The Front Runner

gun. He took command, set a suicide pace, and ran away. Armas Sepponan was forced to set a faster early pace than he preferred, to stay within striking distance of Billy. In the last two laps, Billy eased off the pace, and Armas moved up strongly. But Billy had burned his kick to a cinder, and had just enough strength left to protect his lead.
    They came balls-out down the final straight with Billy three yards in the lead, and the 70,000 spectators going berserk. Both of them were staggering. Billy was white with the pain of his liver cramps.
    He hit the tape with both arms flung up in dizzy exultation. Sepponan crossed the line a half-second later.
    I sat there so weak with relief that I could hardly react.
    The times were up on the big scoreboard, but I already knew from my stopwatch. For the first time in history, the 27:30 barrier had been not merely broken, but smashed. Both of them had done it.
    BILLY SIVE U.S. 27:28.9. ARMAS SEPPONAN FINLAND 27:29.4. JOHN FELTS AUSTRALIA 27:35.6...
    Vince had shouted himself hoarse during the race, but neither John nor I had made a sound. Now Vince and John were both crying. They hugged me, and I was so stunned with joy that I hugged them back automatically. Betsy kissed me on the cheek, and I gave her a peck back.
    The entire stadium was on its feet applauding, which always happens when a popular favorite wins.
    Down on the track, Billy was going berserk with joy. Striding back to the finish line, his face alight, he jumped up and down and blew kisses at the crowd.
    Obviously the pain of the liver cramps was forgotten. Mike Stella had come in sixth with a respectable 28:01.2,.and the two of them hugged. Then Billy and Armas hugged each other. The two of them walked drunkenly around, sweaty and disheveled, their arms across each other's shoulders.
    Then Billy started his victory lap. He tugged Armas with him, and motioned the other exhausted runners to join them. Shortly most of the field were jogging with him around the track. Billy and Mike and Armas went along hand in hand. The ovation went on and on. The cold chills just kept going up and down my body as I listened to that mass of humanity pay its tribute. He had repaid their warmth and support by showing them something new of what a man was capable of.
    "Come on," I said to Vince and John.
    We scrambled down to the trackside gate where family were allowed to join with the athletes when they came off the track.
    Billy was just finishing the victory lap. He saw us waiting there and came jogging over. His face was wet with tears. In another moment he was in my arms, smelling of wet hair and wet cloth and good sweat. He held me so hard that he hurt me. Everyone was staring, but we didn't give a damn. His whole body was shaking as he cried with happiness.
    I touseled his damp hair and said, "Hey, Mr. Sive, you were pretty good out there."
    Then Billy hugged his father and Vince. He wiped his eyes on the tail of his singlet and pulled on his sweats, and then he cried some more. He hugged Tap-linger and Tay Parker.
    Even Gus Lindquist thawed to the point where he said grudgingly, "Dot vas nice running, Billy."
    An hour later, showered and somewhat combed, wearing the U.S. team's fancy blue warmups, he was on the victory stand.. The gold medal was glinting on his chest. He pulled Armas and John Felts up on the top step with him. The three stood straight and un-moving while the American flag went up and the an-
    them played, Billy was seen to shift his feet a little— he had bad blisters. He had himself under control now. He looked, simply, very happy and a little tired.
    He had felt a lifetime's release. I envied him that release. It would have been nice to cry a little. But tears were not in my education. However deep my happiness and pride, my eyes stayed dry.
    Not long after that, Billy, Armas and I were in the ABC-TV quarters. We were interviewed live for the edification and information of the folks back home. The three of us sat with commentator Frank Hayes holding the mike to our faces. We had one of those beautiful banal postmortems on a race, and homosexuality was not mentioned once.
    HAYES (to Armas): Do you feel that you made any mistakes?
    ARMAS (shaking his head): No. I am running smart race. I am starting my kick at just right time. But Billy is the more strong this time. That is all.
    HAYES: Are you disappointed, Armas?
    ARMAS (shaking his head again, with his elfin smile): In 1972 I am winning the golds in this