From Stillness Comes Swiftness

Spitz has made the rounds at the Christmas Boat Parade cocktail party, and has met all the people with the ribboned identification stickers on their chests defining them as press, official or VIP. Now he's off to the side, drinking a gin and tonic and talking with some friends.

"So we're driving in Arizona just after Mark got the Corvette," says Bob, "and I'm reading from the manual; 'Do not drive faster than 55 for the first 500 miles,' and Mark says, '55? 55??' Boom! All of a sudden we're going 110!"

"And now," the emcee says into a microphone, "I'd like to introduce our special guest, the man that finished in the Top 10 recently when national broadcasters and sportswriters voted for the top athlete of all time...."

The applause is warm. Most everyone here knows the Mark Spitz story: The 14-year-old whose mother drove him 150 miles round trip for two hours of swimming practice, whose father subsequently changed jobs and cities so his son could continue to train under Haines—and whose father was once so convinced that his son's opponents had jumped the gun that he dashed out of the stands and onto the pool deck in rage. The 18-year-old who talked of winning six golds in the '68 Olympics and became haunted when he won only two, both in relays. The 22-year-old who won an unprecedented seven golds in the '72 Games, became a cover on TIME magazine, a sex-symbol poster boy, a TV darling and, according to his agent, "the most sought-after talent in theatrical history."

Twenty-five minutes ago, Salnikov was due to speak at a downtown Moscow reception for Soviet naval officers. "It is more important to work out," he says on the way to the reception from a morning practice. A man in a black suit intercepts the entourage at the door.

"What are you doing here?"

"We bring Salnikov," replies the man who has driven the swimmer there.

"Salnikov? Where's Salnikov?" He looks just to the left of Vladimir's wet hair and right ear.

"This is Salnikov."

Salnikov reaches for his ID.