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Thursday, August 19, 2004 - Page updated at 12:00 A.M.
Olympics By Philip Hersh
OLYMPIA, Greece Vans dropped off the athletes in front of the last remaining arch of a tunnel that led from the religious sanctuary to the stadium more than 2,000 years ago. As they walked under the arch, they saw hillsides lined with thousands of spectators, as they would have 2,000 years ago. Ahead lay the dirt field, the stadium of ancient Olympia, that had been made into a throwing arena for one day in 2004. Adam Nelson of Atlanta walked under the arch three times yesterday, once in the morning, once in the late afternoon, once in the early evening. The third time, he was accompanied by women in white robes who placed olive wreaths on the heads of the top eight finishers in the men's and women's Olympic shot-put competitions. "Talk about Olympic spirit it triggers it just like that," Nelson said of his first trip under the arch. "It certainly brings out certain emotions in me as an Olympic athlete." As he left the arena after the ceremony, Nelson stopped to look at a mark in the sun-baked dirt, the mark that might have made him Olympic champion. His emotions then had nothing to do with ancient Olympic history, but instead were raw and immediate and personal. "Can I get to my wife, please?" Nelson asked the media waiting to talk with him. "I'll be right back." Nelson hugged Laci, his wife of six months, and they both began to cry. He had won a second straight Olympic silver medal, but this didn't feel as good as the first. "I didn't throw well at ancient Olympia," he said. And isn't that what this was supposed to be about, this return to the roots of the Olympic Games? It was coming back to a place where victory was so prized only one wreath was awarded, to the winner, to a stadium built not as a symbol but as a venue for fierce, intense competition. "I feel so small competing in this ancient place," said Kalliopi Ouzouni, one of Greece's two woman throwers, neither a finalist. The symbolism that has developed with the passing of time left a special patina on the medals that will be presented tomorrow at Olympic Stadium in Athens, but the alchemy of Olympia would not change Nelson's medal from silver to gold. "The only person to blame is myself," Nelson said. "I just went out and lost this competition." Nelson's first of six throws in the final, 69 feet, 5-1/4 inches, would not be bettered by anyone. Yuri Bilonog of Ukraine equaled it on his final throw, which meant the winner would be decided by his second-best mark. As he readied for his final throw, Nelson knew he had to top 69-5-1/4, because he had fouled on his other four attempts dropping the ball on one, falling on another. His last throw looked like a winner, but it also was a foul, so no measurement was given. But Nelson went for a look at where it landed, wondering about what might have been, deciding right then to keep going for another four years. What are four years when you are standing in a place where the Olympics first were contested 2,780 years ago? Historians mark the first Olympic Games at 776 B.C. Yesterday, past met present before the eyes of a global TV audience. There would be stifling heat and wind and blowing dust, and, if you were among the 15,000 sitting on the hillsides in the afternoon, ants would be crawling up your legs. It was just the way ancient historians described the atmosphere at the Olympics, where the spectacle was presumed to outweigh the discomfort. At this level, most athletes tend to get their chills from competition. Kristin Heaston of Palo Alto, Calif., whom the draw made the first to throw, will forever be known as the first woman to compete at Olympia. Women were barred from the ancient Games, even as spectators. Yet Heaston's first reaction was disappointment over not making the 12-woman final won by Irina Korzhanenko of Russia. "I probably needed to think a little more about what I was doing rather than what I was doing in history," Heaston said. "But how can this be negative?" American John Godina, who had won bronze and silver medals in the previous two Olympics, fouled on two of his three throws and failed to make the cut to the final eight. In the morning, Godina talked of wanting to imagine how it was in the old days, when some competitors were condemned to death if they did not win. Hours later, Godina felt too ill to stand and talk about his competitive demise. "I'm going to go over there," he told a meet official. And he walked away from the stadium, back under the arch, out of history to the van that would return him to the 21st century forever.
Copyright © 2004 The Seattle Times Company
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