Synchro Or Swim? by David Fleming The little helper person at the media transportation mall had me cornered. And I'm quite sure she was having fun watching me try to squirm out of answering her question. It was a nasty, low-down, mean spirited inquiry and I'm thinking about filing a formal complaint. "Where do you need to go, sir?" She asked loud enough, I'm sure, for all my peers to hear over the roar of bus engines. I put my hand over my mouth and coughed out ahh-hhemm, synggnized smimming, ahh-hhemm. "Beg your pardon?" "Syn...chro...NIZED swimming. OK? I want to go to synchronized swimming. Anybody here got a problem with that?" "Bus six, sir." OK, so I was a little embarrassed about mission number 16: To try to eliminate all past biases, check out synchronized swimming in person and report back on whether we should keep it in the Olympics. Once seated in the proper bus headed to the Georgia Tech Aquatic Center I concentrated on erasing both of my prior experiences with synchro. The first is that classic Saturday Night Live skit with Martin Short attempting to make the Olympics with a nose plug and orange floaties on his arms. "I don't swim so good," he says when asked about his chances of making the Games. The second was the time my little brother and I got into a fight while swimming at our local pool, splashing and twirling around like crazy only to be halted by some guy from the USOC who ran up and handed us the 1984 U.S. national silver medal for men's pairs. "There are men involved in this sport," said Canadian team member Erin Woodley. "And maybe we'll see them in the Olympics in about 50 or 100 years." The U.S. team shows its game face. With those memories erased I took my seat in the sold-out venue where a women reminded the crowd to "Maintain maximum silence for the swimmers and judges to fully concentrate." Then a `pre-swim' team, used to warm up the judges, (code for "keep them awake") held a demonstration. And as much as I tried to avoid it-- honest--I nearly fell out of my seat laughing. They entered the pool in a formation that looked like Washington crossing the Delaware, only in this rendition the president had on a bright orange sequined suit, lots of mascara, a nose plug, about half a pound of gelatin in his hair, an eerie perma-smile like the Joker and his foot on a floating teammate's throat. According to a press release, in preparing for the pre-swim a member of this team was attempting a back flip entry and "inadvertently landed on the pool deck." Mexico was the first team to compete in the free routine. (This team, it turns out, was so crushed by not medaling that they were giggling and posing for goofy pictures on the pool deck less than a minute after the event.) Bored, I tuned in something a little more exciting on the TV next to me--settling on the closed-circuit channel that shows the Olympic torch 24 hours a day. "It just seems like people are falling in love with our sport," insisted U.S. team member Nathalie Schneyder. More like falling asleep. The women watching to my right was asleep and I spotted a bit of drool dangling out of the mouth of a guy on my left. This scene brought back memories of Econ 101 in college. I got a C-. I'm flunking Synchro 101, big time. Danger -- journalist at work. France went next. I can report that this team was involved in a big controversy after they were told seven weeks ago by the French government to scrap their routine set to the music of Schindler's List when some people were offended. I would have been, too, had I not been asleep. Slept right through most of the Eastern Hemisphere in fact, including China and Japan's routines. Before the Russians went, I was awoken by a guy next to me yelling "This is a big moment." I'll say. There's so much gelatin in the pool coming off competitor's hair that if the temperature falls anymore this evening we could be looking at the world's largest bowl of Jello. "(Russia's) flexibility is without peer," says U.S. coach Chris Carver with a straight face. "It's something for us to aspire to." It certainly inspired the Canadians who on the strength of a perfect 10 from the French judge for technical merit, moved into first place with just the Americans left to up-side down dog paddle for an Olympic medal--the same kind handed out to Michael Johnson. To be fair, I doze off through the first part of the U.S. event, titled Fantasia on the Orchestra, which is meant to "Appeal to all walks of life and all parts of the universe," according to fellow U.S. coach Gail Emery, again with a straight face. Synchro is the Waterworld of Olympic sports. It appealed to every one in the galaxy except Switzerland, I guess. Because the U.S. earned 10s across the board, with the exception of a 9.9 from the Swiss judge, to win gold. I am one of roughly seven journalists covering the post fancy-breath-holding contest news conference where a TV is placed next to the athletes so we can watch track and field. During this conference, where I learn that our synchro team has a cross trainer, a sports psychologist and a performance specialist, I gather my thoughts for a final analysis as we look toward Sydney 2000. Personally, I think this sport's spot should be given to something more athletic, competitive and a little less flashy. How about miniature golf? photographs (from top) by Tom Lynn; David Fleming; Heinz Kluetmeier   SI Olympic Dailies Day: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18