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The view from inside Victory shows Nothstein's true colors
BANKSTOWN, Australia -- Greetings from the infield at the Dunc Gray Velodrome in Bankstown, site of the track cycling events at the Sydney Games. This may be one of the few Olympic sports in which reporters sometimes watch from within the action, encircled by its speed and power. The infield of a velodrome is the perfect vantage point from which to appreciate Marty Nothstein, who is to U.S. track cycling what Lance Armstrong is to the roads. Nothstein stands 6'2", 215 pounds and carries a linebacker's attitude to the track. Many a cyclist has bumped shoulders with Nothstein over the years and been bumped back twice as hard. Here Nothstein is trying to accomplish what no U.S. cyclist has ever done at a non-boycotted Games: win a gold medal. He's competing in the match sprint, a three-lap contest in which the riders play chess for a lap, start feigning and dodging on the second lap and accelerate like the dickens on the final lap. Nothstein has been among the world's best at this event ever since he won the world title in 1994 (and became the first U.S. cyclist to do so since 1912). In fact, he has won the match sprint, keirin and Olympic sprint titles for five straight years. But there is one omission on his impressive resume. At the 1996 Atlanta Games, Nothstein settled for a silver medal in the sprint, losing his two races against Germany's Jens Fiedler by less than the length of a bike tire. I met with Nothstein at the U.S. trials in Frisco, Texas, earlier this summer. I had been warned that he could be a difficult character, but instead I simply found him honest, a remarkably straight shooter. Yes, the money in sport mattered to him. Yes, his cycling had often taken priority over his life at home with wife Christi, son Tyler, 5, and daughter Devon, 2. Yes, he could be a jerk to compete against at times. No, he didn't think anyone in the world could possibly want to win an Olympic gold medal more than he did. "There hasn't been a day when those races in '96 haven't haunted me a little," Nothstein told me. "I trained like hell to be at my best on that day and I wasn't. I failed. Simple." This is his redemption: a best-of-three against Fielder in the semifinals and then a shot at gold. The second race isn't nearly as close. Nothstein passes at the same time. By emerging from Fiedler's slipstream and creating his own, he inevitably gets passed again. But this time Nothstein shoots by on the final curve and isn't seriously challenged. He pumps his fist, knowing that his spot in the finals is secure. At this point Nothstein catches a break. The other semifinal, between French countrymen Laurent Gane and Florian Rousseau , needs three races to complete, with Rousseau winning. This allows Nothstein extra time to rest and prepare. The first race against Rousseau is nearly a carbon copy of those against Fielder. Nothstein seems supremely confident in his ability to draft, emerge, pass on the turn and hold off his foes. It is almost an easy out for riders to try to run away on the inside in each race, but no one has been able to do it successfully against Nothstein, who pulls away from Rousseau and makes his first victory look easy. "It's you, now," Sean Petty, the U.S. team leader, yells at Nothstein as he rides past a lap after the race. "One more. One more. Home in one more." At the start line before race No. 2, Rousseau's eyes are as big as tires. Nothstein simply stares down at the track just in front of his feet. Rousseau tries to go early this time, perhaps convinced he can't withstand Nothstein's late charge. It doesn't work. Nothstein counters just as quickly and this time has Rousseau beaten at the start of the last turn. Nothstein raises his arm before the finish line and soon the no-nonsense brute of the boards is in tears. He does his requisite lap with the American flag, then rides up the banked track to his family and takes Tyler along for the next two laps much the way Dan Jansen did with daughter Jane after winning the 1,000-meter speedskating event at the '94 Lillehammer Games. Tyler waves. Marty buries his head in his son's shirt to wipe his eyes. "I told him, 'Daddy won the gold medal' and gave him a kiss," Nothstein says afterward. "He just held on. I wanted him to leave Australia with a memory." His fellow infielders will do the same. Sports Illustrated writer-reporter Brian Cazeneuve is in Sydney covering the
Games for the magazine and CNNSI.com. Check back daily to read Cazeneuve's
behind-the-scenes reports from Down Under.
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