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Europe's
Nightmare
The man behind the effort to lure the 2008 Games to Texas is nicknamed Mattress Mac for the TV commercial he does with a mattress on his head. James McIngvale, owner of the Gallery Furniture store in Houston, is aspiring to become the Billy Payne of the Lone Star State. Mattress Mac's group, Texas 2008, began making good on its "We can beat the heat" mantra during the Games with air-conditioned headquarters in the Atlanta Chamber of Commerce building. With big ol' couches and big ol' TVs, Texas House resembles a furniture showroom, and some 1,200 daily visitors—"Texans and those who are Texas in spirit" reads the brochure—come to lounge among fake cacti and mounted steer skulls. Says disc jockey Cactus Jack Talley, whose Houston country music station broadcasts from the House, "We want them Games." Texas 2008's plan calls for spreading events among several Texas locales, including Austin, Houston and San Antonio. As yet there has been no push to include football, spring football or calf roping in the Games, but McIngvale did play linebacker for Texas, and he did recently pay $365,000 for the blue-ribbon steer from the Houston livestock show. ("It was dee-licious," says Cactus Jack.) McIngvale is exceedingly rich and has the backing of such honchos as former U.S. drug czar Lee Brown, as well as the promotional help of Carl Lewis and Hakeem Olajuwon. So even as the final cries of "Bye, y'all!" resound in Juan Antonio Samaranch's head (call him San Antonio Samaranch?), he may want to practice a few "Howdy, pardners!" If Louchka Batchvarova, assistant coach of Bulgaria's rhythmic gymnastics team, ever wants a career change, she could make it in Washington as spokeswoman for a politician. After her team was upset for the gold medal by Spain on Friday night, Batchvarova, subbing at a press conference for no-show head coach Nechka Robeva, was asked about the mistakes that cost her team the gold medal. "They were not really mistakes," said Batchvarova. "They were just some irregularities."
Paea Wolfgram Tonga, an archipelago in the South Pacific, is known as the Friendly Islands. In super heavyweight boxer Paea Wolfgram, 26, the nation has the perfect ambassador. The George Foreman-esque 309-pound behemoth has been inciting crowds to chant "Tonga! Tonga!" while advancing merrily to today's gold medal bout against Ukraine's Vladimir Klichko. "If I win, I would die," says Wolfgram (above), who has clinched Tonga's first-ever medal. "And the King would give me half of Tonga." King Taufa'ahau Tupou IV, a 300-pounder who holds the Tongan pole vault record, has asked his people to fast and pray for Wolfgram. He also phoned to wish Wolfgram luck, but, the boxer says, "I was eating a hamburger at the time and said, 'Tell the King I say hello.'"
As the Games wrap up today, it's worth reflecting on what will be left behind when the world's best athletes go home. The answer: not nearly enough. Atlanta-Fulton County Stadium, the longtime home of the Braves and the setting for baseball during the Games, will be torn down. The Braves will move into Olympic Stadium—for which a permanent name has yet to be chosen—after 36,000 seats are removed and the track is torn up. Such impermanence coming on the heels of so many brilliant performances brings a pang. Al Oerter—who, as the only track and field athlete before Carl Lewis to win four straight gold medals in one event, knows something about Olympic legacies—was in Atlanta in June for the U.S. track and field trials. Riding with SI senior writer Kenny Moore in a taxi past the two stadiums, Oerter caught sight of the bronze statue of Henry Aaron that greets baseball crowds. "So you tear this stadium down," he said, as if addressing the Games' organizers themselves, "and you make it so Atlanta's kids will never be able to stand in the place Henry Aaron stood when he hit his home runs." His eyes turned to the brick colonnade of Olympic Stadium. "And you have an Olympics in this one. And afterward you tear out the track here, so no Atlanta boy or girl will ever be able to run where the Olympians did. It's crazy." Indeed. But perhaps Oerter needn't worry so much about the trashing of Atlanta's sporting heritage. After all, the Aaron statue is to be repositioned outside the new stadium. And Mondo, the manufacturer of the Olympic track, is truly capturing the essence of these Games by offering chunks of the track's rubber surface to the public, framed and accompanied by a certificate of authenticity. Prices start at $19.95.
Having won the decathlon—and with it the traditional title of world's greatest athlete—Dan O'Brien is now talking Hollywood. Despite a thespian career thus far limited to playing a decathlete named Dan in a notorious series of TV commercials four years ago, O'Brien says he "would jump at the chance to work with Jim Carrey." O'Brien's father, Jim, for one, can wait. As he put it, "I'm Danned out, son." Memo to agent Leigh Steinberg, who over the past two days has been hyping his newest client, a certain pint-sized gymnast with a golden gimp and a Minnie Mouse voice: We're close to being Kerried out, too.
Venus Lacey They call Venus Lacey the Forrest Gump of the U.S. women's basketball team, which plays Brazil for the gold tonight. Like Gump, Lacey wore braces on her legs as a child because her feet were turned inward, and after leading Louisiana Tech to the NCAA title in 1988, she met the President. Venus was a different person then—her last name was Lacy. But because an e had mistakenly been added to her birth certificate and was consequently printed on her passport, she became Lacey for five seasons of European hoops. Her passport was used for Olympic processing, so she brought the extra vowel to Atlanta. "The important thing," says Lacey, who is averaging 7.0 points and 4.3 rebounds for the other Dream Team, "is that they never get my first name wrong."
On the corner of Spring and Luckie streets in downtown Atlanta, the Georgian Olympic Committee—from the nation of Georgia—has opened Georgian House to help popularize the country's history and athletic achievements. That's no simple task, given that geographically challenged Americans are likely to figure the Georgian House is a place to learn about Lewis Grizzard. And even some who know that these Georgians don't drive pickups are a little confused. "Some visitors think we are located in Africa or even South America," says Paata Natsvlishvili, vice president of the Georgian National Olympic Committee, who quickly adds, "But it's not their fault." These Georgians are nothing if not public-relations minded, relentlessly trying to inject their tiny, mountainous country tucked between the Black and Caspian seas into the global consciousness. A slick brochure entitled "From Georgia to Georgia" includes maps and graphs and an illuminating section on one Georgian homeboy, Jumber Lezhava, who has the distinction of having done 44,141 pushups in 24 hours. The p.r. task would be easier were Georgia's 36 athletes having more success at these Games, their first under the Georgian flag. But despite the rich tradition of this former Soviet republic—it supplied 31 Olympic gold medals to the U.S.S.R. over the last four decades—Georgia had won just two bronzes through yesterday. The real battle, however, has been won—Georgia is indeed a little bit more on our mind.
How many ACOG staffers does it take to change a light bulb? ACOG spokesman: Who says the light bulb's not working?
SI Olympic Dailies
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