America held the first of its quadrennial political conventions high in the Colorado Rockies last week and for soaring exuberance, bitter disappointment, grandiose groaning, foppish lobbying and closed-door pressuring, the Democrats and Republicans will be hard pressed to match the exhausting Olympic Trials that dragged on for two weeks at the Air Force Academy. Yet maybe it was worth it. What Coach Henry Iba and the selection committee finally came up with to represent the United States at Munich turned out to be the ultimate in new-look tickets—a fresh, unfledged and callow group of children; the youngest team to go forth into battle since Lord of the Flies.
"I got me a bunch of babies here," Iba said one evening after observing an endless stream of faces, names, numbers and colored uniforms running around below him. "But there's a lot of talent, too. We'll just have to get some leaders and some brutes who won't get pushed around."
The youthful flavor of this year's team is by design, not happenstance. The United States has never lost an Olympic basketball game, much less a gold medal in the sport, but four years ago at Mexico City several international teams appeared to have caught up with the Americans (notably Russia, Yugoslavia and Brazil) and U.S. officials quickly realized that the Red, White and Blue could no longer field one of its usual pickup teams and expect the rest of the world to lie down and play green. One result was Olympic development camps where high school seniors and college freshmen, among others, could begin early to compete under international rules, which put a premium on nonstop action, physical strength and rough banging. Another was a new sense of determination. By the time Iba and Coaches Don Haskins and John Bach gathered in Colorado Springs, they knew what they were after.
In contrast to the relaxed 1968 Olympic Trials at Albuquerque, the atmosphere last week was stern and cloistered. Everyone was confined to the Academy grounds ("This awful prison base," Ohio State's Allan Hornyak called it). They lived in cadet quarters, had seven a.m. wake-up, 11:30 p.m. lights-out and the use of hardly any telephones or television.
"I'm hating this whole thing," said Ed Ratleff of Long Beach, who was to make the team. "Everything is a mile away. All we do is walk up and down steps. Where is the air?"
"I haven't seen a shaved leg in 12 days," said Doug Collins of Illinois State, who made it also. And another brand-new Olympian of ol' countrified tastes and manner spoke for the multitude. "When this is over, me and my partners are taking a van to the hills, opening up some Coors and turning on the stereo. And I ain't never, ever comin' back to this here Air Force Academy military fightin' place."
The format of the trials also had been vastly overhauled since the confusing "alphabet war" of four years ago when the NCAA, AAU, NAIA, Armed Forces, NJCAA and everyone but NASA fielded some kind of squad. In Colorado there were eight teams composed in Mixmaster fashion of college kids, AAU veterans and military personnel, all of whom played each other—for a total of 28 games in seven days. While this system rendered spectators deaf, dumb and stumbling blind, it also evened up the competition, merged identities and made for fewer arguments, political power plays and hurt feelings in the selection meetings. When the trials were over the U.S. seemed to have a balanced, young and exciting squad. Here it is.
Centers: Swen Nater, UCLA; Dwight Jones, Houston; Tom Burleson, North Carolina State.
The best amateur center in the world, the feared and acclaimed Bill Walton, stayed away because of bad knees, but the selection committee picked Walton's teammate and proxy, Nater.
This is no fluke. The 6'11", 253-pound native of Holland has been playing the game for only three years but he bounded out from the shadows of the UCLA bench last week with a fury, and he is ready to shine. He started shooting the moment he hit camp and did not stop until he had led all scorers. "He knows once he gets back to Bruin land there will be no more free shots," said one pro scout.