The Front Runner

than they did.
    In amateur atheletics, officialdom has an almost medieval power over the athletes. By "officialdom" I mean the various bodies that govern U. S. athletics. My three boys were presently under control of the National Collegiate Athletic Association (NCAA), which runs college sports. When they graduated, they would pass to the control of the Amateur Athletic Union (AAU), which directs most noncollegiate competition. There are other, smaller bodies, but the AAU is the giant, and controls access to international competition. Finally, there is the 300-member U. S. Olympic Committee, which cooperates with the AAU in selecting and preparing the American Olympic team every four years. These three powerful organizations were going to be the focus of our struggle.
    Officialdom does not hesitate to use its power if it feels that an athlete or a coach has stepped out of line. The all-time example is the way the AAU treated Jesse Owens after he won four gold medals for the U.S. in the 1936 Olympics. The AAU wanted to show Owens off in post-Olympic meets in Europe, but Owens said he wanted to go home and see his wife and children— he was overtrained and exhausted. The AAU's reaction
    to this human situation was to punish the great athlete by revoking his amateur status, thus barring him from all further competition.
    Today, forty years after the Owens tragedy, the power of officialdom is still that strong. In recent years, amateur athletes have started to fight this power, and to talk a lot about what they call "athletes' rights." They feel that too many officials were too interested in controlling and punishing athletes, and not interested enough in benefiting them and in recognizing their real human needs. They are forcing officials to rethink old attitudes, to liberalize old and irksome rules.
    As a former runner, and as a fledgling liberal, I was strongly inclined to side with the athletes. There are, of course, some fine fair-minded people in all three of these organizations, who give unstintingly of their time and energy for the sport, and who join with the athletes in fighting for change. But all three organizations still harbor too many fanatic and/or senile men and women who form a dangerous power bloc. As in Owens's day, they feel that athletes should be wind-tip dolls who run record times and don't talk back, and they are fighting the athletes' rights movement every step of the way.
    "For instance," I said, "when people hassled Marty Liquori because he partied and had a beer or two. It didn't matter to them that Marty could beat Jim Ryun every time the two of them met. They were ready to throw Marty's best performances in the garbage can because he didn't fit their old-fashioned idea of what a runner is."
    The three boys were nodding.
    "And as far as the personal morality of athletes goes," I said, "these old men, their idea of total degeneracy was when those two guys on the New York Yankees swapped wives."
    We all laughed a little, grimly.
    "So," I said, "now we're going to have a gay coach with three gay runners. We are going to be out in full view, with 'gay is beautiful' written across our foreheads in letters of fire. And the conservative element in track is not going to like that at all."
    They were silent again. Joe was smoking a cigarette, gazing into the Ire. Joe and I had already had this same discussion, and I knew he wasn't afraid.
    My Irish setter, Jim, came wagging into the room and curled up among the three boys, licking Vince's hand.
    "I also think that they will avoid talking about homosexuality, if possible," I said. "It just scares them too much. So what they will do is try to trip us up with the rule book. If you put an extra spike on your shoes, and they catch you, you're disqualified, whether you're gay or straight. Do you follow me?"
    They were all nodding. I tossed them three copies of the AAU handbook.
    "If you've read it before, read it again. Learn it by heart. Some of the rules are good, and some of them are stupid, but this is what they'll hit us with, if they can."
    They flipped through the books, very soberly.
    I was talking bluntly now, jabbing the air with my finger. "At all times, we are going to conduct ourselves with dignity. We are not going to give them any extra grounds for criticism. Like, Vince, the time you got disqualified for warming up during the national anthem. I agree that it's stupid to make an athlete stand around and get cold during the anthem, but the