Quotes of the Day
Besides the terms drug scandal and BALCO, the phrase bandied about most often at last month's U.S. Olympic track-and-field trials in Sacramento, Calif., was "oldhead." It's the nickname track and field's rising young stars apply to their veteran counterparts. "They are the elders," says Justin Gatlin, 22, who will run in the 100-m and 200-m sprints in Athens. "The heads of the pack. It's a term of respect." Hurdler Sheena Johnson, 21, who ran a world-leading 52.95 sec. in the 400 m at the trials, isn't as polite. Says Johnson: "We feel it's time for them to go."
Don't worry, Sheena. They're almost gone. Age is chasing some champions off the Olympic stage, and an ugly drug scandal is hunting down others. Superstar Marion Jones, 28, didn't qualify in the two events, the 100-m and the 200-m dashes, in which she took gold in Sydney. She's merely a long jumper. So while suggestions of drug use—which she vehemently denies—cloud her legacy, America's success on the track is no longer riding on her shoulders. She's just another oldhead.
For a sport in desperate need of a makeover, the rise of the young bloods is nothing but good news. Hear that sigh of relief? It's coming from U.S.A. Track and Field headquarters in Indianapolis, Ind., because the four sprinters charged with using steroids supplied by the Bay Area Laboratory Cooperative (BALCO), including Jones' boyfriend, 100-m world-record holder Tim Montgomery, didn't qualify for the Olympic team. Yes, doping continues to dog the sport of track and field; on three straight days during the trials, new cheating accusations arose. And untarnished veterans, like hurdler and former Olympic sprinting champion Gail Devers, 37, and 110-m hurdles gold medalist Allen Johnson, 33, will make a last stand for the oldheads.
404 Not Found
With an average age of 26.9, this team is the youngest since 1992; this summer could see the sport's future make its debut. "Our youth is a good way to get the focus away from the not-so-nice things that are happening in track and field," says 100-m sprinter Lauryn Williams, 20, who just finished her junior year at the University of Miami. "And we're not just happy to be on the team. We all have a shot at medals."
Two Olympic rookies—Shawn Crawford, 26, and Gatlin—are favorites in the 200-m dash and join 2000 champion Maurice Greene as possible top-three finishers in the 100 m. Crawford might be the fastest man on the planet, having run this year's best times in both dashes. Unlike the flamboyant Greene, who tattooed GOAT (Greatest of All Time) on his right biceps, Crawford lets his running do the talking. Crawford's training partner, the baby-faced Gatlin, is more outspoken. He's happy to run his mouth and his legs. "I want to get out there and dominate track and field," he said after running a personal-best 9.92 sec. in the 100 m at the trials. Although the Crawford-Gatlin matchup could be the rivalry track needs in its glamour event, the two friends see each other as teammates. "We're close, so we don't need that tension," says Gatlin. "We just want to finish one-two and think about everyone else behind us." And just who would be No. 1? That's why they race.
If any American can make people forget the doping scandal, it's Allyson Felix, 18, a phenom in the 200 m. Last spring Felix became the first U.S. track athlete ever to turn pro out of high school when she inked a six-figure deal with Adidas that included her college tuition at U.S.C. Felix is trained by a genuine oldhead, the legendary Pat Connolly, 60, a former UCLA coach who guided Evelyn Ashford to a gold medal in the 100 m at the 1984 Los Angeles Games.
Connolly delayed her retirement to take on such a prodigy—and the whole track culture. "I felt like I had to protect Allyson from her own agent," she says of Renaldo Nehemiah, himself a hurdling legend and a former Connolly charge. "And he's not happy about that, but that's too bad." Connolly says a philosophical conflict antagonized her ex-pupil. She says Nehemiah wanted Felix to compete in as many meets as possible, especially lucrative ones in Europe. Connolly thought Felix needed more intensive one-on-one training to prepare for the Olympic trials. "If the agents just leave me alone, I'll get her there," says Connolly. "Allyson will be worth so much more to Renaldo if she gets a medal in the Games." Nehemiah declined to talk to TIME.
The duo compromised. Felix ran in North America only, but she did a Glamour photo shoot to expand her appeal. "It was a big adjustment," Felix says of training under Connolly. "I'm working a lot harder. But she has helped me see the whole picture in that we're trying to be good enough at trials but my best at the Olympic Games." She was more than good enough in Sacramento—she finished first and ran a 22.28 in the 200 m, the second best time in the world this year. Felix is peaking at the right moment. Says Connolly: "She hasn't run her fastest race yet."
No pole vaulters are caught up in the scandal—no surprise. The vaulters know they're odd enough without drugs. "We all have a screw loose," says Toby Stevenson, at 27 the youngest vaulter on the U.S. team and the only athlete in the world to clear 6 m (19 ft. 8 1/4 in.) this year. He's not only a gold-medal favorite; he's also a crowd favorite. At his urging, fans cheer as he approaches a runway. With his frizzy locks escaping his crash helmet—"I've always used it for safety," he says, citing a recent wave of vaulting accidents—Stevenson dashes toward the box like some horseless jouster, plants the pole and after ascending over the bar, pumps his fists wildly before hitting the mat.
Then comes the best part—the dance. Maybe he'll snatch the pole back and ride it like a cowboy. Or he'll do the funky chicken. He might pull out the robot—"It's a classic," he says, laughing. "You get this reaction from the people, like 'Oh, my God, he's doing the robot.'" Some purists aren't smiling, labeling Stevenson a showboat. But he says his antics are what the vault needs. "I'm just having a great time," says the Stanford economics grad, who plans to start his own business. "I'm not taunting anyone. This is a professional sport—it needs help. It needs fans. And if someone says, 'I heard this crazy pole vaulter that does these dumb dances is going to be at a track meet. Let's go check it out,' I've done something right."
Despite the new wave, there are lingering weaknesses that are hurting the sport. In the middle- and long-distance events, the U.S. hasn't had a star in decades. In Alan Webb, 21, who in 2001 broke the high school mile record that had stood for 36 years, the U.S. has its best medal chance in the 1,500 m, although it's unlikely he will beat the dominant African runners. Some fans are fed up with the drug headlines and will tune out no matter how many kids approach the starting line. "I acknowledge this reality," says Craig Masback, CEO of U.S.A. Track and Field. "And I accept it." So Masback just needs Crawford and Gatlin to win medals in both sprints, then win their relays. And Felix to take the gold in the 200 m, with her smiling, stunning face a reminder of what Jones used to be. And for Stevenson to dance his way to an even higher world mark. Then he needs them and the other 110 U.S. track-and-field athletes in Greece to pass their drug tests. Then track and field can at least start healing. What a perfect place for a Herculean task.
- SEAN GREGORY