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For the U.S., the brightest find of Spartakiad, both in ability and personality, was Carl Lewis, just turned 18. In only his third competition outside high school meets, the gracious, unassuming Willingboro, N.J., athlete won a gold medal for his leg in the 800-meter relay and a bronze in his specialty, the long jump. Lewis was disappointed with third place in the long jump, but Stan Vinson, 27, who won gold medals in the 400-meter dash and 1,600-meter relay, looked ahead: "I think he'll jump 29 ft. before he's 20 the way he's going." Bob Beamon's 1968 world record is 29 ft. 2½ in.
The U.S. women's volleyball team established itself as a contender for gold or silver in 1980. After defeating the Ukraine volleyballers and upsetting the potent Moscow squad, the American women narrowly lost a grueling, five-game match to the Russian Federation, the Soviet national team. The American women live and practice together six days a week in Colorado Springs, under the auspices of the newly invigorated U.S. Volleyball Association. Mostly in their mid-20s, they have interrupted college, romances and careers to serve and spike. Said Janet Baier, 24, an aspiring cellist from St. Louis: "I can play the cello till I'm 90, like Casals did, but I can only play volleyball now."
The American men's basketball team was an artistic success but a Scoreboard failure, finishing fifth. Hastily recruited from the second tier of amateur players—most of the best played instead in the Pan American Games—the youthful Americans were unschooled in international rules and woefully short on muscle and experience. Nevertheless, their fluid fakes and brilliant improvisations drew large crowds, even to their practice sessions. A bravura moment came when Herb Williams, 21, a forward from Ohio State, slammed home a fearsome dunk against Yugoslavia and shattered the backboard in the process. After a moment of startled silence, the Soviet crowd roared with laughter and cheers, and one straight-faced official quipped: "Please ask your player not to perform that play any more than five times—we only have six more backboards."
Among Eastern bloc teams, the Soviet Union showed its usual depth and set two women's world records. No new sports monolith rose from obscurity in the way East Germany did in 1972. But a tiny star may have been born. Natalia Shaposhnikova, 18, an 84-lb. Soviet gymnast, captured both the all-round competition and the fancy of onlookers; "Natasha" may well become the Olga Korbut of 1980.
The U.S. contingent was less concerned with rivals than with logistics. Language, transportation and communications in sprawling Lenin Stadium proved to be nagging problems. Said Track and Field Coach Jimmy Carnes: "Next year we intend to come here as self-contained as we possibly can."
Track competitors had an especially frustrating time preparing for their races. Frequently they would warm up only to end up waiting in a cold concrete room for 30 minutes before the start of their events. Said Ron Davis, 22, a 400-meter man: "The Soviet athletes are used to being told to take off their sweats, then stand in the wind for ten minutes. We aren't. Maybe we have to get used to it."