From Stillness Comes Swiftness

Last July in Los Angeles he bargain-hunted at six stereo stores for the best price on a portable music box to complement his Akai reel-to-reel and his Technics receiver. At one store, the salesman said, "You should come to America and you wouldn't need to bargain so hard. You're a champion; why don't they give you money? Come to America and you will be a millionaire like Mark Spitz."

"The first six years after the Olympics were a blur. I just went along for the ride. At one point, with just me and my wife driving, I had a Ferrari, and two Mercedes." Spitz smiles. "I was trying to find myself."

As grand marshal of the Christmas Boat Parade, he sits on the lead boat. Forty-five vessels follow him, decorated like Christmas trees, for a two-lap spin around Marina Del Rey harbor. Above his head, two banners run from one mast to the other. One says MARK SPITZ. The Other, OLYMPIC FANTASY.

"Mark, you've got to stand up and wave!" says a parade official.

Spitz winces. "It's my back, I think it's arthritis, from swimming. I once sat down and figured out that I've swimmed 26,000 miles in my life.

"Three years after the Olympics, without having worked out since, I swam a time trial just after the world championships in Colombia. I was two-tenths of a second off the winning time in the 100. Two-tenths!"

Thump.

"What was that?"

Thump-thump. Thump-thump.

"Did you hear it? What is it?"