MANCHESTER, England - For the first 53 minutes of the Olympic semifinal match, there wasn't anything too unusual. Well, the United States women's national soccer team was trailing Canada, so that was unusual, but aside from the underdog leading, it was pretty typical for an international soccer game. Canada was up 1-0 after a magnificent individual effort from Christine Sinclair, but then there was the traditional medley of great chances and near misses that are so common in good soccer games.
When Megan Rapinoe set up a corner kick for the United States early in the second half, the Americans had to be ruing all their missed chances, wondering what it would take to get one into Canada's net. It looked like another blown chance when Rapinoe sent the corner kick to the front post, where no teammates were waiting. But after a chaotic moment, where the ball, two Canadian defenders, and goalkeeper Erin McLeod converged on the near post, the ball somehow squeaked in.
At first glance, it looked like the Canadians deflected the ball in themselves, an own goal. That was fine, of course - they all counted the same. But after seeing the replay, the truth was revealed: Rapinoe had bent the ball in herself. Not only was it a fantastic goal, but it was a vital one, tying the game at 1-1.
But Sinclair wasn't impressed. Instead, she accepted the challenge. She scored her second of the game, knocking home a header off a corner kick, just 13 minutes after Rapinoe's goal, giving Canada the lead back. Then it was Rapinoe's turn again. Three minutes after Sinclair's goal, Rapinoe had the ball at the edge of the box, a good position for a cross. But she had no interest in that, instead drilling a shot off the post and into the net to tie the game again.
Again, Sinclair responded, scoring three minutes later on another header off a corner kick to finish the hat trick. Canada had its third lead of the match, and people who had been paying attention turned to the Americans to see how they would respond.
It wasn't the Americans who responded, but match referee Christina Pedersen, who awarded the Americans an indirect free kick in the penalty area after McLeod took too much time to release the ball. While the call was technically correct - she held the ball for more than 10 seconds when the rule allows for only 6 - it's one that's rarely called. For it to be called at this stage was almost unthinkable. On the ensuing free kick, Canada was called for a hand ball, which lead to Abby Wambach tying the game from the penalty spot.
At this point, Pedersen's interesting call overshadowed what had been a manic 26 minutes. In the period from Rapinoe's corner kick to Wambach's goal, five goals had been scored, some of them truly spectacular, and those 26 minutes were some of the best played on any soccer field that year. However, after the excitement of Wambach's goal, nobody could get the fourth goal. Wambach had two golden opportunities, sending one cross just wide and knocking another off the cross bar, but they were not to be.
With all 90 minutes, plus 30 minutes of extra time, used up, the clock was running down to its final minute before a penalty shootout would determine who would advance to the gold medal game. It seemed too bad - a game this hectic, this great didn't deserve to be decided by the randomness of penalties. But it looked like that's how it was going to end until Wambach sent a pass out wide toward Heather O'Reilly. O'Reilly chased it down, sent it into the box - right to the head of Alex Morgan, who, while falling down, knocked it in just under the crossbar.
And after scoring that goal, the goal that won perhaps the greatest women's soccer game ever played, Morgan didn't jump up and down. Instead, she just put her hands on her head, almost in shock. She couldn't believe she had scored. Nobody could believe what had happened. It was a truly brilliant ending to a brilliant game.
Showing posts with label Olympics. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Olympics. Show all posts
Tuesday, August 6, 2013
Friday, August 2, 2013
August 2, 2012: Gabby's Gold
LONDON - One of the first questions Gabby Douglas faced, with the gold medal still around her neck and the final chords of the Star Spangled Banner seemingly still hanging in the air, was the most predictable one: "What are your thoughts on becoming the first black woman to win the individual gold medal in gymnastics?"
Douglas' initial response was telling: "Oh gosh, I'd completely forgotten about that." And then she went to give a perfectly fine answer that was perfectly atypical of a 16-year-old being asked to speak extemporaneously on the world stage. But there was a moment there, however brief, when, just maybe, the color of her skin didn't matter. If she had forgotten it was an important moment, maybe it wasn't so important?
Of course, she could have been caught up in the whole proceedings. After the individual all-arounds were over, Douglas admitted she broke the cardinal rule of people in the lead by looking at the scoreboard. And she did so after every round. So she knew going into the floor routine that she had a .03-point lead, and that any slip would cost her the gold. But she didn't slip. Her music blared and she bounced around the mat like her legs were made of springs, and when she stuck the landing at the end of the routine, her big smile lit up the arena. Her closest competitors still had to go, but she knew she had won the gold.
And so came her moment, when the national anthem was played and she stood on the middle spot on the podium between two Russians who were supposed to defeat her handily. It was a moment when she momentarily forgot the historic significance, when instead of being the first woman of color to win, she simply became the third straight American woman to win all-around gold. Race didn't matter.
Or ... maybe it did. Because realistically, Gabby Douglas should have become more famous than she did. She had the great back story - she moved from Virginia to Iowa by herself at age 14 to train for this very moment - she had the great personality and the world-class smile. And sure, she got plenty of special notice at first from the late night talk shows and from Oprah and so on. But things didn't seem quite right.
Immediately after winning her gold, after all the compliments and people gushing about her life story, Douglas started to inexplicably face questions about her hair. And the problem was ... well, I'm not sure, really. That her hair wasn't picture perfect? It's hard to say. What was certain is that we were criticizing how a 16-year-old's hair looked while she was winning a gold medal.
Then Douglas completely faltered in the individual event finals, failing to medal in any of them after being so dominant in the all-around competition. That gave her the appearance of a flash in the pan, someone who had one great moment and would never begin to duplicate it. People started wondering if she was a fluke, that she won the gold medal that was destined to go to her teammate Jordyn Wieber (who, incidentally, got more publicity for crying after not making the all-around final than Douglas got for making it). Then McKayla Maroney was unimpressed with her silver in the vault and became exponentially more famous than Douglas.
That wasn't it, either. Douglas appeared on the cover of Corn Flakes, not Wheaties. That was weird. She spoke to Oprah about the difficulties of being a black gymnast, about the racial abuse she received in training in Iowa, and was instantly called a liar. She was the all-around gymnastics champion, but she already seemed to be getting pushed aside. It's not like she was getting ignored, per se, but it seemed more and more that when she made an appearance on a talk show, it was with her four other teammates.
And what, exactly, had she done? When she won, she was happy yet humble, was friendly and God-fearing, and showed the appropriate balance between awe at what she had done and the confidence that she knew all along what was going to happen. In short, she did everything right and nothing wrong.
It could mean nothing, of course. There have been times where the best athlete on a team is not the most famous, or second-most famous. It could be a coincidence.
Or it might not be.
No matter what, though, Gabby Douglas made history. Whether that kind of history is still important in 2012 is up for debate, but what she accomplished will never be taken away from her. Because she was more than just the first black gymnastics champion. On August 2, 2012, Gabby Douglas was the best gymnast in the world.
Douglas' initial response was telling: "Oh gosh, I'd completely forgotten about that." And then she went to give a perfectly fine answer that was perfectly atypical of a 16-year-old being asked to speak extemporaneously on the world stage. But there was a moment there, however brief, when, just maybe, the color of her skin didn't matter. If she had forgotten it was an important moment, maybe it wasn't so important?
Of course, she could have been caught up in the whole proceedings. After the individual all-arounds were over, Douglas admitted she broke the cardinal rule of people in the lead by looking at the scoreboard. And she did so after every round. So she knew going into the floor routine that she had a .03-point lead, and that any slip would cost her the gold. But she didn't slip. Her music blared and she bounced around the mat like her legs were made of springs, and when she stuck the landing at the end of the routine, her big smile lit up the arena. Her closest competitors still had to go, but she knew she had won the gold.
And so came her moment, when the national anthem was played and she stood on the middle spot on the podium between two Russians who were supposed to defeat her handily. It was a moment when she momentarily forgot the historic significance, when instead of being the first woman of color to win, she simply became the third straight American woman to win all-around gold. Race didn't matter.
Or ... maybe it did. Because realistically, Gabby Douglas should have become more famous than she did. She had the great back story - she moved from Virginia to Iowa by herself at age 14 to train for this very moment - she had the great personality and the world-class smile. And sure, she got plenty of special notice at first from the late night talk shows and from Oprah and so on. But things didn't seem quite right.
Immediately after winning her gold, after all the compliments and people gushing about her life story, Douglas started to inexplicably face questions about her hair. And the problem was ... well, I'm not sure, really. That her hair wasn't picture perfect? It's hard to say. What was certain is that we were criticizing how a 16-year-old's hair looked while she was winning a gold medal.
Then Douglas completely faltered in the individual event finals, failing to medal in any of them after being so dominant in the all-around competition. That gave her the appearance of a flash in the pan, someone who had one great moment and would never begin to duplicate it. People started wondering if she was a fluke, that she won the gold medal that was destined to go to her teammate Jordyn Wieber (who, incidentally, got more publicity for crying after not making the all-around final than Douglas got for making it). Then McKayla Maroney was unimpressed with her silver in the vault and became exponentially more famous than Douglas.
That wasn't it, either. Douglas appeared on the cover of Corn Flakes, not Wheaties. That was weird. She spoke to Oprah about the difficulties of being a black gymnast, about the racial abuse she received in training in Iowa, and was instantly called a liar. She was the all-around gymnastics champion, but she already seemed to be getting pushed aside. It's not like she was getting ignored, per se, but it seemed more and more that when she made an appearance on a talk show, it was with her four other teammates.
And what, exactly, had she done? When she won, she was happy yet humble, was friendly and God-fearing, and showed the appropriate balance between awe at what she had done and the confidence that she knew all along what was going to happen. In short, she did everything right and nothing wrong.
It could mean nothing, of course. There have been times where the best athlete on a team is not the most famous, or second-most famous. It could be a coincidence.
Or it might not be.
No matter what, though, Gabby Douglas made history. Whether that kind of history is still important in 2012 is up for debate, but what she accomplished will never be taken away from her. Because she was more than just the first black gymnastics champion. On August 2, 2012, Gabby Douglas was the best gymnast in the world.
Monday, February 28, 2011
February 28, 2010: Crosby the Golden Boy
VANCOUVER - There probably aren't enough words to describe what this gold medal would mean to the Canadians, just how important it would be to win this game. You can look at Canada's history in Olympic hockey before this game - seven gold medals, including one as recent as 2002 - and wonder why it's such a big deal, why it mattered.
But oh, did it matter. See, these Olympics were being held on Canadian ice. They were the home team, the one the crowd was behind. And despite all of Canada's Olympic success, they had never won hockey gold at home, never watched their flag lifted to the rafters own their own soil. So yah, it mattered.
Maybe it mattered a little too much. Because after crushing Norway in the first game, the unthinkable happened: Canada needed a shootout to beat Switzerland of all teams. Switzerland! Their next game wasn't much better, as they lost 5-3 to the Americans. So maybe things were getting a little tight around the collar. The loss to the Americans wasn't an upset to the level it was in, say, 1960 - this American team was full of NHL players, too. But the Americans were maybe fourth or fifth best in the world. Canada shouldn't have been losing to them.
The loss to the United States meant that Canada had to play an extra game to get to the medal round, and that they had to play Russia in the quarterfinals rather than in the final, ruining the final that everybody had expected. But maybe it was good for Canada to lose to the Americans in group play. Maybe it kicked them in the ass a little bit. They demolished Russia, dropped seven goals on them. Slovakia in the semifinals was a little tougher, but Canada still got past them with ease. That set up the final against ... team USA.
One of the biggest surprises of the 2010 Olympics wasn't that the United States got to the gold medal game, but the ease with which they got there. They were the top seeded team after group play, winning all three games by at least two goals. In the knockout rounds they had gotten past Switzerland and Finland with ease. That Finland game was the surprise. Finland was supposed to be better than the Americans, but team USA scored six on them. It was too easy. And it set up an all-North American gold medal game.
So often, highly anticipated matchups tend to let down, unable to live up to the increased hype. This was not the case for the 2010 gold medal game. The United States and Canada put on a display of beautiful, tense hockey, showing everything that was good and fun about the sport. The Canadians were the fast, skilled team, using crisp passing and wonderful individual skill to keep control of the puck. The Americans, not nearly as talented, nevertheless played smoothly as a unit, looking as if they had been playing together as a team for years rather than weeks. They didn't have the skilled shooters and passers of the Canadians, but they had the hard hitters and the help defenders. In short, the two teams that seemed to be so different, that seemed to have such a talent gap between them, turned out to be pretty evenly matched.
Still, though, despite the brilliant play from goalie Ryan Miller - by far the best goaltender of these Olympics - the Americans were down 2-1 in the final minute. They pulled Miller, got the extra attacker, and threw themselves at the net with fury. Finally, Zach Parise broke through with his fourth goal of the Olympics, pushing a rebound past Roberto Luongo with 24 seconds to play to tie the game.
It was the second time since the Olympics changed formats in hockey that the gold medal game had gone to overtime. The previous time, in 1994, also saw Canada give up a late goal. They lost that one in a shootout. They weren't going to let that happen again.
It happened seven minutes into overtime. Sidney Crosby - Canada's best young player since Lemieux, and the player who would shoulder most of the blame if his team failed - carried the puck into the zone. His first shot was stopped by Miller, and the puck went behind his net. As Crosby skated along the boards to set up the offense, he ran into the linesman, and the puck stopped where it was. That actually turned into a blessing for Canada. Two Americans that had been chasing Crosby went after the puck but lost the race to Jarome Iginla, who had been following the play along the boards. With two men converging on Iginla, he fed a return pass to Crosby, who sent it past Miller for the gold medal-winning goal.
The game was an immediate success. The matchup helped, but how close the game was brought it to new heights. In the United States, it was the most watched hockey game since the final in 1980. But that paled in comparision to the reception in Canada. It is estimated that two-thirds of the Canadian population was watching the moment Crosby scored his overtime goal. His goal sent Canada into a nationwide celebration, one that continued through that night's closing ceremonies and lasted well into the spring.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=F_koQujQ8Vg
But oh, did it matter. See, these Olympics were being held on Canadian ice. They were the home team, the one the crowd was behind. And despite all of Canada's Olympic success, they had never won hockey gold at home, never watched their flag lifted to the rafters own their own soil. So yah, it mattered.
Maybe it mattered a little too much. Because after crushing Norway in the first game, the unthinkable happened: Canada needed a shootout to beat Switzerland of all teams. Switzerland! Their next game wasn't much better, as they lost 5-3 to the Americans. So maybe things were getting a little tight around the collar. The loss to the Americans wasn't an upset to the level it was in, say, 1960 - this American team was full of NHL players, too. But the Americans were maybe fourth or fifth best in the world. Canada shouldn't have been losing to them.
The loss to the United States meant that Canada had to play an extra game to get to the medal round, and that they had to play Russia in the quarterfinals rather than in the final, ruining the final that everybody had expected. But maybe it was good for Canada to lose to the Americans in group play. Maybe it kicked them in the ass a little bit. They demolished Russia, dropped seven goals on them. Slovakia in the semifinals was a little tougher, but Canada still got past them with ease. That set up the final against ... team USA.
One of the biggest surprises of the 2010 Olympics wasn't that the United States got to the gold medal game, but the ease with which they got there. They were the top seeded team after group play, winning all three games by at least two goals. In the knockout rounds they had gotten past Switzerland and Finland with ease. That Finland game was the surprise. Finland was supposed to be better than the Americans, but team USA scored six on them. It was too easy. And it set up an all-North American gold medal game.
So often, highly anticipated matchups tend to let down, unable to live up to the increased hype. This was not the case for the 2010 gold medal game. The United States and Canada put on a display of beautiful, tense hockey, showing everything that was good and fun about the sport. The Canadians were the fast, skilled team, using crisp passing and wonderful individual skill to keep control of the puck. The Americans, not nearly as talented, nevertheless played smoothly as a unit, looking as if they had been playing together as a team for years rather than weeks. They didn't have the skilled shooters and passers of the Canadians, but they had the hard hitters and the help defenders. In short, the two teams that seemed to be so different, that seemed to have such a talent gap between them, turned out to be pretty evenly matched.
Still, though, despite the brilliant play from goalie Ryan Miller - by far the best goaltender of these Olympics - the Americans were down 2-1 in the final minute. They pulled Miller, got the extra attacker, and threw themselves at the net with fury. Finally, Zach Parise broke through with his fourth goal of the Olympics, pushing a rebound past Roberto Luongo with 24 seconds to play to tie the game.
It was the second time since the Olympics changed formats in hockey that the gold medal game had gone to overtime. The previous time, in 1994, also saw Canada give up a late goal. They lost that one in a shootout. They weren't going to let that happen again.
It happened seven minutes into overtime. Sidney Crosby - Canada's best young player since Lemieux, and the player who would shoulder most of the blame if his team failed - carried the puck into the zone. His first shot was stopped by Miller, and the puck went behind his net. As Crosby skated along the boards to set up the offense, he ran into the linesman, and the puck stopped where it was. That actually turned into a blessing for Canada. Two Americans that had been chasing Crosby went after the puck but lost the race to Jarome Iginla, who had been following the play along the boards. With two men converging on Iginla, he fed a return pass to Crosby, who sent it past Miller for the gold medal-winning goal.
The game was an immediate success. The matchup helped, but how close the game was brought it to new heights. In the United States, it was the most watched hockey game since the final in 1980. But that paled in comparision to the reception in Canada. It is estimated that two-thirds of the Canadian population was watching the moment Crosby scored his overtime goal. His goal sent Canada into a nationwide celebration, one that continued through that night's closing ceremonies and lasted well into the spring.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=F_koQujQ8Vg
Sunday, February 27, 2011
February 27, 1960: The original miracle
SQUAW VALLEY, Calif. - Before the college kids from 1980 could be compiled with the goal of beating the Soviet Union - heck, before some of them had even learned to walk - there was the original miracle, the original Olympic hockey upset.
The Soviet Union hockey team wasn't as highly regarded in 1960 as it had been in 1980, but they were still considered the best team in the world. They had won the gold in 1956, the first time they had entered the Olympic ice hockey competition, and they were favorites again in 1960 as the games came to California.
Meanwhile, not many people were paying attention to the United States team at these Olympics. Most people thought that if the Soviets were going to lose, it would be to either Canada or Czechoslovakia. But then the Americans shockingly beat Czechoslovakia in group play, then surprised even more people by beating the Canadians in the medal round.
This set up a matchup on February 27, 1960, between the unbeaten Americans and the unbeaten (but once tied) Soviets, in a game that would almost certainly determine the gold medal winner.
Trailing 2-1 after one period, the Americans tied the score in the second on a goal by Bill Christian, assisted by his brother, Roger. The game was on now. The play picked up, and it was a fast-paced, up-and-down affair between two gifted teams. There was no more scoring in the second period, and half the third period passed without a goal, either. Then, Bill Christian struck again, poking one home from right in front of the net to give the U.S. a 3-2 lead. Once again, he was assisted by his brother
From there, the Americans held on, winning 3-2 and making the standing-room-only crowd of more than 10,000 delirious.
The competition wasn't over yet. While the United States could do no worse than silver, they still had a rematch against Czechoslovakia the next day to clinch the gold. Earlier in the day, the Canadians shocked the Soviets, ensuring Canada of a medal and leaving the U.S. - Czechoslovakia game to decide it all.
After two periods, with the U.S. trailing 4-3, a famous scene occurred in the U.S. locker room. A member of the Soviet team came into the U.S. locker room. Not knowing English, he instead used gestures to suggest the American team take oxygen to refresh themselves for the third period. It was seemed as a great example of sportsmanship, but there was a reason for it - if the Czechs held on, the Russians would have been deprived of a medal. An American win would give the Soviets the bronze.
The Americans took the Russian's advice, taking the oxygen to recharge their batteries. They came out firing, outscoring the Czechs 6-0 in the third to win 9-4 and clinch the gold. Roger Christian scored a natural hat trick in the period to lead the U.S. to their unlikely medal.
In a unique family twist, Bill's son (and Roger's nephew) Dave would play on the 1980 U.S. Olympic team. The two teams are forever linked as the only U.S. Olympic hockey teams to win the gold medal. In the Soviet Union's history, they lost only six Olympic hockey games, and 1960 and 1980 represent the only two times the nation did not win the gold medal. Both times, the turning point was an upset loss to the Americans on American soil. And while the 1980 game is widely considered the greatest moment in American sports history, the 1960 game isn't too far behind.
The Soviet Union hockey team wasn't as highly regarded in 1960 as it had been in 1980, but they were still considered the best team in the world. They had won the gold in 1956, the first time they had entered the Olympic ice hockey competition, and they were favorites again in 1960 as the games came to California.
Meanwhile, not many people were paying attention to the United States team at these Olympics. Most people thought that if the Soviets were going to lose, it would be to either Canada or Czechoslovakia. But then the Americans shockingly beat Czechoslovakia in group play, then surprised even more people by beating the Canadians in the medal round.
This set up a matchup on February 27, 1960, between the unbeaten Americans and the unbeaten (but once tied) Soviets, in a game that would almost certainly determine the gold medal winner.
Trailing 2-1 after one period, the Americans tied the score in the second on a goal by Bill Christian, assisted by his brother, Roger. The game was on now. The play picked up, and it was a fast-paced, up-and-down affair between two gifted teams. There was no more scoring in the second period, and half the third period passed without a goal, either. Then, Bill Christian struck again, poking one home from right in front of the net to give the U.S. a 3-2 lead. Once again, he was assisted by his brother
From there, the Americans held on, winning 3-2 and making the standing-room-only crowd of more than 10,000 delirious.
The competition wasn't over yet. While the United States could do no worse than silver, they still had a rematch against Czechoslovakia the next day to clinch the gold. Earlier in the day, the Canadians shocked the Soviets, ensuring Canada of a medal and leaving the U.S. - Czechoslovakia game to decide it all.
After two periods, with the U.S. trailing 4-3, a famous scene occurred in the U.S. locker room. A member of the Soviet team came into the U.S. locker room. Not knowing English, he instead used gestures to suggest the American team take oxygen to refresh themselves for the third period. It was seemed as a great example of sportsmanship, but there was a reason for it - if the Czechs held on, the Russians would have been deprived of a medal. An American win would give the Soviets the bronze.
The Americans took the Russian's advice, taking the oxygen to recharge their batteries. They came out firing, outscoring the Czechs 6-0 in the third to win 9-4 and clinch the gold. Roger Christian scored a natural hat trick in the period to lead the U.S. to their unlikely medal.
In a unique family twist, Bill's son (and Roger's nephew) Dave would play on the 1980 U.S. Olympic team. The two teams are forever linked as the only U.S. Olympic hockey teams to win the gold medal. In the Soviet Union's history, they lost only six Olympic hockey games, and 1960 and 1980 represent the only two times the nation did not win the gold medal. Both times, the turning point was an upset loss to the Americans on American soil. And while the 1980 game is widely considered the greatest moment in American sports history, the 1960 game isn't too far behind.
Saturday, February 26, 2011
February 26, 1960: House of Jenkins
SQUAW VALLEY, Calif. - The 1950s were a great time for the Jenkins brothers of American figure skaters.
First came Hayes Jenkins, the older brother, who dominated from 1953 to 1956. After a disappointing fourth-place finish at the 1952 Winter Olympics, Hayes Jenkins began his four-year stretch of dominance, winning four straight World Championships and four straight U.S. Championships from 1953-56. He capped off his run with a gold medal at the 1956 Olympic games, after which he retired and married Carol Heiss, Olympic silver medalist in 1956 and gold medalist from 1960.
Following Hayes in the figure skating world was his brother David. David had good results in the world and U.S. circuits while his brother was dominating, but never broke through with a win. After getting a bronze behind his brother at the 1956 Olympics, David had his chance for the spotlight as his brother retired.
He took full advantage, duplicating his brother's feat of winning four straight U.S. Championships, giving the family eight championships in a row. David also won three straight World Championships, making it seven straight for the brothers.
The Jenkins family reached its pinnacle in the 1960 Winter Olympics held in California. At the absolute top of his game, David Jenkins cruised to his first gold medal, sweeping the first place votes from the judges. His gold gave the brothers two straight Olympic golds.
David Jenkins had a chance to win his fourth straight World Championship after the 1960 Olympics wrapped up, but he declined, choosing instead to turn professional. At the time he turned professional, a Jenkins had won the gold in a remarkable 17 straight major skating competitions.
First came Hayes Jenkins, the older brother, who dominated from 1953 to 1956. After a disappointing fourth-place finish at the 1952 Winter Olympics, Hayes Jenkins began his four-year stretch of dominance, winning four straight World Championships and four straight U.S. Championships from 1953-56. He capped off his run with a gold medal at the 1956 Olympic games, after which he retired and married Carol Heiss, Olympic silver medalist in 1956 and gold medalist from 1960.
Following Hayes in the figure skating world was his brother David. David had good results in the world and U.S. circuits while his brother was dominating, but never broke through with a win. After getting a bronze behind his brother at the 1956 Olympics, David had his chance for the spotlight as his brother retired.
He took full advantage, duplicating his brother's feat of winning four straight U.S. Championships, giving the family eight championships in a row. David also won three straight World Championships, making it seven straight for the brothers.
The Jenkins family reached its pinnacle in the 1960 Winter Olympics held in California. At the absolute top of his game, David Jenkins cruised to his first gold medal, sweeping the first place votes from the judges. His gold gave the brothers two straight Olympic golds.
David Jenkins had a chance to win his fourth straight World Championship after the 1960 Olympics wrapped up, but he declined, choosing instead to turn professional. At the time he turned professional, a Jenkins had won the gold in a remarkable 17 straight major skating competitions.
Thursday, February 24, 2011
February 24, 1980: Mission accomplished
LAKE PLACID, N.Y. - Herb Brooks was steaming mad. He didn't even know what to say. He was out of inspirational speeches, done with the "you can do it" attitude. The United States hockey team, two days after shocking the Soviet Union, playing with the gold medal on the line, was trailing Finland 2-1 entering the final period.
Everything they had worked for, all the celebrations they had touched off by beating the Soviets, would have been for naught had they lost this game. They could have been shut out of the medals completely had they lost, or at the very least allowed the Soviets to back into a gold. That was unacceptable.
Finally, Brooks thought of what he wanted to say. He stormed back into the locker room and looked around. Then, he spoke: "If you lose this game, you'll take it to your fucking graves." And he walked away.
It wasn't much, but it was direct. And it drove the point home. He didn't need to say anything else. The Americans were ready to play the third period right then and there, not wanting to wait out the rest of the intermission.
The final period the 1980 United States hockey team played together might go down as its best. Inspired by Brooks' message - or was it a threat? - they played a complete period, completely stifiling the Finnish attack. Just 2:25 into the third period, Phil Verchota scored the tying goal on a power play. Three minutes and 40 seconds later, Rob McClanahan gave them the lead, stuffing one home from point-blank range. The fans haven't stopped cheering since.
From there, the result seemed predetermined. When Mark Johnson scored a shorthanded goal with 3:35 left, the Americans' Miracle run was officially complete. They had won their improbable gold medal.
All that was left was the medal ceremony. After the national anthem had been performed, and after the players had received their medals, captain Mike Eruzione turned and called his team up to join him. The seen was chilling, and fitting; 20 men gathered together on a space designed to fit one, celebrating together one final time. The team that had inspired a nation giving everybody one final goosebump moment.
Everything they had worked for, all the celebrations they had touched off by beating the Soviets, would have been for naught had they lost this game. They could have been shut out of the medals completely had they lost, or at the very least allowed the Soviets to back into a gold. That was unacceptable.
Finally, Brooks thought of what he wanted to say. He stormed back into the locker room and looked around. Then, he spoke: "If you lose this game, you'll take it to your fucking graves." And he walked away.
It wasn't much, but it was direct. And it drove the point home. He didn't need to say anything else. The Americans were ready to play the third period right then and there, not wanting to wait out the rest of the intermission.
The final period the 1980 United States hockey team played together might go down as its best. Inspired by Brooks' message - or was it a threat? - they played a complete period, completely stifiling the Finnish attack. Just 2:25 into the third period, Phil Verchota scored the tying goal on a power play. Three minutes and 40 seconds later, Rob McClanahan gave them the lead, stuffing one home from point-blank range. The fans haven't stopped cheering since.
From there, the result seemed predetermined. When Mark Johnson scored a shorthanded goal with 3:35 left, the Americans' Miracle run was officially complete. They had won their improbable gold medal.
All that was left was the medal ceremony. After the national anthem had been performed, and after the players had received their medals, captain Mike Eruzione turned and called his team up to join him. The seen was chilling, and fitting; 20 men gathered together on a space designed to fit one, celebrating together one final time. The team that had inspired a nation giving everybody one final goosebump moment.
Wednesday, February 23, 2011
February 23, 1980: Five for Heiden
LAKE PLACID, N.Y. - Eric Heiden had planned to spend the night of February 22 resting up for the 10,000-meter speed skating event the next day. He needed the rest, too, having competed in each of the first four speed skating competitions at the 1980 Winter Olympics. The 10,000 meter race - about 6.2 miles - was by far the most grueling of the speed skating events, so he would be competing in the most physically demanding of the races after competing in four other ones in the previous eight days.
Plus, he had won all four events, so a victory in the 10,000 would give him an unprecedented sweep of the speed skating events and make him the first man to win five gold medals in a single Winter Olympics. Chasing history, and facing the most physically demanding of the races he would enter, Heiden should have been resting on the 22nd. He planned to be resting.
Then the Miracle on Ice happened, and all those plans went out the window. Heiden instead spent the night like so many other Americans did - cheering and celebrating all night. And really, who can blame him? Who would want to miss that party?
And so that is how Heiden showed up for the biggest race of his life tired and a little bit hung over, hoping to do just well enough to win his fifth gold.
Maybe all that partying was good for him. Or maybe his other competitors were Americans for a day the night before, also joining the celebration. Or maybe Heiden was just that good. Whatever the reason, he quickly and effortlessly turned the 10,000 into a runaway. Wearing his famous gold body suit, Heiden won without a challenge, beating silver medalist Piet Kleine by eight seconds and annihilating the world record, as well.
Heiden's strive for five gold medals made him the most popular individual athlete at the 1980 games. Though his story got overshadowed a bit by the Miraculous hockey team, his eight days in 1980 still rank as among the most impressive in Olympic history
Plus, he had won all four events, so a victory in the 10,000 would give him an unprecedented sweep of the speed skating events and make him the first man to win five gold medals in a single Winter Olympics. Chasing history, and facing the most physically demanding of the races he would enter, Heiden should have been resting on the 22nd. He planned to be resting.
Then the Miracle on Ice happened, and all those plans went out the window. Heiden instead spent the night like so many other Americans did - cheering and celebrating all night. And really, who can blame him? Who would want to miss that party?
And so that is how Heiden showed up for the biggest race of his life tired and a little bit hung over, hoping to do just well enough to win his fifth gold.
Maybe all that partying was good for him. Or maybe his other competitors were Americans for a day the night before, also joining the celebration. Or maybe Heiden was just that good. Whatever the reason, he quickly and effortlessly turned the 10,000 into a runaway. Wearing his famous gold body suit, Heiden won without a challenge, beating silver medalist Piet Kleine by eight seconds and annihilating the world record, as well.
Heiden's strive for five gold medals made him the most popular individual athlete at the 1980 games. Though his story got overshadowed a bit by the Miraculous hockey team, his eight days in 1980 still rank as among the most impressive in Olympic history
Tuesday, February 22, 2011
February 22, 1980: Believe
LAKE PLACID, N.Y. - When did the players first start to believe?
Was it during the pregame speech? The now-famous inspirational message Herb Brooks delivered that February afternoon, the one where he said that while the Soviets would probably beat the Americans nine times out of 10, it wouldn't happen today. The one where Brooks looked his players in the eyes and said "You were meant to be here. This moment is yours." Is that when they started to believe?
Or did they start to believe at the end of the first period, when Mark Johnson slipped between two defenders, grabbed the loose rebound, and fired the puck past Vladislav Tretiak just moments before the horn blew. Was that the moment? That shocking, lightning-in-a-bottle goal, the one that went in so quickly that it took a moment to figure out just what had happened? Is that when they started to believe?
Or did they start to believe at the start of the second period, when they looked over at the Soviet bench and saw Tretiak sitting there, pulled from the game. They were facing the best goaltender in the world at the time, the man who may have been the best goalie to ever play hockey, and they had knocked him out of the game. That had to be it, then. That had to be the moment when the Americans first started to believe that this was possible.
But they still had two periods to play. It wasn't a surprise when the Soviets took the lead after two periods. What was surprising was that it was only 3-2. The Americans were still in it. But they couldn't get anything past Vladimir Myshkin. Tretiak's replacement was playing better than Tretiak.
Then the penalty. Vladimir Krutov was called for high-sticking, and the Americans had a power play. For two minutes, they fired on Myshkin, trying to get something past him. Just as the power play ended, Dave Johnson hit the shot, sending one between Myshkin's legs to tie the game. Bedlam.
Is that when the fans at the game started to believe? It was one thing to hang with the Soviets. It was quite another to be tied with them in the middle of the third period. This had to be when they started to believe. This is when the "USA, USA" chants started to get loud. But still, there was one detail that some people probably couldn't get past: it was one thing to be tied with the Soviets, but it was another to have the lead. The Americans hadn't yet taken the lead.
Then Mark Pavelich had the puck along the boards. Mike Eruzione was alone in the high slot. Pavelich fell, but was able to send the puck along the ice. The pass came, the shot went. Red light. An explosion of sound. Eruzione ran, rather than skated, to the far boards, joining in the celebration with the crowd. The American bench emptied, everybody piling on their captain. Improbably, impossibly, unbelievably, they had done it.
One year earlier, Brooks had chosen his roster not based on who the best 20 players were, but which 20 players would best be able to beat the Soviets. They had been together for eight months, training together, eating together, never leaving each others' side, with the sole purpose of winning one game. This game. And now, with exactly 10 minutes to play, they were had the lead.
And that's when everybody started to believe. Even though there were still 10 minutes to play - 10 excruciating minutes, 10 of the longest minutes any hockey team would ever have to endure - people in the crowd, people watching on television at home, people everywhere, started to believe. The boys actually had a shot at this.
But the Soviets weren't known as the best hockey team in the world for nothing. The final 10 minutes was a display of offensive force unlike anybody, even the Americans, had ever seen. Shot after shot was fired at goalie Jim Craig. Shot after shot was turned away. And as more and more shots bounced helplessly away from the net, more and more people started to believe.
The final 30 seconds was pure cheering, pure adrenaline, pure excitement. This was actually happening. The Soviets weren't going to score. They kept firing, kept missing, kept losing the race to the loose pucks. Then the puck finally bounced to the stick of an American defenseman and was cleared out of the zone one final time. And then, with five seconds left, Al Michaels finally believed. At this point, his now-famous question was redundant: "Do you believe in miracles? Yes!"
Was it during the pregame speech? The now-famous inspirational message Herb Brooks delivered that February afternoon, the one where he said that while the Soviets would probably beat the Americans nine times out of 10, it wouldn't happen today. The one where Brooks looked his players in the eyes and said "You were meant to be here. This moment is yours." Is that when they started to believe?
Or did they start to believe at the end of the first period, when Mark Johnson slipped between two defenders, grabbed the loose rebound, and fired the puck past Vladislav Tretiak just moments before the horn blew. Was that the moment? That shocking, lightning-in-a-bottle goal, the one that went in so quickly that it took a moment to figure out just what had happened? Is that when they started to believe?
Or did they start to believe at the start of the second period, when they looked over at the Soviet bench and saw Tretiak sitting there, pulled from the game. They were facing the best goaltender in the world at the time, the man who may have been the best goalie to ever play hockey, and they had knocked him out of the game. That had to be it, then. That had to be the moment when the Americans first started to believe that this was possible.
But they still had two periods to play. It wasn't a surprise when the Soviets took the lead after two periods. What was surprising was that it was only 3-2. The Americans were still in it. But they couldn't get anything past Vladimir Myshkin. Tretiak's replacement was playing better than Tretiak.
Then the penalty. Vladimir Krutov was called for high-sticking, and the Americans had a power play. For two minutes, they fired on Myshkin, trying to get something past him. Just as the power play ended, Dave Johnson hit the shot, sending one between Myshkin's legs to tie the game. Bedlam.
Is that when the fans at the game started to believe? It was one thing to hang with the Soviets. It was quite another to be tied with them in the middle of the third period. This had to be when they started to believe. This is when the "USA, USA" chants started to get loud. But still, there was one detail that some people probably couldn't get past: it was one thing to be tied with the Soviets, but it was another to have the lead. The Americans hadn't yet taken the lead.
Then Mark Pavelich had the puck along the boards. Mike Eruzione was alone in the high slot. Pavelich fell, but was able to send the puck along the ice. The pass came, the shot went. Red light. An explosion of sound. Eruzione ran, rather than skated, to the far boards, joining in the celebration with the crowd. The American bench emptied, everybody piling on their captain. Improbably, impossibly, unbelievably, they had done it.
One year earlier, Brooks had chosen his roster not based on who the best 20 players were, but which 20 players would best be able to beat the Soviets. They had been together for eight months, training together, eating together, never leaving each others' side, with the sole purpose of winning one game. This game. And now, with exactly 10 minutes to play, they were had the lead.
And that's when everybody started to believe. Even though there were still 10 minutes to play - 10 excruciating minutes, 10 of the longest minutes any hockey team would ever have to endure - people in the crowd, people watching on television at home, people everywhere, started to believe. The boys actually had a shot at this.
But the Soviets weren't known as the best hockey team in the world for nothing. The final 10 minutes was a display of offensive force unlike anybody, even the Americans, had ever seen. Shot after shot was fired at goalie Jim Craig. Shot after shot was turned away. And as more and more shots bounced helplessly away from the net, more and more people started to believe.
The final 30 seconds was pure cheering, pure adrenaline, pure excitement. This was actually happening. The Soviets weren't going to score. They kept firing, kept missing, kept losing the race to the loose pucks. Then the puck finally bounced to the stick of an American defenseman and was cleared out of the zone one final time. And then, with five seconds left, Al Michaels finally believed. At this point, his now-famous question was redundant: "Do you believe in miracles? Yes!"
Monday, February 21, 2011
February 21, 2002: Hughes over Kwan
SALT LAKE CITY - This was supposed to be the year for Michelle Kwan. After years of dominating women's figure skating - to the tune of five World Championships and seven U.S. Championships - the only thing missing from her sparkling resumé was an Olympic gold medal. In the 1998 Olympics, after leading after the short program, Kwan ended up being caught by fellow American Tara Lipinski and just barely losing out on the gold.
Still, though, Lipinski was considered to be close to Kwan's equal, so that result wasn't so shocking. Entering the 2002 games, though, Kwan was viewed as the overwhelming favorite. Just as in 1998, Kwan was in the lead after the short program and seemed like she was in good position to win her elusive gold medal.
But along came Sarah Hughes. Though she had made a name for herself with her success on the juniors circuit, Hughes wasn't considered a strong gold medal contendor in the 2002 games. After the short program, she found herself in fourth place behind Kwan, Russia's Irina Slutskaya, and American Sasha Cohen. Hughes then skated the performance of her life, a flawless routine in the long program. Her scores put her in great position to get a medal, but she had to wait for the final three skaters to perform first.
Cohen, who had been in third, didn't impress in the long skate and fell on a jump, falling out of contention. Next to go was Slutskaya. While her performance didn't include any falls, there were several minor errors, just enough to keep her scores just barely under those of Hughes.
Last to go was Kwan, who had one skate left to try to win her elusive gold medal. She was skating wonderfully, and was nearly through her routine when disaster struck. Kwan hit the ice on one of her triple flips. Suddenly, shockingly, her gold medal run was over. And, also shockingly, the heretofore unknown Hughes was suddenly an Olympic champion.
Kwan recovered to earn bronze, her second Olympic medal, but the real story of the skating competition at the 2002 games - aside from the controversial judging throughout - was Hughes' surprising gold medal.
Still, though, Lipinski was considered to be close to Kwan's equal, so that result wasn't so shocking. Entering the 2002 games, though, Kwan was viewed as the overwhelming favorite. Just as in 1998, Kwan was in the lead after the short program and seemed like she was in good position to win her elusive gold medal.
But along came Sarah Hughes. Though she had made a name for herself with her success on the juniors circuit, Hughes wasn't considered a strong gold medal contendor in the 2002 games. After the short program, she found herself in fourth place behind Kwan, Russia's Irina Slutskaya, and American Sasha Cohen. Hughes then skated the performance of her life, a flawless routine in the long program. Her scores put her in great position to get a medal, but she had to wait for the final three skaters to perform first.
Cohen, who had been in third, didn't impress in the long skate and fell on a jump, falling out of contention. Next to go was Slutskaya. While her performance didn't include any falls, there were several minor errors, just enough to keep her scores just barely under those of Hughes.
Last to go was Kwan, who had one skate left to try to win her elusive gold medal. She was skating wonderfully, and was nearly through her routine when disaster struck. Kwan hit the ice on one of her triple flips. Suddenly, shockingly, her gold medal run was over. And, also shockingly, the heretofore unknown Hughes was suddenly an Olympic champion.
Kwan recovered to earn bronze, her second Olympic medal, but the real story of the skating competition at the 2002 games - aside from the controversial judging throughout - was Hughes' surprising gold medal.
Sunday, February 20, 2011
February 20, 1988: Battle of the Brians
CALGARY, Alberta - It was a natural rivalry: two men named Brian, one Canadian and one American, battling over the years for figure skating supremacy. Canadian Brian Orser got off to a faster start in his career, claiming the silver medal in the 1984 Olympics and finishing second at the 1985 World Championships. American Brian Boitano finished fifth at those same Olympics and third in the World Championships. It was only the beginning of the rivalry.
In 1986, Boitano broke through and beat Orser at the World Championships. The next year, Orser beat Boitano at the Worlds, held in Cincinnati. Seeing his rival take the World Championship from him on his home turf, Boitano became determined to return the favor for the next year's Olympics. He changed his program and got a new choreographer. Before long, the two skaters were considered virtually equal, and the 1988 Winter Olympics were highly anticipated as a way to settle the argument about who was better.
There were three stages to the Olympic figure skating competition in 1988: the compulsory, the short program, and the long program. Boitano was ahead after the compulsory skate, but Orser had the better scores in the short program. While Boitano was still ahead by a hair, the gold medal was going to come down to whomever won the long program portion.
Boitano went first, skating a technically perfect program with no mistakes. Orser went second, and wasn't quite as good, stepping out of one triple flip at the beginning and only doing one of his planned two triple axels. Still, the judges were split. Of the nine judges, four gave better marks to Orser and three gave them to Boitano. The remaining two had them tied, but both gave Boitano higher technical marks. Since the technical scores were the tiebreaker, those two judges' scores ended up in favor of Boitano, giving him the gold by a 5-4 margin.
Following the Olympics, both competed in the 1988 World Championships, with Boitano again beating Orser. That was the end of their competitive rivalry, as both turned professional after that.
While Boitano got the better of the head-to-head rivalry by winning the Olympic gold medal and two World Championships, Orser still had a career to be proud of. Along with his two Olympic silver medals, he never finished off the podium in his amateur career.
In 1986, Boitano broke through and beat Orser at the World Championships. The next year, Orser beat Boitano at the Worlds, held in Cincinnati. Seeing his rival take the World Championship from him on his home turf, Boitano became determined to return the favor for the next year's Olympics. He changed his program and got a new choreographer. Before long, the two skaters were considered virtually equal, and the 1988 Winter Olympics were highly anticipated as a way to settle the argument about who was better.
There were three stages to the Olympic figure skating competition in 1988: the compulsory, the short program, and the long program. Boitano was ahead after the compulsory skate, but Orser had the better scores in the short program. While Boitano was still ahead by a hair, the gold medal was going to come down to whomever won the long program portion.
Boitano went first, skating a technically perfect program with no mistakes. Orser went second, and wasn't quite as good, stepping out of one triple flip at the beginning and only doing one of his planned two triple axels. Still, the judges were split. Of the nine judges, four gave better marks to Orser and three gave them to Boitano. The remaining two had them tied, but both gave Boitano higher technical marks. Since the technical scores were the tiebreaker, those two judges' scores ended up in favor of Boitano, giving him the gold by a 5-4 margin.
Following the Olympics, both competed in the 1988 World Championships, with Boitano again beating Orser. That was the end of their competitive rivalry, as both turned professional after that.
While Boitano got the better of the head-to-head rivalry by winning the Olympic gold medal and two World Championships, Orser still had a career to be proud of. Along with his two Olympic silver medals, he never finished off the podium in his amateur career.
Saturday, February 19, 2011
February 19, 1984: Top twins
SARAJEVO - From an early age, the Mahre twins seemed destined for skiing greatness. Twins Phil and Steve Mahre literally grew up on the slopes, as their father was the manager of a ski area and moved the family into a house on the base of the slopes. Phil and Steve showed skiing promise from an early age, with a ski manufacturer sending them free equipment when they were 12, and an agent offered them a lifetime contract when they were 13.
At age 15, Phil made the U.S. downhill team, and he competed in the 1976 games as an 18-year-old. He started competing in the World Cup circuit regularly through the rest of the 1970s and broke through with a gold and a silver medal in the 1980 Olympics. He then followed that up with World Cup championships in each of the next three winters.
Steve, meanwhile, began to come into his own right about this time, winning eight World Cup races in the early 1980s. While Steve was never as accomplished as his twin brother, both were highly regarded in skiing circles when the 1984 Winter Olympics rolled around.
At the start of the slalom event in 1984, Steve Mahre held the lead after the first run, with Sweden's Jonas Nilsson in second and Phil Mahre in third. Phil, though, skiied flawlessly in his second run, taking the overall lead. He held onto his lead when Nilsson faltered and dropped out of medal contention. That left Steve as the only man standing between his brother and another gold medal. Steve was in a position where a near-flawless run would give him the gold, but that didn't happen. He made just enough mistakes on his second run to finish second, just two-tenths of a second behind his brother.
The 1-2 finish by the Mahre twins was just the highlight of a fantastic skiing performance by the Americans in Sarajevo. American men and women combined for five medals in the six events that year.
But nobody had a better day than the Mahre family on February 19. Not only did Phil and Steve finish 1-2, but, an hour before he won the gold, Phil's wife gave birth in Arizona. Phil didn't know about it until an interview after his race.
At age 15, Phil made the U.S. downhill team, and he competed in the 1976 games as an 18-year-old. He started competing in the World Cup circuit regularly through the rest of the 1970s and broke through with a gold and a silver medal in the 1980 Olympics. He then followed that up with World Cup championships in each of the next three winters.
Steve, meanwhile, began to come into his own right about this time, winning eight World Cup races in the early 1980s. While Steve was never as accomplished as his twin brother, both were highly regarded in skiing circles when the 1984 Winter Olympics rolled around.
At the start of the slalom event in 1984, Steve Mahre held the lead after the first run, with Sweden's Jonas Nilsson in second and Phil Mahre in third. Phil, though, skiied flawlessly in his second run, taking the overall lead. He held onto his lead when Nilsson faltered and dropped out of medal contention. That left Steve as the only man standing between his brother and another gold medal. Steve was in a position where a near-flawless run would give him the gold, but that didn't happen. He made just enough mistakes on his second run to finish second, just two-tenths of a second behind his brother.
The 1-2 finish by the Mahre twins was just the highlight of a fantastic skiing performance by the Americans in Sarajevo. American men and women combined for five medals in the six events that year.
But nobody had a better day than the Mahre family on February 19. Not only did Phil and Steve finish 1-2, but, an hour before he won the gold, Phil's wife gave birth in Arizona. Phil didn't know about it until an interview after his race.
Thursday, February 17, 2011
February 17, 2010: Golden girl
WHISTLER, B.C. - Lindsey Vonn was identified early on as the poster girl for the 2010 U.S. Olympic team. The combination of her good looks and her fearless racing style made her the featured athlete leading up to the games, appearing on television and in magazine spreads.
It helped that she had been successful, entering the Olymipcs with three straight World Cup championships. Though she had never been on an Olympic medal podium going into the 2010 games, she was widely expected to end that drought.
She got more attention just before the games by revealing that she had a bruised shin, which would make it difficult for her to compete. For her critics, this revelation was viewed as the beginnings of an excuse. Many felt that Vonn was starting to get nervous about the high expectations placed on her and was fabricating or exaggerating her injury in case she failed to live up to those lofty goals.
Regardless of the seriousness of her injury, the unseasonably warm weather in Vancouver gave Vonn extra time to heal and prepare, and she competed in her first event, the downhill, on February 17. Finally able to ski after months of anticipation, Vonn delivered, winning the gold over teammate Julia Mancuso by .56 seconds. While the win gave Vonn her first Olympic medal of any color, it also gave her the first downhill gold medal ever won by an American woman.
With the gold medal firmly in hand, Vonn could relax. In her mind, winning one gold justified the expectations on her, and she could ski more freely in the remaining events. This attitude may have cost her, as she crashed out in three of the four remaining events, claiming bronze in super-G. Despite winning medals in only two of the five events she entered, Vonn was happy with her Olympics, and her success seemed to justify the pre-Olympics attention she received.
It helped that she had been successful, entering the Olymipcs with three straight World Cup championships. Though she had never been on an Olympic medal podium going into the 2010 games, she was widely expected to end that drought.
She got more attention just before the games by revealing that she had a bruised shin, which would make it difficult for her to compete. For her critics, this revelation was viewed as the beginnings of an excuse. Many felt that Vonn was starting to get nervous about the high expectations placed on her and was fabricating or exaggerating her injury in case she failed to live up to those lofty goals.
Regardless of the seriousness of her injury, the unseasonably warm weather in Vancouver gave Vonn extra time to heal and prepare, and she competed in her first event, the downhill, on February 17. Finally able to ski after months of anticipation, Vonn delivered, winning the gold over teammate Julia Mancuso by .56 seconds. While the win gave Vonn her first Olympic medal of any color, it also gave her the first downhill gold medal ever won by an American woman.
With the gold medal firmly in hand, Vonn could relax. In her mind, winning one gold justified the expectations on her, and she could ski more freely in the remaining events. This attitude may have cost her, as she crashed out in three of the four remaining events, claiming bronze in super-G. Despite winning medals in only two of the five events she entered, Vonn was happy with her Olympics, and her success seemed to justify the pre-Olympics attention she received.
Wednesday, February 16, 2011
February 16, 2002: Oh no!
SALT LAKE CITY - It looked like nothing short of controlled chaos. It starts with a few laps of athletes skating in a line, getting their bearings. Then the speed picked up, the skaters in back looking for opportunities to pass. Then the final few laps, with passing and crashing and slipping and reaching. It was stunning.
Short track speed skating was introduced as a full-time Olympic sport in the 1992 games, but they started to gain a larger audience in the 2002 games in Salt Lake City. The sport was perfect for television, featuring athletes competing against each other rather than against the clock, and featuring high-speed passing and shocking collisions. It seemed like it was a perfect spectator sport.
One of the races that best exemplified the chaos that is short track skating was the 1,000 meter final on February 16, 2002. American Apolo Anton Ohno, perhaps the man most responsible for helping the sport grow in popularity in these Olympics, had made the final and appeared to be in good position as the skaters closed in on the finish. The race had everything that makes the sport so exhiliarating: smooth skating, building tension, an exciting finish. Oh, and a spectacular crash.
Ohno was skating near the front on the final lap with South Korea's Ahn Hyun-Soo and China's Li Jiajun when Li tried to pass on the inside. Li caught an edge and went down, taking out Ahn, Ohno, and Canadian Mathieu Turcotte with him. With the top four contenders sprawled on the ice, Australia's Steven Bradbury came home clean with a shocking gold medal. Meanwhile, in one of the lasting images in the sport, Ohno got up and scrambled toward the finish line, swinging his skate across the line just ahead of Turcotte to somehow claim a silver medal.
Americans unfamiliar with the sport were shocked and angry that Ohno lost a gold medal because of another skater's actions, not quite realizing that this was just a part of the sport. It helped when Ohno got a little bit of retribution later in the 1,500 meter event, winning the gold after first-place finisher Kim Dong-Sung was disqualified for blocking him. The judges' decision against Kim outraged many South Koreans, many of whom still dislike Ohno to this day.
Whether it's because of his popularity in America or his infamy in South Korea, Ohno is one of the most well-known athletes in short-track skating. His scramble across the finish line in 2002 is one of the main reasons why.
Short track speed skating was introduced as a full-time Olympic sport in the 1992 games, but they started to gain a larger audience in the 2002 games in Salt Lake City. The sport was perfect for television, featuring athletes competing against each other rather than against the clock, and featuring high-speed passing and shocking collisions. It seemed like it was a perfect spectator sport.
One of the races that best exemplified the chaos that is short track skating was the 1,000 meter final on February 16, 2002. American Apolo Anton Ohno, perhaps the man most responsible for helping the sport grow in popularity in these Olympics, had made the final and appeared to be in good position as the skaters closed in on the finish. The race had everything that makes the sport so exhiliarating: smooth skating, building tension, an exciting finish. Oh, and a spectacular crash.
Ohno was skating near the front on the final lap with South Korea's Ahn Hyun-Soo and China's Li Jiajun when Li tried to pass on the inside. Li caught an edge and went down, taking out Ahn, Ohno, and Canadian Mathieu Turcotte with him. With the top four contenders sprawled on the ice, Australia's Steven Bradbury came home clean with a shocking gold medal. Meanwhile, in one of the lasting images in the sport, Ohno got up and scrambled toward the finish line, swinging his skate across the line just ahead of Turcotte to somehow claim a silver medal.
Americans unfamiliar with the sport were shocked and angry that Ohno lost a gold medal because of another skater's actions, not quite realizing that this was just a part of the sport. It helped when Ohno got a little bit of retribution later in the 1,500 meter event, winning the gold after first-place finisher Kim Dong-Sung was disqualified for blocking him. The judges' decision against Kim outraged many South Koreans, many of whom still dislike Ohno to this day.
Whether it's because of his popularity in America or his infamy in South Korea, Ohno is one of the most well-known athletes in short-track skating. His scramble across the finish line in 2002 is one of the main reasons why.
Monday, February 14, 2011
February 14, 1988: Agony
CALGARY, Alberta - Hours before competing in the 500-meter speed skating event at the 1988 Winter Olympics, Dan Jansen had a phone conversation with his sister Jane. It was a poignant, personal conversation, one that inspired Jansen to do anything he could to win. Because, it turned out, it was the last conversation the brother and sister had with each other, as his sister died of leukemia shortly afterward.
He was the overwhelming favorite in the event, and he had the added inspiration of skating for the memory of his sister. Everything pointed to Dan Jansen becoming the feel-good story of the Calgary Olympics.
So what was he doing crashing into the wall?
Jansen's wipeout a mere eight seconds into his 500-meter race was one of the most heartbreaking slips in Olympic history. Here, it seemed that an inspiration story was ready for its final, courageous chapter to be written. Instead, it turned into devastation. Americans collectively screamed "no!" as Jansen hit the ice, then watched as the agony hit his face. Sitting on the ice, his head in his hands, Jansen was the picture of disappointment. Pure agony.
In time, Jansen became a tragic figure in speed skating. Three days later, he was on a world-record pace in the 1,000 meters when he again slipped and fell, this time 600 meters into the race, and again failed to finish. His next chance at Olympic glory came in 1992, and again he fell short. In 1994, he again failed to medal in the 500 meters, leaving him with one last Olympic race for a chance to get any medals. This time, he came through, winning the gold in the 1,000 meters. Finally vindicated, he skated a victory lap with his daughter, Jane, and everybody could finally forget about 1988.
He was the overwhelming favorite in the event, and he had the added inspiration of skating for the memory of his sister. Everything pointed to Dan Jansen becoming the feel-good story of the Calgary Olympics.
So what was he doing crashing into the wall?
Jansen's wipeout a mere eight seconds into his 500-meter race was one of the most heartbreaking slips in Olympic history. Here, it seemed that an inspiration story was ready for its final, courageous chapter to be written. Instead, it turned into devastation. Americans collectively screamed "no!" as Jansen hit the ice, then watched as the agony hit his face. Sitting on the ice, his head in his hands, Jansen was the picture of disappointment. Pure agony.
In time, Jansen became a tragic figure in speed skating. Three days later, he was on a world-record pace in the 1,000 meters when he again slipped and fell, this time 600 meters into the race, and again failed to finish. His next chance at Olympic glory came in 1992, and again he fell short. In 1994, he again failed to medal in the 500 meters, leaving him with one last Olympic race for a chance to get any medals. This time, he came through, winning the gold in the 1,000 meters. Finally vindicated, he skated a victory lap with his daughter, Jane, and everybody could finally forget about 1988.
Saturday, February 12, 2011
February 12, 1980: The first step
LAKE PLACID, N.Y. - A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step. Or in this case, a single shot.
The faceoff was in the Swedish zone. The United States, trailing 2-1, had an empty net behind them, going with the extra attacker in the hopes of getting that tying goal that would earn them a very important point in the standings. With 41 seconds left, the Americans won the faceoff clean, passing back to the blue line. The original shot was blocked, and the puck was tipped to keep it in the zone. Defenseman Bill Baker stepped up on the blue line to keep it in again, firing the puck back behind the net. In a scramble of yellow and blue sweaters, the puck worked around to the opposite board. Seeing an opening, Baker slipped into the slot...
The 1980 U.S. Olympic hockey team had been chosen in 1979 with the explicit goal of compiling a team capable of beating the Soviet Union. The players chosen, the game plan used, even the coaches picked were all done with an eye toward beating the greatest team in the world. Herb Brooks' team had played a year of exhibition matches in order to learn to play together, to develop the cohesiveness and stamina that would enable them to counter the powerful Soviet attack.
But as the 1980 Olympics finally began in Lake Placid, there were worries that all that had been for naught. Despite playing more than 60 exhibition games in the year leading up to the Olympics, the Americans had been crushed 10-3 by the Soviets in the final exhibition game before the Olympics. Even a closer loss would have given the country reason to hope, but a loss that devastating was bad for morale.
Then came the first game of group play. Since the Americans and Soviets were placed in different groups, the Americans would have to advance to the medal round to get their shot at the Soviets. The two teams standing in their way of that goal were Sweden and Czechoslovakia, who happened to be the Americans' first two opponents.
In game 1 against Sweden, the Americans trailed 1-0 after one period, and it looked like that would be the score after two periods, as well, Dave Silk scored with 28 seconds left in the period to tie the score entering the third. Sweden scored early in the third to put the Americans into catch-up mode again.
It took nearly the entire period - and the extra attacker that came after pulling goalie Jim Craig - until they finally broke through. With the puck against the side boards, Mark Pavelich saw Baker slip down off the blue line and into the slot. The pass was perfect, the shot a one-timer. Red light flashing. Tie game.
It was just one shot in the opening game, but Baker's shot helped propel the United States. Now confident that they could play with anybody in the world, the United States went undefeated in group play, setting up their showdown with the Soviets.
The faceoff was in the Swedish zone. The United States, trailing 2-1, had an empty net behind them, going with the extra attacker in the hopes of getting that tying goal that would earn them a very important point in the standings. With 41 seconds left, the Americans won the faceoff clean, passing back to the blue line. The original shot was blocked, and the puck was tipped to keep it in the zone. Defenseman Bill Baker stepped up on the blue line to keep it in again, firing the puck back behind the net. In a scramble of yellow and blue sweaters, the puck worked around to the opposite board. Seeing an opening, Baker slipped into the slot...
The 1980 U.S. Olympic hockey team had been chosen in 1979 with the explicit goal of compiling a team capable of beating the Soviet Union. The players chosen, the game plan used, even the coaches picked were all done with an eye toward beating the greatest team in the world. Herb Brooks' team had played a year of exhibition matches in order to learn to play together, to develop the cohesiveness and stamina that would enable them to counter the powerful Soviet attack.
But as the 1980 Olympics finally began in Lake Placid, there were worries that all that had been for naught. Despite playing more than 60 exhibition games in the year leading up to the Olympics, the Americans had been crushed 10-3 by the Soviets in the final exhibition game before the Olympics. Even a closer loss would have given the country reason to hope, but a loss that devastating was bad for morale.
Then came the first game of group play. Since the Americans and Soviets were placed in different groups, the Americans would have to advance to the medal round to get their shot at the Soviets. The two teams standing in their way of that goal were Sweden and Czechoslovakia, who happened to be the Americans' first two opponents.
In game 1 against Sweden, the Americans trailed 1-0 after one period, and it looked like that would be the score after two periods, as well, Dave Silk scored with 28 seconds left in the period to tie the score entering the third. Sweden scored early in the third to put the Americans into catch-up mode again.
It took nearly the entire period - and the extra attacker that came after pulling goalie Jim Craig - until they finally broke through. With the puck against the side boards, Mark Pavelich saw Baker slip down off the blue line and into the slot. The pass was perfect, the shot a one-timer. Red light flashing. Tie game.
It was just one shot in the opening game, but Baker's shot helped propel the United States. Now confident that they could play with anybody in the world, the United States went undefeated in group play, setting up their showdown with the Soviets.
Thursday, February 10, 2011
February 10, 1968: Skating's turning point
GRENOBLE, France - Standing on its own, the story could be summarized in one sentence: "After building a big lead in the compulsory portion, American college student Peggy Fleming cruised to the gold medal today in the women's figure skating competition at the Winter Olympics." Simple, to the point, a good AP lede if you ever saw one.
But if you dig a little deeper into the story, Fleming's victory in 1968 was more than just another American gold medal. Using proper context, you can see just how much Fleming's skating meant to America and her sport.
From a technical standpoint, Fleming represented one of the last of the ballerina-style figure skaters. Standing only 5'4" and weighing just 115 pounds, Fleming stood out against her other competitors because of her apparent lack of an athletic body. While most female figure skaters had started building their bodies like those of the men, bringing the sport in an athletic rather than artistic direction, Fleming represented those who preferred the artistry of the sport.
From a confidence standpoint, Fleming's victory was huge, as she was the only American athlete to win a gold medal at the Grenoble Olympics. Nothing would have been more embarassing to America than getting shut out of the medal table, and Fleming made sure that didn't happen.
From a revitalization standpoint, Fleming may have saved American figure skating. After the entire team died in a 1961 plane crash, many wondered if the United States would ever be competitive in the sport again. Fleming showed that yes, the Americans could bounce back, and that they'd be a force to be reckoned with in future Olympics.
And from a publicity standpoint, Fleming played a big role in making the Winter Olympics popular in America. The 1968 games were the first ones to be broadcast in color (and the first to feature the "Bugler's Dream" theme song), and ABC needed successful stories to carry its broadcast. Fleming's success and care-free attitude - she openly admitted that she often skated at a weight 5-10 pounds heavier than she preferred because she had a weakness for chocolate cake - helped make her among the most popular female athletes in America.
So yah, you could see the results of the 1968 Olympics and summarize figure skating in one sentence. But dig a little deeper, and Fleming's victory becomes so much more.
But if you dig a little deeper into the story, Fleming's victory in 1968 was more than just another American gold medal. Using proper context, you can see just how much Fleming's skating meant to America and her sport.
From a technical standpoint, Fleming represented one of the last of the ballerina-style figure skaters. Standing only 5'4" and weighing just 115 pounds, Fleming stood out against her other competitors because of her apparent lack of an athletic body. While most female figure skaters had started building their bodies like those of the men, bringing the sport in an athletic rather than artistic direction, Fleming represented those who preferred the artistry of the sport.
From a confidence standpoint, Fleming's victory was huge, as she was the only American athlete to win a gold medal at the Grenoble Olympics. Nothing would have been more embarassing to America than getting shut out of the medal table, and Fleming made sure that didn't happen.
From a revitalization standpoint, Fleming may have saved American figure skating. After the entire team died in a 1961 plane crash, many wondered if the United States would ever be competitive in the sport again. Fleming showed that yes, the Americans could bounce back, and that they'd be a force to be reckoned with in future Olympics.
And from a publicity standpoint, Fleming played a big role in making the Winter Olympics popular in America. The 1968 games were the first ones to be broadcast in color (and the first to feature the "Bugler's Dream" theme song), and ABC needed successful stories to carry its broadcast. Fleming's success and care-free attitude - she openly admitted that she often skated at a weight 5-10 pounds heavier than she preferred because she had a weakness for chocolate cake - helped make her among the most popular female athletes in America.
So yah, you could see the results of the 1968 Olympics and summarize figure skating in one sentence. But dig a little deeper, and Fleming's victory becomes so much more.
Saturday, February 5, 2011
February 5, 1932: Three generations
UPDATE: This event has been replaced. See the new entry here.
LAKE PLACID, N.Y. - The speed skating competition at the 1932 Winter Olympics was unique among Olympiads because of its format. Instead of competing in heats like speed skating was normally done, all competitors were on the track at the same time - think of today's short-track speed skating. It's the only time in Olympic history this was tried in long-track speed skating.
Another thing that stands out for the speed skating in 1932 was American dominance. American men won all four gold medals in speed skating on their home ice, and while speed skating was only a demonstration sport for women in 1932, American women finished first in two of the three events.
On February 5, 1932, Jack Shea made history by becoming the first American to win two gold medals in the same Winter Olympics when he added the 500-meter gold to the 1,500-meter one he had already won. Shea was first only by a matter of scheduling, as fellow American Irving Jaffee won gold in both the 5,000- and 10,000-meter skating events.
Shea's biggest impact to the Olympics came years later, though. In 1964, Jack's son Jim competed in the cross-country and Nordic combined skiing events at the Olympics, and then in 2002, Jim Jr., son of Jim and grandson of Jack, competed in the skeleton at the Salt Lake City games. With Jim Jr.'s success, the Sheas became the first family to have three generations of Olympic athletes. While Jack was able to participate in the torch relay leading up to the 2002 games, he was killed in a car accident just 17 days before his grandson could compete. Jim Jr. honored his grandfather's memory, though, winning a gold medal 70 years after his grandpa had won two.
LAKE PLACID, N.Y. - The speed skating competition at the 1932 Winter Olympics was unique among Olympiads because of its format. Instead of competing in heats like speed skating was normally done, all competitors were on the track at the same time - think of today's short-track speed skating. It's the only time in Olympic history this was tried in long-track speed skating.
Another thing that stands out for the speed skating in 1932 was American dominance. American men won all four gold medals in speed skating on their home ice, and while speed skating was only a demonstration sport for women in 1932, American women finished first in two of the three events.
On February 5, 1932, Jack Shea made history by becoming the first American to win two gold medals in the same Winter Olympics when he added the 500-meter gold to the 1,500-meter one he had already won. Shea was first only by a matter of scheduling, as fellow American Irving Jaffee won gold in both the 5,000- and 10,000-meter skating events.
Shea's biggest impact to the Olympics came years later, though. In 1964, Jack's son Jim competed in the cross-country and Nordic combined skiing events at the Olympics, and then in 2002, Jim Jr., son of Jim and grandson of Jack, competed in the skeleton at the Salt Lake City games. With Jim Jr.'s success, the Sheas became the first family to have three generations of Olympic athletes. While Jack was able to participate in the torch relay leading up to the 2002 games, he was killed in a car accident just 17 days before his grandson could compete. Jim Jr. honored his grandfather's memory, though, winning a gold medal 70 years after his grandpa had won two.
Friday, February 4, 2011
February 4, 1948: Double axel
UPDATE: This event has been replaced. See the new entry here.
ST. MORITZ, Switzerland - The 1948 Winter Olympics were the first ones since the 1936 games in Germany. The games had been awarded to Sapporo, Japan, but Japan later declined to host because the preparations were draining valuable resources that Japan would need to invade or bomb half the Pacific. The Olympic organizers tried to return the games to Garmisch-Partenkirchen, Germany, which had hosted them in 1936, but that became awkward when Germany invaded Poland and, eventually, half of Europe. A third attempt was made, this time in Finland, but that became uncomfortable when the Soviet Union annexed Finland, so the decision was finally made to scrap the 1940 games.
The Olympic committee had hopes for 1944, but since those games were scheduled for Cortina d'Ampezzo, Italy, another awkward situation came up. For the second straight winter, the Olympics were cancelled. When 1948 rolled around, the IOC was desperate to hold the games in any way possible. The finalists for hosts were Lake Placid, N.Y., and St. Moritz, Switzerland. Since Switzerland had been neutral throughout World War II, the IOC chose St. Moritz, hoping the city could bring the Olympics back in style.
Meanwhile, in the United States, a young figure skater named Dick Button was likely couting his blessings. Born in 1929, and thus too young to serve in World War II, Button spent his youth working with the best figure skating coaches in the country, preparing for his opportunity to compete in the Olympics. Entring the 1948 season, Button had won the national championship at his age level three straight times, plus a North American championship. He had also finished second in the first World Championships after the war, finishing behind only Switzerland's Hans Gerschwiler.
When the Olympics rolled around, Gerschwiler and Button were considered the two favorites. Still only 18 years old, Button had proven himself a worthy challenger to the 27-year-old Gerschwiler on the international stage. When the figure skating competition rolled around, Button got off to a great start, taking a sizeable lead on Gerschwiler after the figures (compulsory) portion of the competition. But he wasn't about to rest on his laurels.
Button had been practicing a double axel jump for a couple years leading up to the Olympics, but had never landed it in practice and thus had never tried it in competition. But the day before the free skate portion of the competition, he landed it in practice for the first time and decided to add it to his performance. On February 4, 1948, aided by the first successful double axel in figure skating history, Dick Button became the first American to win the gold medal in men's figure skating. He also became the youngest man to win a figure skating gold medal, a mark he still holds.
Button successfully defended his gold medal in the 1952 Olympics, where he became the first man to land a triple jump of any kind in competition. He remains the only American to win two straight Olympic figure skating gold medals.
ST. MORITZ, Switzerland - The 1948 Winter Olympics were the first ones since the 1936 games in Germany. The games had been awarded to Sapporo, Japan, but Japan later declined to host because the preparations were draining valuable resources that Japan would need to invade or bomb half the Pacific. The Olympic organizers tried to return the games to Garmisch-Partenkirchen, Germany, which had hosted them in 1936, but that became awkward when Germany invaded Poland and, eventually, half of Europe. A third attempt was made, this time in Finland, but that became uncomfortable when the Soviet Union annexed Finland, so the decision was finally made to scrap the 1940 games.
The Olympic committee had hopes for 1944, but since those games were scheduled for Cortina d'Ampezzo, Italy, another awkward situation came up. For the second straight winter, the Olympics were cancelled. When 1948 rolled around, the IOC was desperate to hold the games in any way possible. The finalists for hosts were Lake Placid, N.Y., and St. Moritz, Switzerland. Since Switzerland had been neutral throughout World War II, the IOC chose St. Moritz, hoping the city could bring the Olympics back in style.
Meanwhile, in the United States, a young figure skater named Dick Button was likely couting his blessings. Born in 1929, and thus too young to serve in World War II, Button spent his youth working with the best figure skating coaches in the country, preparing for his opportunity to compete in the Olympics. Entring the 1948 season, Button had won the national championship at his age level three straight times, plus a North American championship. He had also finished second in the first World Championships after the war, finishing behind only Switzerland's Hans Gerschwiler.
When the Olympics rolled around, Gerschwiler and Button were considered the two favorites. Still only 18 years old, Button had proven himself a worthy challenger to the 27-year-old Gerschwiler on the international stage. When the figure skating competition rolled around, Button got off to a great start, taking a sizeable lead on Gerschwiler after the figures (compulsory) portion of the competition. But he wasn't about to rest on his laurels.
Button had been practicing a double axel jump for a couple years leading up to the Olympics, but had never landed it in practice and thus had never tried it in competition. But the day before the free skate portion of the competition, he landed it in practice for the first time and decided to add it to his performance. On February 4, 1948, aided by the first successful double axel in figure skating history, Dick Button became the first American to win the gold medal in men's figure skating. He also became the youngest man to win a figure skating gold medal, a mark he still holds.
Button successfully defended his gold medal in the 1952 Olympics, where he became the first man to land a triple jump of any kind in competition. He remains the only American to win two straight Olympic figure skating gold medals.
Wednesday, January 26, 2011
January 26, 1924: Winter gold
CHAMONIX, France - For a few years, events like figure skating and ice hockey were held during the Summer Olympics. It was an awkward setup, and though the medals awarded in those events were considered legitimate, the organizers of those sports wanted a more prominient showcase for their events.
In 1924, the French Olympic Committee organized International Winter Sports Week, to be held the same year as the Summer Olympics. Taking place in Chamonix, at the foot of Mont Blanc, the competition allowed sports such as figure skating, speed skating, hockey, and skiing to have their moment of glory in a more natural setting.
Though they weren't referred to at the time as such, these events came to be known retroactively as the first Winter Olympic Games. As such, many Olympic firsts were set during this week in France.
And as for the very first winter Olympic gold medal? That honor went to Charles Jewtraw of the United States, who won gold in the 500 meter speed skating event, the first event held at Chamonix. The gold Jewtraw won was the only medal he won in his Olympic career and was the only American gold medal at the Chamonix games. In fact, he was the only man from outside Scandinavia to win a medal of any color in speed skating in the first two Olympics.
In 1924, the French Olympic Committee organized International Winter Sports Week, to be held the same year as the Summer Olympics. Taking place in Chamonix, at the foot of Mont Blanc, the competition allowed sports such as figure skating, speed skating, hockey, and skiing to have their moment of glory in a more natural setting.
Though they weren't referred to at the time as such, these events came to be known retroactively as the first Winter Olympic Games. As such, many Olympic firsts were set during this week in France.
And as for the very first winter Olympic gold medal? That honor went to Charles Jewtraw of the United States, who won gold in the 500 meter speed skating event, the first event held at Chamonix. The gold Jewtraw won was the only medal he won in his Olympic career and was the only American gold medal at the Chamonix games. In fact, he was the only man from outside Scandinavia to win a medal of any color in speed skating in the first two Olympics.
Monday, October 18, 2010
October 18, 1968: Thin Air
MEXICO CITY - Going into the 1968 Summer Olympics, organizers were worried about how Mexico City's thin air would affect distance runners. The Olympics had never been held at an altitude anywhere close to the 7,300 feet athletes would have to endure in Mexico, and there were worries about adverse affects to some athletes.
Another thing that was expected, though, was for records to fall all over the place in the jumping events on the track. With much less air pressure holding them down, it was thought that the 1968 games would feature many new records in the sprinting and jumping events.
The predictions were correct, as world records were set in nine of the 23 men's track events and in seven of the 12 women's competitions. The men's triple jump was especially exciting, with the record falling four different times in the course of the competition.
The biggest splash, though, came in the long jump. Ralph Boston was the world record holder, having jumped 27 feet, 4 inches in 1965. He also held the Olympic record of 26 feet 7.5 inches set in 1960. Boston had broken the long jump record six times by himself in the 1960s and had gained a great deal of fame in 1960 by breaking the record Jesse Owens had set in 1936. Though he was no longer the national champion, Boston was still a well-known and highly regarded jumper when the 1968 games rolled around.
But Boston quickly became an afterthought in Mexico. On his first jump of the competition, Bob Beamon stunned the world with a jump of 8.90 meters, or 29 feet, 2.5 inches, a new world record by a landslide.
It wasn't the world record that stunned people - with how often the record had been broken in the 1960s, a new one was expected to be a given in these games. What was stunning was the margin by which the record had been broken. In his decade of long-jump dominance, Boston had extended the world record distance by 14 inches past Owens' 1936 mark. Beamon had just eclipsed the record by a stunning 22 inches. While Boston was the first man to jump 27 feet. Beamon had, in one jump, become the first man to clear both the 28-foot barrier and the 29-foot barrier. It was an absolutely stunning display. So stunning, in fact, that he had jumped beyond the measuring equipment that had been set up, forcing officials to find and bring in a manual tape measure.
For all practical purposes, the event was already over. Even though three more competitors reach distances that would have been Olympic records before Beamon jumped, nobody could come close to Beamon, and he easily won gold. In fact, it took 23 years for anybody to get close to Beamon, with Mike Powell finally breaking the record in 1991. Beamon's mark remains the Olympic record, and Beamon and Powell remain the only two men to ever jump 29 feet in official competition.
HONORABLE MENTION
OCTOBER 18, 1924: A pair of college football games taking place 850 miles have had lasting effect in college football lore. In Champaign, Illinois, in the first game in the new Memorial Stadium, Illinois hosted Michigan, which had entered the game on a 20-game winning streak. The Wolverines had never faced Red Grange, though. The Illinois back returned the opening kickoff 95 yards for a touchdown, then added touchdown rns of 67, 56, and 44 yards, all in the game's first 12 minutes. Grange added another touchdown run and a scoring pass to lead Illinois to a 39-14 win. After the game, a pair of newspaper accounts referred to him as the Galloping Ghost, a nickname Grange held for the rest of his life. Another newspaper story made that day's Notre Dame-Army game live on in history, as well. After Notre Dame won 13-7, Grantland Rice wrote the most famous lead in college football history:
Outlined against a blue-gray October sky, the Four Horsemen rode again. In dramatic lore their names are Death, Destruction, Pestilence, and Famine. But those are aliases. Their real names are: Stuhldreher, Crowley, Miller and Layden. They formed the crest of the South Bend cyclone before which another fighting Army team was swept over the precipice at the Polo Grounds this afternoon as 55,000 spectators peered down upon the bewildering panorama spread out upon the green plain below.
Another thing that was expected, though, was for records to fall all over the place in the jumping events on the track. With much less air pressure holding them down, it was thought that the 1968 games would feature many new records in the sprinting and jumping events.
The predictions were correct, as world records were set in nine of the 23 men's track events and in seven of the 12 women's competitions. The men's triple jump was especially exciting, with the record falling four different times in the course of the competition.
The biggest splash, though, came in the long jump. Ralph Boston was the world record holder, having jumped 27 feet, 4 inches in 1965. He also held the Olympic record of 26 feet 7.5 inches set in 1960. Boston had broken the long jump record six times by himself in the 1960s and had gained a great deal of fame in 1960 by breaking the record Jesse Owens had set in 1936. Though he was no longer the national champion, Boston was still a well-known and highly regarded jumper when the 1968 games rolled around.
But Boston quickly became an afterthought in Mexico. On his first jump of the competition, Bob Beamon stunned the world with a jump of 8.90 meters, or 29 feet, 2.5 inches, a new world record by a landslide.
It wasn't the world record that stunned people - with how often the record had been broken in the 1960s, a new one was expected to be a given in these games. What was stunning was the margin by which the record had been broken. In his decade of long-jump dominance, Boston had extended the world record distance by 14 inches past Owens' 1936 mark. Beamon had just eclipsed the record by a stunning 22 inches. While Boston was the first man to jump 27 feet. Beamon had, in one jump, become the first man to clear both the 28-foot barrier and the 29-foot barrier. It was an absolutely stunning display. So stunning, in fact, that he had jumped beyond the measuring equipment that had been set up, forcing officials to find and bring in a manual tape measure.
For all practical purposes, the event was already over. Even though three more competitors reach distances that would have been Olympic records before Beamon jumped, nobody could come close to Beamon, and he easily won gold. In fact, it took 23 years for anybody to get close to Beamon, with Mike Powell finally breaking the record in 1991. Beamon's mark remains the Olympic record, and Beamon and Powell remain the only two men to ever jump 29 feet in official competition.
HONORABLE MENTION
OCTOBER 18, 1924: A pair of college football games taking place 850 miles have had lasting effect in college football lore. In Champaign, Illinois, in the first game in the new Memorial Stadium, Illinois hosted Michigan, which had entered the game on a 20-game winning streak. The Wolverines had never faced Red Grange, though. The Illinois back returned the opening kickoff 95 yards for a touchdown, then added touchdown rns of 67, 56, and 44 yards, all in the game's first 12 minutes. Grange added another touchdown run and a scoring pass to lead Illinois to a 39-14 win. After the game, a pair of newspaper accounts referred to him as the Galloping Ghost, a nickname Grange held for the rest of his life. Another newspaper story made that day's Notre Dame-Army game live on in history, as well. After Notre Dame won 13-7, Grantland Rice wrote the most famous lead in college football history:
Outlined against a blue-gray October sky, the Four Horsemen rode again. In dramatic lore their names are Death, Destruction, Pestilence, and Famine. But those are aliases. Their real names are: Stuhldreher, Crowley, Miller and Layden. They formed the crest of the South Bend cyclone before which another fighting Army team was swept over the precipice at the Polo Grounds this afternoon as 55,000 spectators peered down upon the bewildering panorama spread out upon the green plain below.
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