The Front Runner

willing to put them up against anybody."
    "You going in for women's lib?" somebody else cracked in a gravelly voice.
    Everybody howled with laughter. There was, or so I thought, an undertone of malice in this laughter. I told myself that I was becoming a paranoid, and that this wouldn't do.
    When the laughter died, I smiled my best, small, Parris Island smile and said, "I'm for equal rights for everybody. Any other questions?"
    A silence that got longer and longer. Smoke curled up from cigarettes held in strong, thick fingers.
    Finally, from the back of the room, the reporter from the Daily News said, "What about Billy Sive?"
    The silence again. Heads turned toward the reporter, then back to me. Somehow, the way the question was phrased, it could mean anything. I knew he'd done
    it deliberately. Under ordinary circumstances, a good reporter doesn't ask such a goddamn vague question.
    "What do you want to know?" I said.
    "Well, what about his progress?"
    "Billy's coming along fine." It took all my self-control to keep my voice steady. "He's on the same type of program that he's been on since he came to Prescott. I thought this high-mileage stuff was crazy for him, and I've got him doing 100-110 miles a week, with emphasis on quality and strength-building. This program was what gave him all his success in Europe. If he continues to develop the way he has, we're hopeful that he'll make the Olympic team."
    Another voice chimed in. "What about Vince Matti and Jacques LaFont?" Was this a conspiracy?
    "Both of them have had setbacks," I said. "Vince, as you know, is very injury-prone. He injured his knee again about a week ago. Jacques is having some hamstring problems. If I can keep Vince in one piece till the Olympics, then we're going to have a very strong contender in the 1,500. The same goes for Jacques in the 800 meter."
    When I sat down again, I actually felt a little weak in the legs.
    Men were leaving already. Empty tables were littered with cigarette ashes, mimeographed literature, dishes with tomato sauce on them, glasses with melting ice cubes in them, half-full coffee cups. Bruce and Aldo looked very gloomy.
    I sipped at the last of my 7-Up, which had gone warm and flat while I was up at the mike. "They were kinda hostile," I said.
    Bruce and Aldo looked at each other. Finally Aldo said, "Look, Harlan, are you a total innocent or what?"
    "Huh?" I said.
    "Listen," said Aldo, "I know you're a brave guy, and it took guts to get up there and face them. But you oughta know there's only so far you can go."
    I was getting a little irritated. "I don't know what the hell you're talking about. Sooner or later I have to be able to lead a normal life. If I can't get up there
    and talk about my team, I might as well chuck it all and go live on a desert island."
    "You must be completely naive," said Aldo. "Do you want me to fill you in? Can I be totally frank?"
    "Sure," I said.
    "If you go to that desert island," said Aldo, looking me straight in the eyes, "you'll be taking Billy Sive with you. Won't you?"
    He put it just like that, brutally. Bruce heaved a heavy, gloomy sigh.
    For a moment I thought I was going to lose my temper and break one of those marble busts in half over Aldo's bald head.
    "What if I did?" I said. "I don't think it's anybody's business."
    "You're wrong," said Aldo. "It's everybody's business, whether you like it or not. They're making it their business, is why. I can't think of anything in track right now that would get people more stirred up. The very idea touches a big, fat, throbbing nerve."
    "All right, it's their business. So what? What does it have to do with running?"
    "It has everything to do with that," said Aldo vehemently. "Harlan, you and Billy are damn fools. I'm sorry to put it that way, but it's the truth. I admire you both, so you've got to know the truth. You've destroyed Billy's chances of going to Montreal." He made an Italian-type cutting gesture with his hands. "Finito."
    "Who's going to stop him?" I said.
    "At the last USOC executive meeting, that was all they talked about. The Billy Sive case, they call it. At the last met AAU meeting, ditto. I heard certain people say it with my own ears. There's no way that boy is going to Montreal. There's no way Matti or LaFont are going either. These guys are going to do everything they can to stop them."
    "They're so greedy for medals," I said. "They'd pimp their own grandmother for gold medals."
    "Not where something like this is