8801080502
DETROIT FREE PRESS
880218
Thursday, February 18, 1988
METRO FINAL
8D
Photo Associated Press
MITCH ALBOM
CALGARY '88
Copyright (c) 1988, Detroit Free Press
A SHOT IN DARK FOR GUAM
BIATHLETE ITS LONE OLYMPIAN
CALGARY, Alberta -- Once upon a time, before blimps, the Olympics worked
like this: You grew up in a small town, you sailed to some foreign place, you
competed, you won a medal, you sailed home and got invited to all the good
parties.
This was a fine system, because you always knew where to find a former
Olympian in case he owed you money. You needed Jurgen, the Swedish ski jumper,
you went to Sweden and looked around.
Today it is not so easy. The Olympics have become something for big-nation
athletes to "get into" -- no matter whom they represent. Which means
countries the size of toaster ovens are suddenly very popular; natives in
these places are not all that interested in starting an Olympic team because
brushfires keep destroying their huts.
So it was that I found myself at the Canmore Nordic Centre Wednesday
morning, shivering outside a small trailer marked "Guam." Now, normally, I
don't do Guam. I don't speak Guam. I don't know Guam. OK? Sorry.
But the sole Guam athlete in these Winter Olympics is from my home
state, Michigan, which, last time I checked, was nowhere near the South
Pacific. Judd Bankert grew up in Lake Orion, went to Michigan State, became
an accountant and was transferred to Guam (next stop, Japan) by his company
six years ago.
Did you know that Guam is a U.S. territory? Did you know a citizen in
America is a citizen there? Ta-da! Presenting Bankert, the new Olympic
biathlete, dressed in speed suit, rifle, hat and skis, representing a nation
that has a typhoon once a month.
"Can you even buy skis in Guam?" I ask.
"No," he says.
"Is there any snow in Guam?" I ask.
"No," he says.
I no longer flinch at such responses. I have already met the Jamaican
bobsled team and the Puerto Rican luger. I have already interviewed
competitors who, until recently, thought slush was a myth.
Still, you have to give Bankert credit. This was quick. Until five months
ago, when he began training, he hadn't been on skis since 1980, and he hadn't
shot a gun since he was a kid hunting pheasants. "He missed all the targets
his first time out," admits his biathlon coach, Richard Domey.
Hey. No big deal. Just don't stand near him. Never mind that, as Guam's
only Olympian, he trains in Washington state, where he plans to live after the
Games. Never mind that the native Guamanians, called Chamorro, wouldn't know
a biathlete if he shot them in the sandal. (Personally, I figure if one
Chamorro says, "Hey, did you hear about our American accountant at the
Olympics?" the other Chamorro says, "Umm-hmm. Pass the bait.")
Which brings us to fishing, something the people of Guam actually like to
do. I know this, because I am told it by Mr. James Ji, vice-president of the
Guam Olympic Committee. Mr. Ji is also here, standing outside the trailer. Mr.
Ji looks as if he's freezing.
"What's the coldest it gets in Guam?" I ask.
"Eighty," he says.
That explains it.
Still, everyone in this little party is pretty keen on Guam's first
Olympian. "Better to have one person than no person," Mr. Ji says.
Besides, they say, Guam, an island 30 miles wide, is actually the tallest
mountain in the world. It's just that 37,000 feet of it are under water.
But back to our theme. More and more athletes are finding these loophole
ways to compete in the Olympics. Bankert lived in Guam long enough to satisfy
the Olympic requirements (although he lived in Michigan a lot longer). A U.S.
businessman named George Fitch hunkered down $60,000 and slapped together a
Jamaican bobsled team. George Tucker, a middle-aged American considered a
pest at the Lake Placid luge track, remembered one of his grandparents was
Puerto Rican and -- presto! -- San Juan had an Olympic luge team.
(By the way, I figure this grandparents-counting-as- nationality business
is real bad news. Especially for Americans. You can imagine the scene 40 years
from now, when the little tyke comes in with skates.
"Grandma, where were you born?"
"Wisconsin."
"Damn it. Why couldn't you come from Nepal?")
So I don't know about this Guam stuff. I'm sure Bankert is a nice guy.
("My goal here," he says, "is to do a personal best and not interfere with
the world-class racers.") Still, the whole point of the Olympics, I always
thought, was to represent your country, not your plane ticket.
"Didn't you feel funny carrying the Guam flag during the opening
ceremonies?" I ask.
"No different than I would carrying the Michigan flag," he says.
Well, maybe. At least his teammates could find Michigan on a map.
Anyhow, this, under the rules, is what the Games have become. While the
folks back in Guam go spear fishing, Bankert skis, shoots and tries to make up
for lost time. He's behind the other biathletes by only about, oh, 14 years.
"But Judd's come along very fast," says Domey, the coach. "We now think we
can beat some people. We have our eye on Costa Rica and Puerto Rico."
To whom, considering Bankert's aim, I say this:
Duck.
CUTLINE
Judd Bankert, formerly of Lake Orion, will give the biathlon his best shot as
Guam's only Olympian.
XV WINTER GAMES;OLYMPICS;JUDD BANKERT