The Front Runner

double. Now Billy is winning them. It is fair. You must understand, I am not caring about the medals. I am running always against clock. My goal in this race is breaking the 27:30. So I am having the new personal record, and I am pleased. If Billy is not being in the race, maybe I am not running so good. Another time, possibly, I am being the more strong.
    HAYES (grinning): Do you feel that maybe that time is coming in the 5,000 next Sunday?
    Billy and Armas looked at each other, grinning savagely.
    ARMAS: Billy is knowing that the 5,000 is my race.
    BILLY (to Armas): Trying to psych me, huh?
    We all laughed.
    HAYES: Well, let's hope that we can look forward to some more brilliant competition between you two.
    BILLY: We're an ideal combination, really. The way
    we work at breaking each other, who knows how far we'll knock those 10,000 and 5,000 times down.
    HAYES : You don't feel that you've reached your ultimate?
    BILLY: No. And I don't think Armas feels that way either.
    HAYES: How do you feel about owning a world record, Billy?
    BILLY (with Virgo candidness): Good.
    HAYES: Y OU feeling the pressure of owning a record?
    BILL Y : Oh yeah, already. The race is over just a couple of hours, and already the pressure about the 5,000 is incredible. But I don't really put that pressure on myself.
    HAYES: What are your plans for after the Games, both of you?
    ARMAS : I am competing in Europe. I am peaking maybe two, three weeks more, maybe I am breaking Billy's record. (He grinned at Billy.) Then I am going home and being fireman.
    BILLY: This guy is trying to do a psych job on me here.
    We all laughed.
    BILLY: I'm gonna go home to New York and teach. (He looked at me.) We both are. We have to earn a living. I plan to take a nice, long rest, an easy crosscountry season, have some fun. Then hit the boards.
    HAYES: H OW about you, Harlan? You were an Olympic prospect in your day. Are you maybe living in this a little vicariously?
    ME: Well, if somebody had given me the choice of winning a medal myself back in '56 or '60, or of helping Billy win it today, the choice would be pretty clear. This medal means so much more.
    BILLY: A lot of people don't realize how much Harlan's coaching did for me. When I came to Prescott, I was doing nearly everything wrong. If Harlan hadn't twisted my arm so that I'd train in a way that was right for me, I'd still be messing around there over 28 minutes. Maybe I'd be off the track altogether with injuries ...
    HAYES: Twisted your arm?
    BILLY (laughing): I'm very stubborn.
    HAYES: Armas, what about you? Are you feeling the pressure about the 5,000?
    ARMAS: From my countrymen, yes. (He was alluding delicately to the fact that straight Finnish track fans felt that the national masculinity was at stake. But he then slid over his own allusion by adding diplomatically): You see, my countrymen are feeling that the 10,000 and the 5,000 are Finnish property, and our country it is very small, so ...
    We all laughed. I sat there feeling very smug that the folks back home were being forced to watch this on their tubes.
    BILLY (drawling): You mean that I'm an American colonial imperialist who is taking over Finnish territory ...
    We all laughed harder.
    That night, Billy and his bodyguards left the Olympic Village for about three hours. They came to the Cartier Hotel in downtown Montreal for a celebration. A group of about thirty-five of us had dinner, hosted by Billy's very proud father.
    After dinner, Steve Goodnight threw a huge party in the hotel bar, the Petit Fleur. This bar, as it happened, was one of the leading gay bars in Montreal. All the others must have been empty that night—it seemed like every gay in town was crowding in there. Champagne, wine, whiskey and beer flowed like the river Jordan. A great number of straights, athletic people and sundry celebrities mingled with the gays, but finally they became a little intimidated by the heavy gay pride in the air. Only the Prescotts and Mike and Sue stuck it out, and finally the Prescotts got tired and went to their own hotel.
    Billy, looking a little exhausted by now, was lionized, worshipped, cruised, felt up, kissed and hugged. Finally he couldn't take it any longer, and he hopped up and sat on the grand piano to be above the crowd. He sat there smiling wearily, answering
    questions, sipping his mineral water. He was wearing a casual beige silk suit, another that his father had bought him a couple years ago, that everyone said was straight out