Up, Up and Out of Sight!

By Howard G. Chua-Eoan

The record had stood unapproachably majestic for 23 years, a distance of 29 ft. 2 1/2 in., about the length of a medium-size truck, easily traversed by a motorcycle daredevil propelled off a ramp -- but not by unaided tendon, sinew, flesh and blood. Only a few dared to challenge the long-jump record -- the oldest and most awesome in track and field -- set in 1968 when the American Bob Beamon flung himself through the thin Olympic air of high-altitude Mexico City, spanning a gap no man had crossed before.

Many experts thought the record a fluke, unlikely to be repeated. At 7,347 ft. above sea level, Mexico City was perfect for a leap into history, but just ! that once. The Red Sea parts only under extremely specific cosmic circumstances. Beamon never got close to his record again, nor did he quite figure out how he did it. All others who tried failed. Until last week.

No, Carl Lewis didn't do it. If anyone might have been expected to break Beamon's record, Lewis was it. He is the king of track and field. Earlier last week Lewis proved he could still be the fastest human alive, when he set a new world record of 9.86 sec. to take the 100-m gold medal at the World Track and Field Championships in Tokyo. And even though the muggy, sea-level Japanese capital was hardly ideal for breaking the long-jump record, Lewis was going to try. In an astonishing series, he turned in the greatest sequence of long jumps ever recorded. No one had ever soared so far and so consistently over six tries, all well past 28 ft., brushing against the record. At one point, Lewis actually crossed Beamon's mark, going 29 ft. 2 3/4 in. But judges ruled that it had been wind aided and didn't count. Lewis wanted the record. He often spoke as if it were just around the corner; he stretched out for it expectantly. But destiny would offer it to someone else.

Limbering up in Lewis' shadow was Mike Powell, 27, an American who had chafed under the superstar's decade-long domination of track and field. Powell's first four tries were less than Carolingian. "Something went wrong on every jump," he said. But the fifth came with a veritable thunderclap. Powell flew up against a sky heavy with humidity and threatening summer clouds. When he came down, he felt something had happened. "I knew it was far, and I knew it was close to Carl's. When I looked at it, I thought it might be a world record." It was. He had broken Beamon's unmatchable mark by a full 2 in. The 60,000 spectators at Tokyo's National Stadium were on their feet, cheering. From the sidelines the eclipsed Lewis watched Powell claim victory, brushed off tears and walked away.

Back in the U.S., Beamon, who runs a youth sports program in Florida, expressed surprise. Said he: "I was thrown off by not hearing the other name -- Carl Lewis, the most logical person who would either duplicate or surpass the performance." Only a Beamon-busting jump could have overshadowed Lewis' achievements last week. At 30, an age when athletes are often limping into retirement, Lewis is still capable of setting new records, as the 100-m dash proved. After winning the race, he said, "The great thing was, the old man was able to pull it out."

For Lewis, however, the long-jump record is now even farther away -- with a competitor who will match landings with him at every track meet. "Mike had the one jump," Lewis said last week. So Lewis will go on working to get his jump. Even if he has to part the Red Sea to do it.

With reporting by Brian Cazeneuve/Tokyo