From Stillness Comes Swiftness

Salnikov's development into the U.S.S.R.'s greatest swimmer began when he was eight; a Leningrad coach named Gleb Petrov stopped by his school and asked who wanted to study swimming. The boy remembered the call the Msta River always made to him when he visited his grandmother 150 miles south of Leningrad; how he would disobey her orders and wade into the water—but he never knew how to stay afloat like the other boys. Vladimir raised his hand. Petrov studied the boy's movements on land and picked him as one of 120 children from his region to enter a three-day-a-week training program.

One year later the sessions were increased to six a week. Vladimir often missed practices with earaches and colds until a doctor removed his tonsils and adenoids at age 10. But his times improved enough to earn him little dolphin badges as one of the six best swimmers in his age group in the country. At 12, of the original 120 children, he was one of 14 chosen to attend a Leningrad sports school.

Now Vladimir was awaking at 7 a.m., leaving home to work out at the nearby school pool from 8:30 to 10:30, attending classes until 5 and then training again until 8. His father's bushy eyebrows bunched. Valeri Salnikov had played volleyball and lifted weights as a youth, but he had then dismissed sports as frivolous. "Swimming and records are all temporary," Valeri said.

"When I was six or seven he started talking to me like he was a commander and I was one of his seamen," says Vladimir. "My mom and sister came to watch me swim but he was very cool. Even now, he still has his doubts. I think he prefers me to be a sea captain. Perhaps it has been a subconscious motivation for me."

At 14, Vladimir switched to the then little-known fireball, Koshkin. For two years Salnikov lost every race to his training partner, Rusin, churning himself into such a blind frenzy in practice that he sometimes bumped his head on Rusin's heels. Then came the '76 nationals in Kiev, in which Rusin and two other swimmers were favored to clinch positions on the Soviet Olympic team.

Gorbunov had watched Salnikov train. He took him aside an hour before the 1,500-meter race. He led the 16-year-old into a darkened room and lulled him into a sweet semi-hypnotic dream of blue skies above and gentle ocean below. Suddenly, far away, Salnikov heard his name. He blinked and sat up. It was the public-address announcer; the other seven swimmers were on the blocks, ready for the gun. "Go now," said Gorbunov. "Swim very quiet."

Vladimir ran to his lane and heard the pistol shot almost immediately. As he dived he felt a strength and calm he had never known before a race. Salnikov finished third in 15:43.92. He swam the distance faster than he ever had in his life, beat Rusin, who was fifth in 16:00.44, and made the '76 Olympic team. Soviet coaches were astounded. They were shocked two months later when Salnikov slashed 14.5 seconds off that time in Montreal, finished fifth, best among the Soviets, and set a European record of 15:29.45.

At 16, without knowing it, Salnikov had grasped the paradox. Out of stillness comes swiftness, out of patience comes energy. He had cross bred the two seeds that grew on opposite sides of the wall.

"Hey, Mark, jump in the water and see if you can swim as fast as the boat."

"Where is your Speedo swimsuit, Mark? Show your body!"