The High And the Sprightly

By Jill Smolowe

| When the great scorecard for 1988 Soviet achievements is totted up, Mikhail Gorbachev's perestroika campaign may receive a modest 8.0 (a bit wobbly on the takeoff) and the return of the Soyuz spacecraft will be lucky to secure a 7.5 (very shaky on the landing). But the Soviet gymnasts, men and women alike, will score a 10 because their performance in Seoul was just that: perfect.

With matchless artistry and unfaltering poise, the Soviets stormed Seoul's gymnastics hall and marched away with most of the glittering loot. Gold honors went to both the women's and men's teams, the latter setting a standard so far above its competitors that in a sport where thousandths of a point can make a difference, the runner-up East Germans finished almost a full 5 points behind. In the all-around battle, the Soviet men fought among themselves for the three medals, the first such sweep since Japan's hat trick in 1972. By the time of the individual apparatus competition, it was a foregone conclusion that the Soviets, who were allowed to enter only two gymnasts in each event, would dominate the competition.

The Soviet women, unlike the men, faced stiff competition from outside their own squad. The flamboyant Rumanians, determined to hang on to the team title that they had unexpectedly wrested from the Soviets at the 1987 world championships, battled valiantly. But Aurelia Dobre, who had been counted on to shine, was still recuperating from recent knee surgery and could serve up only 9.9s where 10s were needed. Thus the Soviets triumphed by a solid 1.35 points. In the battle for bronze, the U.S. lost out to the East Germans by just 0.3 of a point, felled by a controversial technical ruling that penalized the Americans a fatal half point. Come the all-around, it was a duel to the last 10 between Rumania's perky Daniela Silivas and the Soviets' no-nonsense Elena Shushunova. By a margin of just 0.025 of a point, Shushunova squeaked by to nail the gold, with teammate Svetlana Boginskaya capturing the bronze.

In the men's field, the Soviets dazzled and wowed with their daring assortment of triple flips on the vault, the rings, the high bar and the floor. And they also drew appreciative applause for their consistently solid performances, technical superiority and bold originality, outscoring every team on every apparatus. Even the weakest Soviets introduced elements never before seen in Olympic competition. If the all-around did not restrict each team to just three entrants, all six Soviets would have made it to the competition. "They are the absolute masters," conceded Mike Jacki, executive director of the U.S. Gymnastics Federation. "It's like the all-time, all-star team."

Heading the charge were three Soviet veterans, Vladimir Artemov, 23, Valeri Liukin, 21, and Dmitri Bilozerchev, 21. Coming into the Olympics, the favorite for the all-around title was Bilozerchev, the handsome, brooding Heathcliff of gymnastics who just three years ago almost lost a leg in a car accident. On the night of the all-around fight, Bilozerchev met expectations, outscoring both his teammates as he took 10s in three of the six events. But 50% of the all-around score carries over from the team competition, and there, Bilozerchev had faltered badly in one event, slamming into the high bar as he spun out of control during an unrivaled series of one-armed giant swings around the bar. The mishap cost him a crucial half point, which ultimately enabled the consistent Artemov, a perennial runner-up, to finally land on the top podium, and the aggressive Liukin to take the silver.

When the individual events got under way two days later, Bilozerchev earned two golds. But in both instances, he had to share the medal, on the rings with East Germany's Holger Behrendt and on the pommel horse with Zsolt Borkai of Hungary and Bulgaria's Lubomir Geraskov, the first such three-way tie for gymnastics gold since 1948. Artemov took two golds and a silver; Liukin one of each. When all the 10s from the various competitions were totaled, the Soviets had claimed 15 of the 25 awarded.

While the Soviet superiority was undisputed, there was ample grousing about the scoring among the more mediocre men's teams. The U.S., which finished eleventh of twelve, complained that its bad luck in drawing an early slot in the team competition doomed Americans to low scores. It was true that, as often happens, the scores accelerated wildly during the course of the competition, probably shorting some Americans of precious tenths of points. But even a tenth of a point here or there could not have brought the Americans into medal contention. They finished 8.75 points behind the third-finishing Japanese, and almost twice that behind the Soviets. There was a ray of hope for the future, however: Charles Lakes, 24, who scored an impressive 9.95 on the high bar during the all-around, drawing gasps with several high-flying release moves.

The women's competition offered greater suspense, though the Soviets dominated there too. The exceptional depth of the Soviet team became apparent when one of its best performers, Olga Strazheva, twisted a knee during her team's rotation on the balance beam, forcing her out of the competition. Still, the Soviets prevailed over the Rumanians through the remainder of the team competition, and like the men they set an Olympic team scoring record.

The all-around proved a cliff-hanger right up through the final few seconds of the competition. For the Soviets, there was Shushunova, 19, the team's mainstay, who wooed quietly with her elegant lines and dramatic presentation. Rumania was represented by Silivas, 18, a charismatic performer with an instinct for selling her quick, precise routines to the audience. Coming into the final rotation, the vault, Silivas held a slight edge. Although vault is her weakest event, she held tough to the last, scoring 9.95. Nothing less than a perfect 10 would deprive her of the gold. But Shushunova had already scored two 10s in the event in the team rounds. She knew what was needed -- and with little fanfare, she delivered. Even before the scoreboard flashed the 10, the intent Shushunova permitted the first hint of a smile to cross her face during competition.

Two days later, Silivas avenged her disappointment, harvesting three golds and a bronze in the apparatus finals. Shushunova took a silver and bronze; Boginskaya a gold and silver. Phoebe Mills claimed the only gymnastics medal for the U.S., sharing the bronze for the balance beam with Rumania's Gabriela Potorac. In a final count of coveted 10s, both Silivas and Shushunova tied the record seven scored by Rumania's Nadia Comaneci in 1976.

Politics and technicalities overruled performances in the team bronze-medal confrontation between the American and East German women. The U.S. team was not expected to be a contender. But the Americans came on strong during the compulsory round, finishing less than half a point behind the East Germans. What happened next will nag at Americans in Games to come, much the way that sports fans still pick at the scab that remains from a 1972 wound, when the U.S. basketball team lost the gold to the Soviets in a disputed final few seconds of play.

During the U.S. rotation on the uneven parallel bars, alternate Rhonda Faehn stood by to remove the springboard after Kelly Garrison-Steves' mount. Concerned that any movement might distract her teammate's concentration, Faehn squatted and watched the routine through to its completion. Minutes later, East German Ellen Berger, a rules official, dug into the book and emerged with an often overlooked regulation that specifically prohibits coaches -- and apparently other noncompetitors -- from standing on the raised podium during a performance. "A rule is a rule," Berger insisted and pressed for a 0.5 penalty. A rules committee dominated by East bloc officials came down in favor of the deduction. Reflecting a widespread view even among non-Americans, U.S. gymnastics official Jacki hooted, "It's a Mickey Mouse rule."

But it proved to be the Mickey Mouse that roared. As a direct consequence of the deduction, the U.S. team finished fourth instead of third, trailing the East Germans by a heart-sickening 0.3 of a point. "It's a dirty maneuver," fumed U.S. coach Bela Karolyi, who also charged that the East Germans had received unfairly high scores.

While the adults railed, the gymnasts rose to the occasion with admirable equanimity. "I feel good about what we did," said Garrison-Steves, "because I know in my heart we won the bronze medal."

Lost in the hubbub was the fact that the East Germans had also entered the final round of the team competition at a disadvantage. One of their team members, Martina Jentsch, had been forced by injury to withdraw, leaving the East Germans with just five gymnasts and without the opportunity to drop the lowest of six scores. Still, for the East Germans, the bronze medal will always be tarnished. And, ironically, while the U.S. team would have been quickly forgotten had it won the bronze, the furor ensures that the 1988 U.S. gymnastics team, led by Brandy Johnson and Mills, will enter the annals of footnote memories.

In the end, however, history will best recall the superlative show put on by the awesome Soviets. Their stranglehold on the medals, earned with heart and dignity, left no doubt which team was supreme in Seoul. But the Soviets are unlikely to bask in glory for long. "When we go back, we will look at what we have achieved and analyze the strong points," says men's head coach Leonid Arkaev. In other words, planning for next time starts next week.

With reporting by Brian Cazeneuve/Seoul