THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1996, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Tuesday, July 30, 1996 TAG: 9607300447
SECTION: SPORTS PAGE: C2 EDITION: FINAL
SOURCE: BOB MOLINARO
LENGTH: 64 lines
Eleven days ago, Evander Holyfield carried the torch into the stadium. Moments later, Muhammad Ali lit the Olympic flame.
Unless you've watched very closely, or kept your VCR humming 24-hours a day, Holyfield and Ali may have been the last boxers you've seen on NBC's coverage of the Summer Games.
``NBC?,'' said U.S. assistant boxing coach Pat Burns. ``You mean MBC, don't you? Minimal Boxing Coverage.''
Funny line. But nobody's laughing at the boxing tournament.
``Here are guys who already had everything against them,'' coach Al Mitchell said of his American fighters. ``They think nobody cares for them.''
NBC doesn't care. As everyone understands by now, the peacock is appealing to women viewers.
You aren't getting the Olympics on TV. You are seeing NBC's carefully edited, crafted version of the Olympics.
Mostly, you've been watching swimmers and gymnasts.
For the first week or more, NBC's coverage gave the impression that every Olympian grew up in Southern California with a swimming pool in the backyard or that they were raised in a home where the most prominent piece of furniture was a balance beam.
In the last few days, track and field has entered the programming picture. But at least until the medal round, boxing gets an eight count.
``The (boxing team is made up of Hispanics and blacks,'' Mitchell said. ``If we had one white kid who was outstanding, it would be a different ball game.''
Racism has nothing to do with this. But if Mitchell misses the point, so does NBC.
Television loves nothing more than to dramatize the hardships suffered by athletes striving to reach the Games.
Boxing is full of stuff like this. Competing at the Georgia Tech venue are athletes who have emerged from prison, a fatherless childhood, or grinding poverty to become Olympians.
David Diaz is a 140-pound fighter from Chicago. Sunday, a German bounced him out of medal consideration.
``The only thing I'm disappointed about,'' he said, ``is that I won't have anything to give my mother.''
His mother, a woman who raised nine children, suffers from a kidney disease.
Olympic boxing spawns more than great human interest stories; it has introduced us to some of our most celebrated American athletes.
Muhammad Ali, then Cassius Clay, came to prominence at the 1960 Games in Rome.
Long before he returned as an overstuffed, middle-aged warrior-huckster George Foreman was an Olympic sensation.
The exposure Sugar Ray Leonard received at the 1976 Games was the rocket that launched his pro career.
In 1984, the U.S. Olympic boxing team seemed to live on prime-time TV. Norfolk's Sweetpea Whitaker, Meldrick Taylor, Mark Breland and Holyfield shared the stage with Mary Lou Retton, Carl Lewis and the swimmers.
Apparently, attitudes have shifted.
Perhaps Olympic pugilists are suffering for the sins committed in the professional ranks. But the stories don't change at the boxing venue, where hungry kids still fight for their mothers, their country and their financial future.
Boxing's flame still burns at the Olympics. Just not on TV.
KEYWORDS: OLYMPIC GAMES 1996 by CNB