TIME: Almanac 1993/TIME Almanac 1993.iso/time/090991/0909260.000

Text File | 1992-08-28 | 3.8 KB | 82 lines

                                                                                SPORT, Page 64

Up, Up and Out of Sight!


An unheralded American soars into history, just barely overarching
a peak performance by Carl Lewis

By HOWARD G. CHUA-EOAN -- Reported by Brian Cazeneuve/Tokyo


    The record had stood unapproachably majestic for 23
years, a distance of 29 ft. 2 1/2 in., about the length of a
medium-size truck, easily traversed by a motorcycle daredevil
propelled off a ramp -- but not by unaided tendon, sinew, flesh
and blood. Only a few dared to challenge the long-jump record
-- the oldest and most awesome in track and field -- set in 1968
when the American Bob Beamon flung himself through the thin
Olympic air of high-altitude Mexico City, spanning a gap no man
had crossed before.

    Many experts thought the record a fluke, unlikely to be
repeated. At 7,347 ft. above sea level, Mexico City was perfect
for a leap into history, but just that once. The Red Sea parts
only under extremely specific cosmic circumstances. Beamon
never got close to his record again, nor did he quite figure out
how he did it. All others who tried failed. Until last week.

    No, Carl Lewis didn't do it. If anyone might have been
expected to break Beamon's record, Lewis was it. He is the king
of track and field. Earlier last week Lewis proved he could
still be the fastest human alive, when he set a new world record
of 9.86 sec. to take the 100-m gold medal at the World Track and
Field Championships in Tokyo. And even though the muggy,
sea-level Japanese capital was hardly ideal for breaking the
long-jump record, Lewis was going to try. In an astonishing
series, he turned in the greatest sequence of long jumps ever
recorded. No one had ever soared so far and so consistently over
six tries, all well past 28 ft., brushing against the record.
At one point, Lewis actually crossed Beamon's mark, going 29 ft.
2 3/4 in. But judges ruled that it had been wind aided and
didn't count. Lewis wanted the record. He often spoke as if it
were just around the corner; he stretched out for it
expectantly. But destiny would offer it to someone else.

    Limbering up in Lewis' shadow was Mike Powell, 27, an
American who had chafed under the superstar's decade-long
domination of track and field. Powell's first four tries were
less than Carolingian. "Something went wrong on every jump," he
said. But the fifth came with a veritable thunderclap. Powell
flew up against a sky heavy with humidity and threatening
summer clouds. When he came down, he felt something had
happened. "I knew it was far, and I knew it was close to Carl's.
When I looked at it, I thought it might be a world record." It
was. He had broken Beamon's unmatchable mark by a full 2 in. The
60,000 spectators at Tokyo's National Stadium were on their
feet, cheering. From the sidelines the eclipsed Lewis watched
Powell claim victory, brushed off tears and walked away.

    Back in the U.S., Beamon, who runs a youth sports program
in Florida, expressed surprise. Said he: "I was thrown off by
not hearing the other name -- Carl Lewis, the most logical
person who would either duplicate or surpass the performance."
Only a Beamon-busting jump could have overshadowed Lewis'
achievements last week. At 30, an age when athletes are often
limping into retirement, Lewis is still capable of setting new
records, as the 100-m dash proved. After winning the race, he
said, "The great thing was, the old man was able to pull it
out."

    For Lewis, however, the long-jump record is now even
farther away -- with a competitor who will match landings with
him at every track meet. "Mike had the one jump," Lewis said
last week. So Lewis will go on working to get his jump. Even if
he has to part the Red Sea to do it.