Cheers,Jeers in Moscow

By Stephen Smith

Despite no-shows, the show must--and does--go on

The scene at the Olympic Village suggested nothing unusual, nothing untoward. Athletes lolled in the early morning sun and sipped tea at umbrella-topped tables. In the distance, hurdlers could be seen skimming over the practice field. National flags fluttered from competitors' windows, the bunting of innocent patriotism.

Moscow itself sparkled with freshly painted buildings and manicured gardens. Everything seemed technically right--the food was good, the subways and buses were prompt, even the press center met the demanding standards of Western journalists. "It is a revelation," gushed a Soviet newsman. "The computerization, the mechanization--nothing in Russia has ever been done to such a high standard."

Yet no amount of cold, planners' efficiency or warm, individual hospitality could mask the sense that things were not quite what they had been meant to be at the 1980 Olympic Games. The reason, of course, was the fact that more than 30 nations, including the U.S., West Germany, Japan and Canada, stayed at home to protest the Soviet invasion of Afghanistan in a boycott promulgated by Washington. Sixteen other nations registered their disapproval by displaying the Olympic flag rather than their national colors during the opening ceremonies, which were presided over by Communist Party Leader Leonid Brezhnev and Lord Killanin of Ireland, who retires after the games as president of the International Olympic Committee.

But if the hosts were chastened, they were not letting on. Indeed, most ordinary Soviets hardly connected the boycott with Afghanistan; it was easier to blame it on anti-Soviet hysteria in the capitalist camp. "I wonder if Carter watched the opening ceremony," said one elderly housewife. "If he did, he must have been sorry not to be able to see it all. The poor Americans." Angered that Britain had only one marcher in the opening parade, a Soviet television announcer told viewers: "There is the clumsy plot... against the traditions of the Olympic movement."

Because of the no-shows, the international competition quickly developed into an intramural struggle between two Communist sports leviathans. In the first six days of competition, the Soviet Union won 34 of the 69 gold medals and East Germany captured 11. Between them, the two countries also took well over half of the silver and bronze awards.

The city of Moscow was both more and less itself than usual. Some 2 million Soviet tourists, officials, businessmen and shoppers who ordinarily visit the capital every day in summer from other parts of the country have been barred until after the Olympics. A million adults were vacationing in the countryside or seashore, and more than a million schoolchildren were off at summer camp. Untold thousands of dissidents and undesirables were being kept out of sight in outlying areas.

Originally, 300,000 foreign tourists were expected. The Soviets have scaled down this estimate to 210,000, and diplomatic sources put the actual number closer to 150,000. Only 3,000 of the 18,500 Americans expected before the boycott are coming, and some of those only because they would not be able to get a full refund on their trips. The fall-off in tourism could cost the Soviets as much as $150 million in hard currency, according to one Western projection.

Foreigners found Moscow suffused with policemen and soldiers. American-made Friskem metal detectors were in use at many hotels, so that returning to a room was as bothersome as boarding an airplane. The Olympic Village, whose counterpart in Munich in 1972 was the target of the terrorist attack in which eleven died, was under particularly tight control. Said James Gilkes, a U.S.-educated sprinter from Guyana: "I'm in the right wing of Building 13, but I can't even go into the left wing. If I want to see someone who's in another building, I can't do that either. You can't even visit your friends."

The Soviets early on made plain that soapboxes would not be permitted at their party. When an Italian gay rights activist tried to stage a demonstration in Red Square, he was quickly overwhelmed by uniformed police and plainclothes KGB officers. The police also closed in on a group of journalists who were covering the stunt. U.P.I. Bureau Chief John Moody was kneed in the groin and detained for 25 minutes, two French photographers were roughed up and forced to expose their film and an NBC cameraman had his film confiscated.

A stranger episode occurred when some members of the Afghanistan wrestling team were reported to be eager to defect. After British Television Correspondent Martin Lewis aired a story about the possible defections, all 18 members of the team, edgy and anxious, appeared at a press conference to issue a collective denial. Lewis disputed the claim, even pointing out one athlete who allegedly approached him --a journalistic lapse that could have serious consequences for the unfortunate Afghan.

The Soviets were piqued by the way many of the 3,000 journalists on hand were focusing on the tight security measures and other "political" stories. At midweek Vladimir Popov, deputy chief of the Moscow Olympic Organizing Committee, warned that newsmen might be deported for negative reporting. Said he: "You may be sure that if the national dignity of the host country has been offended, we shall demand that resolute sanctions should be taken against these journalists."

At the same time, the Soviet press eased up on denunciations of the boycott--though visitors who agree that the competition has not been hurt were widely quoted. Palestine Liberation Organization Chief Yasser Arafat, who was treated as an honored guest despite his refusal eight years ago to condemn the Arab terrorists in Munich, observed in a television interview: "The crowded stands are testimony to the fact that no blackmail and no boycott have been able to disrupt the Moscow Olympics."

American sports fans will have a curious amnesia about the 1980 games. Not only were the U.S. athletes at home, but television coverage was patchy as well. There were snippets on the evening news and slightly longer reports on the morning talk shows, but, altogether, coverage was only a fraction of the 150 hours NBC had planned before it withdrew from its contract to televise the games as part of the U.S. protest.

Even some of those who went to Moscow found ways to register visible dissent that not even the Soviets could censor. Traditionally, each winner has his nation's flag hoisted and its national anthem rendered when he receives his medal. Luciano Giovannetti of Italy, who won the gold medal in trapshooting, was the first champion to have the Olympic flag and hymn used at his ceremony (Italy and a number of other Western European countries chose to participate in Moscow but to protest by using Olympic symbols instead of their own). Tears rose in his eyes afterward when a group of his countrymen draped a green, red and white Italian flag over his shoulders. The Soviet crowd jeered when no national flags were raised after a Swiss, a Frenchman and a Dane finished one-two-three in the 4,000-meter individual pursuit cycling. The winner, Robert Dill-Bundi, shook his head and wept when the white flag with five rings was raised.

The heavy business of the Olympics, track and field, did not get under way until late in the week. Most eagerly awaited was the showdown between England's exciting runners, Sebastian Coe and Steve Ovett, in the 800 meters. Another Briton, Allan Wells, 28, beat them to the gold with a victory in the 100-meter dash; Wells needed a closing rush to edge out Cuba's Silvio Leonard in the relatively slow time of 10.25. (The best U.S. time this year was 10.02 by James Sanford of the University of Southern California.) A Cuban woman, Maria Colon, set an Olympic record in winning the javelin. Jaak Uudmae, 25, of the Soviet Union, won the triple jump, foiling Teammate Victor Saneyev's bid to win four consecutive golds in the event. Saneyev, 34, who first won the triple jump in the 1968 Olympics in Mexico City, finished second.

Just as in recent Olympiads, women's gymnastics proved to be an electrifying spectacle. The leading lady was once again Nadia Comaneci, now 18, who four years ago won three gold medals and scored seven perfect 10s, including the first ever in Olympic competition.

She was a wisp in Montreal, only 5 ft. even and 86 lbs., one of those slim, prepubescent marvels who have revolutionized the sport. As she has matured, she has added three inches and 13 pounds; some coaches wondered if she had become too top-heavy to perform her limber routines. Indeed, Comaneci looked like a stranger in her new body. She finished a disappointing fourth in the all-around competition during the World Championships at Strasbourg in 1978, then missed much of that event last year due to a badly infected hand.

When Comaneci entered the Sports Palace for the start of the team competition, she towered over her Rumanian teammates like an icy queen. She was tied for first place after the compulsory exercises. In the optionals, she opened on the balance beam, dazzling the crowd with what seemed to be a flawless routine. Her score was slow in being posted because of a computer problem. After seven minutes she was awarded a disappointing 9.9, which drew a volley of whistles and catcalls. The Rumanian among the six judges was nearly apoplectic, as was Comaneci's coach, who lodged an unsuccessful protest.

That incident, as it turned out, was a harbinger of more disappointments. Going into the final rotation in the all-around competition, Comaneci was in sole possession of first place. She went to the uneven parallel bars, where she had scored back-to-back 10s in Montreal, and started her routine with glyptic precision and dancer's grace. Suddenly as she flew over the bar, she was unable to regain her grip and fell what seemed a dangerously long way to the mat. She resumed the exercise, receiving a 9.5 score, the maximum allowed after a fall. The Soviet women, who have dominated Olympic competition since 1956 but who finished second to Rumania in last year's World Championships, went on to win the team gold medal.

Since the scores in team competition count for half of a gymnast's total in the all-around finals, it appeared that Comaneci had no chance to repeat as gold medalist. Yet she reeled off a 10 on the parallel bars and began the last rotation as one of three women with a shot at top honors.

Maxi Gnauck, 15, an East German sprite with closely cropped hair and a tiny chassis (4 ft. 10 in., 71 lbs.), went first on the vault. Her robot-like consistency cracked under the pressure, and she had to settle for a 9.75. Next up was Yelena Davidova, 18, an elfin Soviet with a Dorothy Hamill haircut, on the parallel bars. Only 4 ft. 8 in., 75 lbs., she had scored a stunning 10 in the floor exercises the night before, mixing rubber-body tumbling and kiddie-porn dance routines (hip grinding to a snake charmer's song). On the bars, she was smooth rather than risque, managing a satisfying 9.95.

Comaneci was last, and she approached the beam needing a 9.9 to tie Davidova, a 9.95 to win outright. Until this Olympics, she had not scored below 9.95 Son the four-inch wide apparatus, and there seemed no reason why she could not lift her score again. But her knee bent ever so slightly on a difficult 360DEG rotation, and she lost her balance for a millisecond after a patented front flip with a half twist. Even so, she seemed tinged with gold.

Then bedlam. An argument broke out among the six judges. The Rumanian coach ranted. The crowd chanted Davidova's name and clapped in unison. A smaller Rumanian claque shouted "Nah-dee-yah! Nah-dee-yah!" Nadia stood motionless, arms akimbo, eyes far away. Twenty-eight minutes after her dismount, the scoreboard flashed the disheartening news: 9.85, only good enough for the silver.

In men's gymnastics--where, before the boycott, American heartthrobs like Kurt Thomas and Bart Connor were expected to do especially well--the show was stolen by Alexander Ditiatin, 22. The handsome Soviet leaped and vaulted to a total of eight medals, the most won by an individual since the modern Games began in 1896. The previous record was held by U.S. Swimmer Mark Spitz, who won seven medals in 1972, and by Ditiatin's teammate Nikolai Andrianov, who won seven gymnastics prizes at the 1976 Olympics. Andrianov, making something of a comeback at the relatively advanced age of 27, picked up a gold in the vault, a silver in the floor exercise and a bronze on the horizontal bar.

In addition, the nimble Ditiatin scored the first 10 in men's Olympic competition, a feat he accomplished on the rings, probably the most difficult gymnastic event. He had hardly left the floor when Alexander Tkachov of the U.S.S.R. turned in a 10 on the horizontal bar. Then Zoltan Magyar of Hungary, a gold medalist at Montreal, received a 10 on the pommel horse. Finally, a Bulgarian, Stoyan Deltchev, 21, scored the fourth 10 of the day, on the rings. Male gymnasts took the high marks as a sign that their sport was at last approaching the kind of perfection known in women's gymnastics.

Another glamour competition, men's swimming and diving, was ravaged by the U.S. boycott. Four years ago the U.S. swimmers won twelve of the 13 gold medals awarded, along with ten silver and five bronze; they added one gold and one silver in diving. There is so much depth in the American ranks that some swimming experts feel the summer's best meet is not the one in Moscow but the U.S. championships in Irvine, Calif., this week. Indeed, the Irvine event has become a shadow Olympics, an opportunity for the U.S. mermen to top the winning times in Moscow--and reclaim world attention from the hard-stroking Soviet swimmers, who had five golds entering Saturday's competition.

That will be a difficult task in the 1,500-meter freestyle, where Vladimir Salnikov of the Soviet Union last week became the first man to break 15 minutes, an achievement that swimmers rank with running the mile in less than four minutes. Urged on by a chanting, cheering crowd, Salnikov, 20, finished in 14:58.27, more than four seconds below the world record set by Brian Goodell of the U.S. during the 1976 games. "If the U.S. swimmers were here in the pool, I'm sure my time would have been the same," he said afterward, speaking through an interpreter even though he has a diploma as an English translator. "So far, no one else has broken 15 minutes at this distance. If they can do it, I invite them to prove it. For now, Salnikov is the one to do it."

The next day Salnikov picked up another gold in the 4x200-meter freestyle relay, which the Soviets won in 7:23.50, almost three seconds off the world record. A day after that he added a third, winning the 400-meter freestyle in the Olympic record time of 3:51.31, more than half a second faster than Goodell's 1976 mark; his time was also a fraction faster than the top U.S. time this year, Mike Bruner's 3:52.24.

Other Soviet winners were Sergei Fesenko, 21, in the 200-meter butterfly and Sergei Kopliakov, 21, in the 200-meter freestyle. Neither matched the best U.S. times this year. Soviet Alexander Portnov, 18, captured the gold medal in springboard diving, but only after protests from his two nearest competitors were disallowed. They were upset that Portnov had been permitted to repeat a dive after claiming to have been distracted by the crowd.

Protests and, save for Salnikov's, mediocre times notwithstanding, the Soviet men had left their imprint on international swimming. Indeed, it seemed incredible that they had never won an Olympic gold medal in the sport until Fesenko broke the ice last Sunday. An ambitious five-year training program has pushed them into swimming's first rank, and now they are plainly spoiling for a showdown with the U.S. Said Fesenko: "I wanted to retire after the Olympics, but now I suppose I will have to swim another two years, to meet Bruner and the other Americans."

U.S. swim fans could take some consolation in the victories by two Europeans with American collegiate connections. Duncan Goodhew, 23, a bald Briton who swam at North Carolina State, won the 100-meter breaststroke. Sweden's Par Arvidsson, 20, a student at the University of California at Berkeley, finished first in the 100-meter butterfly. Another Swede, Bengt Baron, 18, struck gold in the 100-meter backstroke. Australia edged out the Soviet Union in the 4x100-meter medley relay.

Before the boycott, women's swimming promised to be little more than a dual meet between the U.S. and East Germany. The Americans suffered an ignominious washout in Montreal, where their rivals won eleven of the 13 golds. But the U.S. women swamped the East Germans in 1978 at the world championships. With Tracy Caulkins, Kim Linehan, Cynthia Woodhead, Mary Meagher and Linda Jezek leading the way, The Star-Spangled Banner figured to get quite a few encores in Moscow. Instead, seven of the first eight gold medalists were honored with Auferstanden aus Ruinen (Arisen from the Ruins).

The East German victory parade was led by Barbara Krause, 21, an official of the state police, who set a world record of 54.79 in the 100-meter freestyle. She won a second gold in the 200-meter freestyle with an Olympic record time of 1:58.33, one-tenth of a second slower than Woodhead's world mark but faster than the American's best time this year. In the 100-meter backstroke, Rica Reinisch, 15, took top honors in 1:00.86, another world record and more than two seconds faster than Jezek's top performance in 1980.

Olympic records were set in the 200-meter butterfly by Ines Geissler, 17, and in the 400-meter freestyle by Ines Diers, 16, but both their gold-medal times were slower than U.S. marks. East German women took another gold in the 4x100-meter medley relay, breaking their own world record in the process. A member of the relay team, Caren Metschuck, 16, led an East German sweep in the 100-meter butterfly, but her time was more than a second behind Meagher's 1980 world standard. Asked if she thought she could beat Meagher, Metschuck turned to an East German official for guidance and then replied: "She is not here."

Preventing an East German sweep of the first week's bullion was the victory by Soviet Lina Kachusite in the 200-meter breaststroke. Behind by two seconds after 150 meters, she sprinted past a teammate to win by .07. Her time of 2:29.54 was slower than her own world record but comfortably ahead of Caulkins' 1980 best of 2:33.06.

The boxing preliminaries lacked the razzle-dazzle supplied by Sugar Ray Leonard and four other U.S. gold medalists in 1976. But Teofilio Stevenson, 29, was once again on hand to play wrecking ball to the heavyweight division. Although rumored to be out of shape, the regal Cuban knocked out his first opponent, Nigerian Solomon Ataga, with one lethal right-hand punch and then considerately helped him to his corner.

Next week, while the U.S.S.R. and East Germany continue their cakewalk to the victory stand, some 550 U.S. athletes, coaches and sports officials will be in Washington to receive commemorative congressional gold medals. Afterward they are scheduled to meet with President and Mrs. Carter at the White House. Says F. Don Miller, executive director of the U.S. Olympic Committee: "It's our way of honoring the athletes who qualified as Olympians . . . We want them to know how much the nation thinks of them."

As for U.S. sports fans, they will be entering the second week of an imaginary Olympiad, hunching over the agate type in their sports sections and asking some tantalizing questions. What if Renaldo Nehemiah were running the 110-meter hurdles? What if Mac Wilkins were throwing the discus? What if Larry Myricks were competing in the long jump, and the U.S. basketball team were challenging the Soviets on their home court? Like home-team boosters everywhere, they will know the answers with a visceral certainty. Gold. Gold. Gold. So, too, will many Soviets, whatever face they put upon their diminished Olympiad.

With reporting by Bruce Nelan, B.J. Phillips

This file is automatically generated by a robot program, so viewer discretion is required.