Atlanta, 1996 was my first Olympics. You might recall that there were a few problems with that Olympics. The complex and multi-layered bus schedule, apparently, was designed by forest animals. Everybody had a bus story before the end*. A terrorist set off a bomb. There were the constant and creepy pronouncements from organizer Billy Payne and his bunch about how the Olympics “were going according to plan.” The Southern humidity wore everyone down. The horrendous Izzy Mascot was everywhere you turned. And while every Olympics in recent years have been swarmed over by corporate interests, I think that giving away Coca Cola coozies and Delta wings on the medal stand was probably a bit much.
*My bus story involved a two and a half hour wait one day to escape from the media village. The wait would not have been nearly that long — we could have WALKED downtown faster than that — but there were several volunteers there with walkie talkies and every three minutes one of them would chirp that the bus was “just around the corner.” I don’t think they were lying — in my memory when a bus finally showed up, it was followed by two or three other busses, all of which had been circling the stop aimlessly for hours, not unlike Chevy Chase at Big Ben.
Then there was this: Atlanta the city, while impressive in its own ways, isn’t exactly bursting with worldly charm. It’s a concrete city with a lot of new buildings and an infinite number of streets named “Peachtree.” I went to high school and college in Charlotte, so for me Atlanta was the shining city on the hill, the closest one with a Major League Baseball team, a city that for me really did represent that vague thing everyone called the New South. Even so, if a European or Asian friend asked me to name ten places to see in America, I suspect Atlanta would not be on the list. You can decide how high the number in that example would have to go to reach Atlanta.
It was because of this, I think, that the ‘96 Olympics became the most negatively and unfairly covered sporting event in memory. Yes, sure, there were problems, but at some point the complaining became deafening and maddening — OK, we GET it, you had a bus problem, you had trouble getting your Olympic credentials, this isn’t exactly a world crisis. There was one moment in particular, the crescendo of madness, when a German reporter approached a Coca Cola machine. One of the gifts they gave us reporters when we arrived was a sort of Coca Cola credit card — you could stick it into any machine in the whole city and get a free Coke. It was, at that moment in my life, the single greatest thing I ever owned. I used to wear it around my neck. It was like a lifetime pass to Disney World.
Anyway, this reporter walked up to the machine, inserted his free Coke card, hit the button, got his free Coke. He then picked it up, looked at the bottle, and screamed angrily: “WARM!” I think about that scene quite often, you know, whenever I want to feel good about this crazy business I ended up in.
The biggest problem with all the complaining is that a lot of people were so angry and bitter they missed a potentially significant story: The Atlanta Olympics were GREAT. I feel quite sure I will never again cover an Olympics that had so many amazing moments. I was there when Pocket Hercules won his third consecutive gold medal in an weightlifting duel with Greece’s Valerios Leonidis. There were Greeks and Turks standing on stomping on both sides of the arena, all of them going mad, and when Pocket pushed 413 1/4 pounds over his head, a world record, and the arena sounded like a Who Concert, well, I remember thinking this had to be the greatest thing I had ever seen in my life.
Then, I was there when the injured Kerri Strug landed on one leg to clinch a gold medal for the U.S. women’s gymnastics team. The story wasn’t as tidy as they apparently made it seem on NBC — as I recall it, the U.S. had mathematically clinched the gold even before she pulled off the landing. But that was just math. Strug’s landing was remarkable and inspiring, and it certainly did secure the gold, and the Georgia Dome was probably louder than it has ever been for a Falcons game.
Then, I just happened to walk in on a freestyle wrestling match between an American, Kurt Angle, and Iranian Abbas Jadidi. And when I say I just walked in on it, I mean it, I was not planning on it, I was checking out various events, and I walked in on this match, and I want to say I caught it close to the end because I do not recall much of the action. What I remember is both of them standing there, a referee between them, it was obviously coming down to some sort of judge’s decision. And in a flurry, I remember Jadidi being furious and trying to raise his own arm while the referee tried to keep it down. And at that same moment, I remember Kurt Angle just bursting out in tears — it was later that I would hear him talk about his murdered coach, his overwhelming injuries, the whole story. It was the tears, though, that stand out. It was amazing. The Olympics were the sort of magical place where you could just walk into a room, watch an American win a gold medal against an Iranian in a disputed decision, and then just watch a tough Pittsburgh guy break down in joy and exhaustion
Then, I was there when Michael Johnson ran 200-meters in 19.32 seconds, and I have never seen anything quite like that either. After the race, Johnson would talk about how he felt like a kid in a soap box derby car rushing down a big hill, going too fast, and that’s how it felt watching him, like he was going too fast, like he had just burst off the page. I’ve written here before how few things impress me more than when a singer with a single acoustic guitar can mesmerize an audience. Well, here was a man and all he did was run 200 yards, and I would bet that not one of the tens of thousands of people there in the crowd will forget it.
There was more, too, lots more, I was there when Ali lit the torch, there when Carl Lewis won the long jump for the fourth time, there when a stadium full of people did the Macarena at the first Beach Volleyball medal match, there when Ireland’s Michelle Smith won gold while everyone just assumed she was doping (without a failed test, of course, the story of our time) , there even when Andre Agassi won a tennis gold medal.
And on the last day, I saw a boxing match between America’s David Reid and Cuba’s Alfredo Duvergel. The United States had not won a single gold medal, and Reid got battered and sliced up for two rounds by Duvergel. Olympic boxing is a pure point system — point per punch — and Duvergel had an insurmountable lead, 15-5, he only had to stay away in the third round. But there is a pride dominant boxers feel, they cannot stay away from the fight, and Duvergel pressed for the kill, Reid landed a crushing right hand and knocked Duvergel out, probably the most stunning comeback in Olympic boxing history. I recall a reporter shouting at me that this was the moment of the Olympics, but I had seen too many moments. For me, Atlanta was so good that I simply had been overwhelmed.
Funny then, that the most powerful memory of Atlanta for me is not any of these. No, the most powerful memory of Atlanta happened one night when I went to dinner with the ubiquitous Chuck Culpepper, who basically appears in all of my Olympic stories. Chuck, being Chuck, had found some sort of amazing French restaurant in Atlanta. I have no idea how he found it, and I don’t know if it still exists.
In any case, we were in this French restaurant, and the food was absolutely delicious. I don’t know if they shipped in some chef from Paris for the Olympics or if French food just tastes better when a restaurant is packed with people from all over the world, but it was incredible. People were talking a half dozen languages all around us. I’m sure the restaurant was on one of the streets called Peachtree, but in that moment it wasn’t Atlanta. It wasn’t Paris either. It was somewhere else, somewhere international, like Heathrow only everyone in there seemed happy, like the United National only everyone in there seemed in agreement, like a World Cup pub only everyone in there seemed like your friend.
Then, suddenly, everyone in the place put down their forks, stood up, and started applauding. I mean everyone. I looked at the door, and there was some guy I did not recognize. He was nodding and holding up his hand in gratitude. We turned to the person at the table next to us and asked, “Who is that?” We were told, in the voice of a parent to a curious child, “That is Jean Galfione.” Sadly, this did not help much. The person at the table explained: “He won the gold medal in the pole vault.” Ah. So we stood for Jean Galfione, applauded like everyone else, the clapping was sharp and warm and with feeling. It lasted a long time. It was amazing.
And this, I should say, is where my memory differs for Chuck’s. I recall that later in the meal the forks went down again. People all stood. Everyone applauded and cheered with the same enthusiasm and joy, applause that was not only for the star, but for all of us, applause that said, “Isn’t this great? Look at where we are. We are at the Olympics! And no, it isn’t perfect, it is political, it is corporate, it is touched with hypocrisy. But forget all that. We are still here, one world, coming together to celebrate how far athletes can jump, how fast they can swim, how much they can lift, how delicious French food can be in Atlanta, how good a free Coca Cola tastes …”
I looked to the door, expecting to see another French athlete I did not know. This time, though, I recognized the person immediately. It was Stevie Wonder. And, I don’t know, there was just something spiritual about that moment. I’m not the world’s biggest Stevie Wonder fan or anything, but I like him. Still, there was something about seeing him there, hearing all that clapping, eating all that great food, talking about the amazing things we had seen, well, when I think about the Olympics, I just think about that little moment.
I should say that Chuck remembers the story a little bit differently which just goes to show you that as you get older, age can play tricks with his memory. He insists that we did not see Stevie Wonder that same night … he says that I saw Stevie Wonder when I went back to the restaurant a couple of days later with another Olympic partner, the brilliant Adrian Wojnarowski. Well, maybe so. I do tend to mix things together now and then. It doesn’t really matter. It’s the feeling that counts. I remember that feeling precisely.
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30 Comments, Comment or Ping
McKingford
You can decide how high the number in that example would have to go to reach Atlanta.
It would be a number with a very high exponent…
Jul 27th, 2008
McKingford
My favourite memory from Atlanta was watching Donovan Bailey win the hundred metres, but that may have a lot to do with me being a Canadian. It wiped away, if only partially, the shame of Ben Johnson.
But more than that, it was the night one of my best buddies got married. The race was at a critical junction in the wedding night, and all of a sudden, the women in the hall were wondering, with considerable annoyance, where all the men had gone (including the groom). It was only supposed to be for a few seconds - after all, it’s a 10 second race, right? But there was so much drama in the leadup to the race, with one of the favourites, Lindford Christie false starting and being DQ’ed that it took forever. And after that, nobody (well, the guys anyway) wanted to talk about what was going on in the wedding, they were reliving the race.
Jul 27th, 2008
Langer
My Atlanta memory - if they had served beer in the park where the bomb went off, I would have been standing very close to it when it did. My friend and I walked through the park, saw the band, walked past the tower where the bookbag ultimately laid, and realized they weren’t serving beer inside that part of the park. We walked straight on through to the other side, and decided to use a men’s room first. While standing at the urinals, boom.
Two, maybe three minutes.
Lot of confusion after that. Cops telling us to not head toward the park (we were naturally curious and a little bit drunk). Lots of people running away. Finally a strange Metro ride back home.
Won’t ever forget that night.
Jul 27th, 2008
Dan
I was living Albuquerque in 1996 and we had the, looking back, pretty silly idea to go to Atlanta for the Olympics. We went so far as to call for tickets. When we got through to whoever it was, we were told that as Mexicans we had to call the international number to get tickets. Old Mexico, New Mexico it made no difference. Anything Mexico was international. That underscored that we didn’t really want to go to Atlanta.
Fast forward 12 years and we now live in the panhandle of Florida and Atlanta is our city on the hill.
Jul 27th, 2008
Zach
I stayed in the athlete’s village in the summer of 2001 (after the Olympics, they were given to Georgia Tech for use as dorms), and I remember the architecture as being subtly designed to move you along and prevent the residents from stopping and gathering together (and thereby becoming terrorist targets, presumably).
Jul 27th, 2008
Mike
One of the more intriguing aspects of Michael Johnson, to me at least, is that he’s never really been accused of doping. Sort of amusing, because he was so much better than everyone else, ever, at those races. I realize everyone forgets about the olympics about 30 seconds after they end… but he destroyed the world record by so much, it would be like someone showing up and throwing a 107 mph fastball.
Jul 27th, 2008
Mike
Also, I’m calling BS on your story Joe. As a former pole vaulter, I can assure you… no one watches the pole vault
Trust me, I’ve tried. I believe I saw three jumps (total) on TV during Sydney.
Jul 27th, 2008
Mark P
It’s weird to think of Kurt Angle, ten years into his pro wrestling career, as an Olympian, even though his whole wrestling gimmick is that he’s an arrogant braggard who’s constantly mentioning his gold medals.
I heartily second McKingford’s memory of Donovan Bailey. That was an unbelievable race. Though the joy wasn’t immediate….because of Johnson, everyone waited until the drug test came back before we really put him up on our shoulders.
Jul 27th, 2008
JBish
Mike - I was just thinking about Michael Johnson the other day. That race was truly unbelievable. I suppose we’ll never know whether he took anything or not… but I find it hard to believe he wasn’t. Not really because of that 19.32 though.. just because it was easier to dope then, and I just assume everybody was. The race was jaw-dropping either way, and i don’t think that record is going down for a long time.
(Of course, they say that about every record)
Jul 27th, 2008
Threehounds
My memory of the Atlanta Olympics takes place in Washington, D.C. They had the soccer matches all over the US and it just happened that I got tickets to the US/Portugal match. I have been to a lot of great sporting events over the years and I have never felt anything as electric as when the US scored a goat to tie it 1-1, the hair on the back of my neck stood up.
Sadly the US went on to lose 2-1.
Jul 27th, 2008
GWO
As a nonUSian, I couldn’t have cared less about Strug, which even from a distance had that air of “faked human interest story”. I hate those, because great sport doesn’t need those sort of things. But I remember watching Johnson run 19.32 with my dad, and us both just looking at each other saying “Did that really just happen?”. I don’t know if he works much in the US, but MJ is a regular commentator on athletics for the BBC, and he’s damn good at it.
And Ali lighting the flame — does my memory decieve me or was that kept back from the press? — that was one of the most emotional sporting moments I’ve ever watched — probably second behind watching Nelson Mandela dance on the pitch with Francois Pienaar after the Springboks won the 1995 Rugby World Cup.
Jul 27th, 2008
Thomas
Michael Johnson’s 200 was the greatest track performance of all time.
Jul 27th, 2008
DosCarlos
Michael Johnson’s 200 meter win is one of the few sporting events that I can pinpoint where I was when I saw it. My extended family, about 40 of us, went on a trip to Colorado to celebrate my grandparents’ 50th anniversary. At race time, we were at a restaurant called “Eric’s Pizza” in Breckinridge. Being a sports nerd and a high school track athlete who had most of the world records memorized at the time, I was blown away by Johnson’s performance. While most track records had been broken at least once while I was old enough to notice, the 200 meter dash mark hadn’t changed since the 70’s. Johnson cemented his standing as one of my favorite athletes with that incredible Olympiad.
Jul 27th, 2008
Devin McCullen
I really liked the Kerri Strug story. And to be honest, if they didn’t need her to do it, that makes me respect her even more. Jump and land on a fractured ankle just for the sake of competing? Think about it. Also, that gave us the Kerri and Kippy Strug bit on SNL, which had me on the floor.
My one complaint is that if gymnasts want to be treated as athletes, it’s only fair that they take the criticism when they don’t come through, like any other athlete. And nobody ever held Dominique Moceanu accountable for flopping on her vaults and putting Kerri in that position.
Jul 27th, 2008
Naim Süleymano?lu
STOP PERPETUATING THE MYTH OF POCKET HERCULES! HE IS A FIGMENT OF THE HAZY ATLANTA AIR AND OF A POWERFUL IMAGINATION WHO SMOKES UNFILTERED WINSTONS!!!!!
Jul 27th, 2008
adam
Devin, it’s funny that you mention Moceanu, because what I most remember about that Atlanta Olympics is that I was completely, irrationally in love with her for like three months afterwards (I was like 10 at the time).
Jul 27th, 2008
GWO
Really? You think sports, as a whole would be improved, if people had been a little more critical of a 14-year-old girl who probably already felt she’d let her friends and teammates (not to mention her country) at the biggest moment of her life?
You should be ashamed.
Jul 28th, 2008
Dr.Funkenstein
I remember Bruce Willis and Demi Moore crashing the celebration to hang with the gymnasts, then they all did the Macarena together..ah, the sweet mid-90s!
Jul 28th, 2008
buckweaver
As someone who grew up near Atlanta and has read way too many unflattering portrayals of those Games, I want to thank you for this post, Joe. I have such positive memories of the ‘96 Olympics — some of the names have been mentioned, along with others, like the wonderful Lilia Podkopayeva. … Great to see that others had as good a time as I had.
Jul 28th, 2008
CTWARRIOR
As a guy who could care less about gymnastics (its not a sport if the winner is determined by a judge and style points count for anything) the thing that always bothered me about Kerri Strug is that she stole thunder from the very deserving Shannon Miller, who, as I recall, did most of the heavy lifting to get the U.S. to the team gold medal. I always figured that the Strug moment cost Miller a bunch of endorsement opportunites, etc.
Jul 28th, 2008
Greg
In Beijing we were standing outside a shop with crates of little animals on the sidewalk: chickens, ducks, rabbits, snakes, and some other things. Naturally we assumed it was a pet store. Then we looked up at the sign, which was all in Chinese except for the word, “restaurant.”
I’m gonna be really disappointed, Joe, if you don’t try the fried crickets, chicken feet, and duck heads. You gotta get the whole gustatory experience to know China.
One really fun thing is to walk through a street food market and count the number of dead animals you can’t identify. Our guide bragged that the Chinese will eat anything with 4 legs except a table, and anything that flies except a plane.
Jul 28th, 2008
greg
Free coke card, that is the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard! That’s like Kramer with the free coffe.
Jul 28th, 2008
ian
big shout out to the fellow canadians who are reminiscing about donovan bailey winning the gold medal in the 100m in atlanta. just as memorable, and perhaps more unlikely, was the canadians winning the 4×100m relay the following saturday (robert esmie, glenroy gilbert, bruny surin, donovan bailey). i’ll never forget don wittman calling it for cbc as donovan bailey crossed the finish line first for the second time in a week: “if you’re canadian, you have to love saturday nights in georgia!” it sends chills up my spine to this day.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JSyzEkg7vdk&NR=1
Jul 28th, 2008
Jackie Ballgame
I was a campus bus driver at the University of Iowa at the time of the Olympics, and I have an explanation for the transportation chaos of Atlanta ‘96: It was someone’s brilliant idea to recruit college bus drivers from Universities all over the country to drive the buses down there. Here’s why it was brilliant on paper - college bus drivers have commercial licenses and (alleged) experience, but are not in unions and therefore don’t have to be paid much or guaranteed anything. So there was a contingent of us that went down to Atlanta to drive buses. I was not among them; I had to stay at the University to take Latin Dance (PE credit) in order to graduate, but that’s another story.
Anyway, I called my driver friend Bill one night to ask him how it was all going, and he relayed the following:
(Paraphrasing) “So I was driving a group of people today, athletes among them, to (some destination) and I got lost because I’d never driven this route before and the instructions were inaccurate. So I called the dispatcher for a reroute, and after an extremely unproductive conversation she said ‘ask someone. Good luck.’ So there I am with a busload of people, blazing a trail through Atlanta, stopping every so often to ask cops for help.”
Awesome.
Jul 28th, 2008
Creston
You have to understand that Germans, even more so than the Dutch, absolutely LOVE to complain.
Let me paint a picture about the average German worker :
- He works a 34 hour work week. (no, that’s not a typo. 34 hour work week. Here we still are with our 40 hours a week nonsense…)
- He gets paid ~40,000 Euro for a job that over here would make 30,000 dollars.
- He gets around 5 weeks of paid vacation, though usually more. That depends a bit on the job itself. Some get 7 to 8 weeks.
- Taxes in Germany are higher than they are in the US, but they’re not crazy insane like they are in Holland, for example.
Yet if you talk to a German “arbeiter”, within five minutes you will be convinced that the poor guy just got off the slaveboat and is the most horribly mistreated living organism in the entire world.
So for the guy to scream “WARM!” at his free Coke, yeah, that’s pretty much the Germans I know. The ones that will come to YOUR country, and then be absolutely incensed that you do not speak German fluently.
Jul 28th, 2008
Steve from Cleve
A. How do I get a free Coke card, because that sounds deliciously awesome.
B. I’m pretty sure I had a crush on Moceanu. I would have been….about 9 when the Olympics were going down in 1996.
C. It’s hysterical to think of Kurt Angle as a real wrestler now that he’s been in the WWE for so long.
Jul 28th, 2008
Geoffrey
Audley Harrison had a great comeback in the boxing at the Sydney Olympics for us. He had reached the final by pretty much anhilating everyone but in the final he was being outboxed and going into the third round was losing badly on points. He knew he had to get a knockout to win, there was no way he was going to get the points back and he just went full out for it. He got the knockout and said in his interview afterwards how great it was given the circumstances and we as a nation loved him ofr it.
Of course then he turned professional and ended up being a bit of a joke but still for that summer we loved him.
Jul 30th, 2008
John
The single greatest live sporting event I have ever been too was to soccer semi-final between Nigeria and Brazil in Athens at the ’96 games. 76,000 Samba dancing, drum banging fans at Sanford Stadium. The Nigerians were losing 3-1 and scored 2 goals to tie it up in the last 12 minutes of play. At that point EVERYONE in the stadium that wasn’t wearing gold and green decided to root for the huge underdog Nigerians. In sudden death Roberto Carlos fired a ball off the post for Brazil and the Nigerians immediately came down the field and scored. I will never forget that sound and how my friends and I went nuts. The Nigerians then spent the next 20 minutes dancing around the field thanking all of the fans. BY far the most electric and energized stadium I have ever been to and I bet half the people there couldn’t have shown you where Nigeria was on a map, but have never cheered harder for any team at any time in their lives.
Aug 2nd, 2008
Stevo
I too had a huge crush on Moceanu. I’d by lying if I said I still don’t, just because I haven’t seen her since those Olympics, so to me, she’s still a hot 13 year-old. Except now I’m 24. And in no way is this creepy.
Aug 4th, 2008
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