiating, errant decisions by Brundage's International Olympic Committee--and by the insensitivity of Brundage himself. In his brief speech at the service, the outgoing I.O.C. president tastelessly equated the slayings with what he called the other "savage attack" on the Olympics: the threatened boycott of the Games by Black African nations that had forced the expulsion of Rhodesia. With what some thought was unseemly haste, the competition resumed the same day after the memorial service was concluded.

The multinational gerontocracy of the wealthy sportsmen who run the I.O.C. has never been particularly noted for collective brilliance. As the competitors tried to pick up the shards of the Olympiad, the committee members seemed to outdo themselves in demonstrating their skill at letter-of-the-law Pecksniffepy. Unfortunately for the U.S. team, the brunt of their questionable decisions was borne by American athletes, who were deprived of at least one, and possibly three gold medals.

Minuscule Dosage. The first involved Rick DeMont, 16, a slender distance swimmer from San Rafael, Calif., who had won the 400-meter freestyle by 1/100 sec. over Australia's Brad Cooper. Only minutes before he was to swim in the finals of the 1,500-meter freestyle, DeMont was told that he had been disqualified; an illegal stimulant, ephedrine, had been found in his urine specimen, submitted after the 400. The ephedrine was in prescribed medication that DeMont, an asthmatic, had been taking for years and that he had noted on his Olympic medical form. But neither the Olympic medical committee nor the U.S. coaching staff had warned Rick to discontinue the treatment during the Games (although a U.S. team doctor claimed that he had advised the youngster against taking the medication). Thus, despite a frantic appeal by U.S. coaches, the I.O.C. eliminated Rick from further competition and demanded the return of his gold medal, which he had already taken back to the U.S. DeMont became the best-known Olympian since Jim Thorpe in 1912 to have to return a medal.

Another, and decidedly more controversial decision by the IOC involved U.S. Runners Vincent Matthews and Wayne Collett, both black. After capturing the gold and silver medals, respectively, in the 400-meter race, the pair stood together on the gold-medal winner's pedestal, slouching, talking, fidgeting and pointedly turning away from the U.S. flag while the national anthem was played. As they left the platform the crowd whistled and booed its disapproval. Matthews responded by twirling his medal with studied nonchalance, while Collett raised a clenched fist to the crowd in the Black Power salute. Their behavior recalled the deliberate Black Power salutes made by Medalists John Carlos and Tommie Smith in Mexico City in 1968. The irreverence of Matthews and Collett cost them--and the U.S.--dearly. Although both runners denied that they had had any particular protest in mind, the I.O.C. executive committee acted harshly; it termed their behavior "disgusting" and barred them from any future Olympic competition. That action in effect eliminated the U.S. team from the 1,600-meter relay, in which both were scheduled to run.

Although there was resentment among American athletes over the I.O.C. decisions, even more anger was directed against U.S. staff-level bungling of the kind that led to DeMont's disqualification and the failure of two top 100-meter dashmen, Rey Robinson and Eddie Hart, to get to their qualifying heats on time (TIME, Sept. 11). The disillusionment and dissension were most notable among U.S. track and field stars. Since the modern Olympiad began in 1896, Americans have won 13 of 17 100-meter dashes, twelve of 15 200-meter sprints and all but one pole vault contest. This year, they missed gold medals in every one of those events. Said Jackie Thompson of San Diego, 200-meter sprinter on the women's track team that performed disastrously (two bronzes in Munich v. three golds and a silver in Mexico City): "It's the coaches who aren't together. They don't know what they're doing or what's going on." Added Hammer Thrower George Frenn of San Fernando, Calif., "We ought to ask Congress to disband the U.S. Olympic Committee and start all over again."

Confiscated. Whatever the merit of the charges, no coach nor I.O.C. official was to blame for the travesty of justice that befell Pole Vaulter Bob Seagren, the handsome 1968 Gold Medalist from Monterey Park, Calif. Using a light, flexible (but regulation) new pole, Seagren set a new world record in the Olympic trials with a prodigious leap of 18 ft. 5 3/4 in. Throughout the qualification rounds in Munich he had to keep switching poles while the International Amateur Athletic Federation officials banned, unbanned and rebanned his pole. The I.A.A.F. was allegedly under pressure from East German vaulters, who felt that Seagren was capitalizing on a capitalist product. The night before the final, someone, presumably an I.A.A.F. official, entered Seagren's room while he was absent and confiscated eight poles, including several of the new ones that he had brought to Munich.

Seagren had to go into the finals with an unfamiliar (and visibly stiffer) pole. Straining and pressing for all he was worth, he failed in three attempts to clear 17 ft. 10 1/2 in. Wolfgang Nordwig of East Germany topped 18 ft. 1/2 in. to pick up the gold medal, leaving Seagren fuming with a silver. The usually easygoing U.S. vaulter thrust the pole into the hands of an I.A.A.F. official and turned away angrily from Nordwig's extended hand. Seagren returned to shake hands, but his anger was scarcely concealed. "The only difference between the pole I'm using and the one I used two years ago is that this one is 500 grams lighter and painted a different color. Every major vaulter in the world, including Nordwig, had access to the new poles before I did."

After that, it seemed as if nothing else could happen to the U.S. team short of its premier runner falling down in the middle of a crucial race. That is just what he did. Jim Ryun, 25, the Kansas enigma who overcame psychological problems in his comeback in the 1,500-meter run, opened his qualifying heat by taking his accustomed spot at the rear of the pack. With 500 meters to go, Ryun began to make his move. His target: Kenya's Kipchoge Keino, who had defeated Ryun in the heady Mexico City air. Ryun only needed to finish fourth to qualify. But as he challenged the pack, he tangled legs with Ghana's Billy Fordjour, clipped himself in the jaw with his own knee and went sprawling across the track. The fans cheered as a stunned Ryun struggled to his feet and gamely tried to catch up. But it was much too late, and the long striding runner failed to qualify in what was surely his last bid for Olympic gold.

Lucky Cap. Ryun's sad accident seemed to leave Keino (already a surprise gold medalist in the 3,000-meter steeplechase) with no serious competition in the 1,500, the Olympiad's most prestigious race. As startling as Ryun's accident was the victory of Dave Wottle, 22, of Bowling Green University in the 800-meter run. At the outset Wottle had not been given much of a chance in the 800--even by U.S. Track Coach Bill Bowerman. In the eyes of the dour University of Oregon coach, Wottle would be unable to overcome two afflictions, both suffered in July: tendinitis of the knees and marriage.

As the race got under way, Wottle ran dead last for 500 meters, but was finally inspired by the sight of the favorite, Russia's Yevgeny Arzhanov, beginning his furious kick on the bell lap.

Picking up speed, Wottle passed two flying Kenyans on the outside and took aim on Arzhanov. With one last lung-devouring spurt, he lunged for the finish line and edged the falling Russian by the length of his lucky cap (which he forgot to remove during the playing of The Star-Spangled Banner). Growled Bowerman, who once withdrew a runner's scholarship because the boy got engaged: "Well, he sure shot one theory of mine to hell."

The other bright moments in the dim U.S. track and field chronicle belonged to Hurdler Rod Milburn of Opelousas, La., and Long Jumper Randy Williams of Compton, Calif. Milburn, who sports a bushy Afro and mutton-chop sideburns, barely landed third spot on the team. But he made no mistakes in Munich, sweeping over the 100 meter hurdles in the world-record-equaling time of 13.2 sec. to defeat the fleet Frenchman Guy Drut. Williams --all 5 ft. 10 in., 152 lbs. of him--felt his leg pop during warmups, but managed a whopping leap of 27 ft. 1/2 in. on his first try. At 19, he became the youngest Olympian ever to win the event.

Meanwhile, the Soviets could leave Munich boasting of at least three superlatives. Gold Medal Weight Lifter Vasily Alexeyev qualified as the world's strongest human. Valery Borzov, whose victory in the 100-meter dash had seemed somewhat hollow because of the disqualification of the U.S.'s Robinson and Hart, legitimately claimed the title of world's fastest human by breezing to a 200-meter victory in 20.0 sec. over American Larry Black. Nikolai Avilov, who broke Bill Toomey's 1968 decathlon record by amassing 8,454 points in the grueling two-day, ten-event competition, became the finest all-round athlete. And the title of the world's fastest female clearly belonged to East Germany's Renate Stecher, 22, who dominated the field in the 100-and 200-meter dashes.

While the Russians and East Germans were piling up medals, as expected, in such events as volleyball, canoeing, riding and weight lifting, the U.S. counted heavily for more gold on two staples: boxing and basketball. Both U.S. teams ultimately disappointed. Heralded Heavyweight Duane Bobick was crushed by Cuba's devastating Teofilo Stevenson, and Welterweight Jesse Valdez, flashiest fighter on the card, lost a split semifinal decision to Emilio Correa, also of the rugged Russian-coached Cuban team. Bantamweight Ricardo Carreras and Middleweight Marvin Johnson were also eliminated in the semis, leaving Light Welterweight Ray Scales of Tacoma, Wash., as the only American finalist.

But no Olympic setback, however frustrating or humiliating, quite compared with the U.S. basketball team's 51-50 loss to the Soviet Union, the first defeat by an American team since basketball became an Olympic sport in 1936. U.S. Coach Hank Iba vehemently protested the victory on the grounds that the Russians had gotten a second chance to score the winning basket in the game's confused closing seconds. Despite the furor, the jubilant Russians appeared to have another gold medal.

The XX Olympiad appeared to be a triumph for the already entrenched Russians and the rising East Germans. Despite a respectable total in overall medals won, it was a disaster for the Americans--although not for Swimmer Mark Spitz, whose seven victories made him the most gilt-bedecked Olympian in history. It was also a continuing disaster for Founder Baron Pierre de Coubertin's idea of an apolitical contest of individual mettle among the world's most skillful amateur sportsmen. Munich 1972 was sad witness to feats of athletic valor tarnished by bureaucratic joustings and national jealousies, a sublime international event bespattered by the blood of a despicable crime. National prestige has replaced personal merit as the ultimate Olympic goal; for every bona fide amateur, there is another athlete who lives off his ability like any professional. Millions are spent on circus-tent publicity, but there is no money to pay for impartial and knowledgeable officials. All of which raises the serious question of whether the Olympics--glorious though they are as a showcase for the human body in action--ought to continue in their present form.

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