"You Will See Me Again..."

Who is the strongest man in the world? For more than a decade there has been no doubt: Soviet Weight Lifter Vasily Alexeyev, who has won two Olympic titles, set 80 world records and become familiar to millions of Americans each week in the opening seconds of ABC's Wide World of Sports. But Alexeyev, now a relatively ancient 38, is a lion in winter, plagued by injuries, disagreements with Soviet coaches and challenges from younger men. In one of the week's more dramatic moments, Alexeyev tried for his third Olympic title, and what would have been a startling comeback. With his permission, TIME Associate Editor BJ. Phillips became the first journalist ever allowed into the warmup room during Olympic weight-lifting competition. Her report:

When the huge, almost grotesquely muscular men file into the room behind the stage of Olympiisky Stadium, they cannot help but steal a glance at the closed curtains of cubicle No. 17. There, in the corner of the vast hall, Alexeyev rests, stretched out on a bed, all 6 ft. 3 in. and 328 Ibs. of him. Sultan Rakhmanov, 30, Alexeyev's former protege and now his chief Soviet rival, works the room, shaking hands and greeting competitors, flashing a smile of angelic sweetness incongruous on his large frame (6 ft. 1 in., 365 Ibs.). He is wearing a faded T shirt and an old pair of black pants that are split up the sides. Weight lifters win no medals for men's haberdashery.

Suddenly, Alexeyev emerges and starts to warm up. Though no one wants to stare, all but Rakhmanov look over their shoulders. The young prince was psyched out by Alexeyev the last time they met, and he will have none of Alexeyev's flattering words this time. But Alexeyev is in no position to trouble other opponents; he has problems of his own. He has lost some of the flexibility of the spine required in the snatch, in which a man must bend deep and sweep the bar overhead in a single, flowing motion. He also seems slower today, getting under the bar late and, sometimes, not getting there at all. He starts to sweat profusely as he warms up, a bad sign that does not go unnoticed. He looks fine trying the clean and jerk, in which a lifter brings the bar chest-high, then heaves it overhead.

While Alexeyev struggles with the snatch, Rakhmanov comes out and starts to warm up. Briskly, efficiently, he snatches one weight, orders it increased, then hoists again with equal ease. Still .young enough to curl his back and lift with supple grace, he has clearly surpassed Alexeyev. The room reverberates with the boom and clang of weights being banged back to earth. Rakhmanov takes no notice.

Then there is silence. Alexeyev has been called for the first of his three tries at the snatch. As discreetly as they can, the other lifters, coaches and officials scurry to the corner of the warm-up room, where a television set will show them the action out front. The silence is relieved only by the rasping puffs of lifters catching their breaths as they watch the TV monitor. Suddenly, something in the room drops with an ear-shattering crash. Heads jerk around. Rakhmanov alone is still warming up, oblivious to the fate of his teammate.

Alexeyev tries to snatch the barbell weighing 396 3/4 Ibs. He hurls it up, but cannot get beneath the bar to hold it for the required one second. Down it comes with a bang. The crowd around the television drifts away. Rakhmanov's coach signals to him: "No lift." Alexeyev comes in, smiling, takes two minutes of rest and then tries again. Up and down once more. This time there is no smile when he returns. He goes to his corner, gulps a demitasse of strong black coffee, and heads out for the last time. Again he fails--he is eliminated from the competition. The Soviet crowd loudly, derisively whistles him off.

He retreats to his cubicle. The competition goes on. Rakhmanov wins easily, making each of his lifts on the first try. When this night is over, it is he who will be the biggest of the big men. But the old long is not sulking. The fearsome visage is gentled by a quick and easy smile. "I have been in training for only two months, and I believe I overtrained during this short period," he explains. Had he started with too great a weight, should he not have begun lower and worked his way up? His answer is almost imperious: "I was not interested in the lower weights. They would not have been enough for the gold medal, only silver or bronze." But this is not the end, Alexeyev insists: "I am an old and a very strong horse. You will see me again."

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