- TOP PLAYERSOffensePABLO S. TORRE | August 20, 2012
- TAMPA BAY buccaneersENEMY lines WHAT A RIVAL COACH SAYSJune 28, 2012
- Faces in the CrowdJune 11, 2001
" Hayes Jones is no longer with us."
"You mean he died?"
"The Olympics have always been a shining dream for me, unreal and mystical, where everything takes on deep meaning. So at JFK, when we got on that funny container bus that took us out to the aircraft, Steve and I were giddy, saying, 'This is the slowest plane I've ever been on,' but I was thinking, 'Here's where the fantasy begins.' Then I looked around and it was nothing special, just a bunch of guys I knew. Coming in to Oslo, I got ready for the magic to hit me. But it was only rain."
Johnson provided his own magic, as at breakfast, mixing the contents of two bowls. "Ah, oatmeal and applesauce. Gives you the strength of a thousand butterflies."
Before we emerged from Nymphenburg, Clayton and the iridescent Hill, who had pushed the early pace, dropped behind. Usami and Foster took the lead. Once out on pavement again, Frank cruised through the front group, now down to eight, observing runners closely. With 17 miles to go, as we ran beneath maples lining a murky canal, he surged ahead.
Nobody went with him. It was hot, and it seemed he had spurted too sharply. He would pay for his extravagance later. So as he moved away we each sought our most economic rhythm, and the pack split up. I ran for a mile with Gaston Roelants of Belgium, whose shoes were bound to his feet with yards of tape to prevent friction and blisters. He slowed with a side ache.
I caught Jack Foster and tried to cajole him into running the slightest increment faster. He looked at me stonily. Then a rejuvenated Clayton pounded by and I took up with him. Along a smooth stretch of road our shadows preceded us. Clayton's was full of movement, his arms clawing high across his chest, his head bobbing. I looked over. His tongue rolled in and out of his mouth.