9601240089
DETROIT FREE PRESS
960726
Friday, July 26, 1996
METRO FINAL
1D
MITCH ALBOM
Copyright (c) 1996, Detroit Free Press
RIVALS BRING OUT BEST AND WORST
ATLANTA -- What does it mean to have a rival? That you hate him? That
you envy her? That you study everything he does? That you look the other way
and hope that she is studying you?
The big pool at the Georgia Tech Aquatic Center was all about rivalries
Thursday night, two in particular, one between two men, the other between two
women. Within their emotions was the whole spectrum of human competition,
splashing quickly into the water.
The first splash might have been felt all the way in Hollywood. Two
handsome young rivals, one American, one Russian, both long and lean and
without a trace of body fat. Gary Hall is from the States, and he has the
cool to prove it. He is the son of a former Olympian, the grandson of the
jailed Charles Keating, a free spirit who hates practice, loves '70s
clothing, and once swam a race with a painted black arm band to mourn the
death of Grateful Dead guitarist Jerry Garcia.
His arch rival, Alexander Popov, is everything Hall is not. The defending
Olympic gold medalist, a serious Russian who must train in Australia because
his country can no longer serve an athlete of his caliber, a guy who speaks
several languages and takes practice mileage as seriously as Einstein took
physics.
Hall once said, "I believe in the Woody Guthrie philosophy, 'Take it easy,
but take it.' "
Popov once said, "I don't envy movie stars. They should envy me."
Ego, they have. Speed they have, too. Popov is unquestionably the fastest
in the world, and Hall is a breath behind him and three years younger. As they
came out Thursday night, you were tempted to call them the Ali-Frazier of
their sport. They already had raced the 100 meters a few days ago, with Popov
winning by a finger. Now they took their places next to each other for the
50-meter freestyle. Hall had Blondie music blasting in his Walkman. Popov
came out in shaded goggles. They did not make eye contact.
What does it mean to have a rival? That you try to outcool him.
A game of inches
They hit the water hard, and came up nearly even. The 50 is over so fast,
you almost think guys like Popov and Hall (6- feet-7 and 6-feet-6) could just
jump in and stretch to the wall. But they both need strokes, and they both
stroke like factory machines. Popov, despite an average start, churned a
fraction harder, and had a lead by the finish, maybe the length of your hand.
It was enough. He touched the wall less than two-tenths of a second ahead of
Hall. The gold was his again. Hall got the silver.
In the press tent, the rivalry continued.
"Alex, what would you tell Gary if you coached him?"
"That maybe he should come train with me in Australia -- and be prepared to
do a lot of swimming."
"Gary, are you tired of finishing second?"
"Alex has got three years on me. In the year 2000, I'll be at my peak,
just like he is now."
"Alex, how are you able to swim so fast when you do 150 miles of training a
week?"
"A gift from God. Maybe you should ask Jesus Christ."
"Gary, is the rivalry still on?"
"When we meet again -- and we will meet again -- it'll be a hell of a
race."
They left separately. Mr. Gold. Mr. Silver. What does it mean to have a
rival? That you always leave him thinking about next time.
The march of time
Unless of course, there is no next time. Which brings us to the other
rivalry in the pool Thursday night, in the long, grueling 800-meter freestyle
between Janet Evans, the aging queen of American swimming, and Brooke Bennett,
a bushy-haired high school sophomore who still wears braces on her teeth.
Eight years ago, as a child, Bennett watched Evans win three gold medals
in Seoul and shouted, "Mommy, I want to do that!" She developed quickly, and
when she reached the national level, Evans welcomed her, coddled her, helped
her do her homework. But Brooke kept getting faster, and Janet did not, and
one day, when Evans skipped a meet, Bennett told the press: "I think she's a
little scared. She knows someone is coming up behind her."
What does it mean to have a rival? That what they say hurts. Evans was
stung by her young protegee's arrogance. They drifted. They avoided each
other. But there was no avoiding at these Games. On the platform Thursday
night, they stood three lanes and a generation apart. This would be Evans'
last Olympic final. It was Bennett's first.
They hit the water hard, and it was over fast. Evans was a stroke behind
after one lap, a body behind after two, and five seconds behind by the midway
point. She finished sixth. Bennett won the gold easily.
Afterward, Bennett was polite. She called Evans "the queen of swimming"
and said she could only hope to match what Janet did in her career. When
someone asked Brooke what she was going to do now, she said, "Finish high
school, sky-dive and get a tattoo."
When Evans finally met the press, she was crying happy tears. She said
these were her favorite Olympics, even though she goes home empty, because she
finally appreciates the full picture of being an Olympian, highs and lows.
When asked what she would do next, she did not say tattoos. She said: "Take a
vacation . . . and look for a job."
Someone told her what Bennett had called her and she seemed surprised.
"That's nice to hear," she said, then added, "especially from someone who just
won a gold medal."
What does it mean to have a rival? It means your wins are sweeter, your
losses more bitter. And if you're lucky, when it's over, you both took each
other places you might never have gone.
THIS ELECTRONIC VERSION MAY DIFFER SLIGHTLY FROM THE PRINTED ARTICLE.
OLYMPIC; COLUMN; SWIMMING