THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1996, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Sunday, July 28, 1996 TAG: 9607260387
SECTION: CAROLINA COAST PAGE: 48 EDITION: FINAL
TYPE: Editorial
SOURCE: RONALD L. SPEER
LENGTH: 67 lines
When I was a lad back in the '50s I ran the mile in track - and dreamed of someday qualifying for the Olympics.
Those dreams were shattered when England's Roger Bannister broke the four-minute barrier in the mile. I and my small-town rivals had been trying to break 5 minutes. I had come close at 5:00.1.
When word spread of Bannister's unbelievable feat, I was stunned. I never did break five minutes, and gradually accepted the fact that not many short, fat guys run in the Olympics.
But years later, in 1968, I made the trip to the world games as a sportswriter.
Covering the Mexico City Olympics still ranks as a favorite assignment.
I saw Bob Beamon's astonishing long jump of 29-2 1/2, and was 50 feet away when sprinters John Carlos and Tommie Smith raised black-gloved hands from the victory stand at sunset in protest of what they called racial inequities on America's team.
With awe I watched Kip Keino of Kenya win the metric equivalent of the mile in 3 minutes 34.9 seconds, outdueling my hero, Kansan Jim Ryun, who sprinted the last 200 meters but never caught up.
And like 80,000 others in Aztec Stadium, I cried at the closing ceremonies when the Mexicans said goodbye to their only Olympics.
Ever since, I've vicariously enjoyed the games on television, where it is possible to see more action than can anyone at the games.
This summer I have been fascinated again, although track and field is still ahead. I love the Olympics, but. . .
During the women's gymnastics, I sometimes feel like a pervert who gets his jollies watching grown-ups abuse teenagers.
Actually, it should be called girls' gymnastics, because nearly all the competitors are teenagers. Dominique Moceanu, the world's darling for a week, is but 14.
Most girls her age are heading into high school, trying to discover who they are, how to deal with obnoxious boys, worrying about what to wear, lost in the crowd.
Dominique Moceanu, with billions watching on television, stands alone in the spotlight when her turn comes to swing and somersalt and vault and prance - and to cartwheel around on a 4-inch wide board 4 feet off the floor known as a balance beam.
That challenge, my friends, is my idea of what hell is like.
And to make a 14-year-old girl dare the dangers and the pressures in front of a world-wide television audience is disgusting. Sometimes I turn off my TV - but not always, although I hate myself for watching.
Would you turn over to a glory-hunting coach your daughter or niece or sister so maybe, possibly, perhaps she could win an Olympic medal? I cannot imagine a child 8 or 10 years old wanting to give up family and home to devote years of her youth to become a famous gymnast - but I see spotlight-hunting parents sacrificing the companionship of a daughter for a dream.
And it is clear that showboating coach Bela Karoli would sacrifice ``his'' girls for fame and fortune. He proved it when he let an injured Kerri Strug risk a leg by making a final leap on the vault to clinch a gold medal for the American girls. Kerri Strug is 18 - but her teenage years have been spent under Karoli's control.
Watching the arrogant antics of Karoli - whose wife is the team coach - has soured me on gymnastics.
I'd like to see Strug send Karoli to the balance beam and order him to do a couple of cartwheels and handstands - with TV cameras catching every emotion.
And after noting the attitude of many of the players on our professional entry in basketball, where Scotty Pippen is the lowest paid at $2.25 million a year, does anyone else hope some unheralded nation makes a nightmare out of the Dream Team? by CNB