Where's the excitement?

Lack of emotion from U.S. track medalists is taking fun out of Games

Lauryn Williams won the silver in the 100 meters, but made sure to keep her emotions in check. AP

Let's start with a question: If a delightful, young U.S. athlete wins an Olympic medal and deliberately tempers her reaction because she's afraid she might be criticized for showing too much emotion, is this is a good thing? In the name of forgetting the notorious 4X100-meter relay from Sydney, has the United States Olympic Committee gone too far?

OK. That's two questions. But it's one topic.

Last Saturday night, 20-year-old U.S. sprinter Lauryn Williams won a silver medal in the 100 meters. The moment was spun negatively by some in the media, as it was the first time since 1976 that the U.S. had not won the gold medal in the 100 in a non-boycotted Games. However, for Williams, it was the thrill of her young life, and as far as I know, she didn't bring David Wallechinsky's Olympic history book to the finish line to determine the historical significance of the event and establish the appropriate level of satisfaction.

Williams performed brilliantly throughout the rounds of the 100. Barely two months ago she was winning her first NCAA title as a junior at the University of Miami, and here in Athens she ran with a professional's poise. (Actually, she is a professional, having forsaken her last year of eligibility at Miami just after the U.S. Trials in July; however, she came to Greece having run all of two professional races in her life).

In the final, she executed a near-perfect start and led the race for 70 meters before Yulia Nesterenko of Belarus closed, flying from two lanes away to beat Williams at the tape. Williams and her coach, Amy Deem, were both disappointed that Lauryn leaned a little early, but I've watched the race dozens of times and I'm convinced that her little staggering didn't affect her medal. She wasn't going to hold off Nesterenko (the sprint surprise of the Games, and I'll leave it at that) and Veronica Campbell of Jamaica didn't get her. So no harm, no foul.

It was Williams' reaction to the performance that surprised me. She looked up at the replay and results screens, saw the standings and then turned around and walked toward the exit tunnel. Not only wasn't she celebrating, but she was barely smiling. Shortly after the race, she was out of sight.

The next afternoon I sat down with Williams we talked about her race, her life and her reaction to victory. Her explanation was discouraging, although I can't say I didn't see it coming: "I was excited,'' Williams told me. "But we got lectured all these times about etiquette if you win a medal. At first I was looking for my flag to wave, but then I thought 'what if you're not supposed to carry your flag when you finish second, instead of first'? Then I wasn't sure if I could run around the track. You don't want to get captured on TV from a bad perspective. I was definitely excited, but I was a little lost, too.''

OK. Let's say you're one of the people who watched the Sydney four-by-one guys do their protracted strut four years ago and thought it was the end of civilization. (For the record, I'm not one of those people. I thought they overdid it a little and nobody should turn the flag into a turban or toga. But they were having fun and isn't that what sports is about?) Is robbing Lauryn Williams of her excitement a fair price to pay?

Williams hasn't been the only one. On Monday night, three young U.S. sprinters swept the 400 meters, with Jeremy Wariner (20) winning the gold, Otis Harris (22) the silver and Derrick Brew (26) the bronze. It was the first U.S. sweep in the quarter since '88 and the first American 1-2-3 since Barcelona, when Carl Lewis led a long jump sweep.

After the race, Wariner, Harris and Brew jogged sedately around the track, posing for pictures and using the flag very carefully. Frankly, they didn't look like they had won anything very big. Now, all three of these guys are pretty cool. I've talked to Wariner several times and the dude doesn't raise his voice or break character. So maybe what you see is what you get. Or maybe he heard the etiquette speech too many times. And saw the 4X100 video too many times. In the post-race press conference, Harris said, "We all talked before the race about how we were going to go out and bring respect to our country, and respect to the other countries and respect to the Olympics.''

I'm not going to criticize young people fresh out of college for acting and speaking with class and dignity. That's all good. But consider this: During the first week of the Games, a team of swimmers from South Africa (three of whom went -- or are soon to go -- to college in the U.S.) won the 4X100-meter relay. At the finish, one of them stood atop the starting blocks with his arms raised and flexed like Mr. Universe. On Monday night at the Stadium, a Greek woman named Hrysopiyi Devetzi did backflips to celebrate her silver medal in the triple jump. Briton Kelly Holmes won the 800 meters and looked utterly shocked, eyes as wide as saucers, arms outstretched.

On Tuesday night, Kenya swept the medals in the 3,000-meter steeplechase, a race that Kenyans dominate. Winner Ezekiel Kemboi began waving his left hand to the crowd 15 meters from the finish, switched to his right hand and then fist-pumped at the line. After runner-up Brimin Kipruto joined him, both men turned and waved bronze medalist Paul Kipsiele Koech across the line and all three embraced in a joyful huddle.

That's exuberance, right? So no complaints here. But what if the U.S. 400-meter guys had done this much? Would they have been spanked? In Lauryn Williams' case, she was afraid somebody would slap her wrist if she went nuts. The result is an Olympics dotted with U.S. athletes winning medals and often behaving like altar boys at a funeral. There is, it seems good exuberance and bad exuberance, and medalists are supposed to know the difference.

Also on Tuesday night, U.S. sprint hurdler Joanna Hayes won a gold medal in an Olympic record 12.37 seconds and went nuts. She threw her arms in the air, fell on the track, ran around holding a flag. I've heard no criticism, so apparently Hayes stayed on the proper side of the blurry line.

Of course, when a U.S. athlete does anything even remotely outrageous, he's excoriated, like Shawn Crawford was after his behavior in the semifinals of the 100 meters Sunday night. Crawford was easily winning the heat when he turned and began talking to training partner Justin Gatlin, who would win the gold medal later that night. Gatlin was saying, for the record, "Come on, come on...'' Pretty nasty stuff. Then he finished and feigned throwing something down, to represent throwing down a fast semifinal. I will grant that in the current environment, Crawford went a little over the top. But only a little. It was harmless and the type of thing that sprinters have always done. Until now.

And what Crawford did -- once -- was hardly different from what, say, Ray Lewis (or almost any other linebacker or defensive back playing professional, college or high school football) does on every single tackle in a game. But Olympic athletes, and in particular Olympic track and field athletes, are being held to an entirely different standard. Obviously, the letters "USA" on the front of the uniform change the equation, but are they supposed to change it this much?

The Olympic athletes have been lectured into submission. Apparently creating a generation of compliant medalists makes people back in their living rooms feel better about rooting for their home country. I guess that's a good thing, but there's a joylessness that I miss terribly. This Saturday, the USA should win the men's 4X100-meter relay, as it did in Sydney. With crisp baton passes, they might threaten the world record. Crawford will be on that team, as will Greene. I hope they don't make turbans out of the flag or take off their tops. But I also hope they find a way to have fun.