TIME: Almanac 1995

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<text id=92TT1684> <title> July 27, 1992: Decathlon:Dave on His Own </title> <history> TIME--The Weekly Newsmagazine--1992 July 27, 1992 The Democrats' New Generation </history> <article> <source>Time Magazine</source> <hdr> OLYMPICS, Page 62 1992 SUMMER GAMES DECATHLON: Dave on His Own </hdr><body> He grew up running from the cops. Now, at 29, Dave Johnson may outpoint everyone in the Olympic decathlon. By SALLY B. DONNELLY/AZUSA This was not the way the script was supposed to turn out. Dave Johnson and Dan O'Brien, the rival U.S. decathlon stars who have been battling for three years to see who would capture the "world's greatest athlete" laurels in Barcelona, last week met on a rain-soaked track at Azusa Pacific University outside Los Angeles to film a hastily rewritten Reebok shoe ad. As they waited for the cameras to roll, their conversation remained on emotionally safe subjects like new golf clubs. There was no discussion of O'Brien's memorable miss in the pole vault at the U.S. Olympic trials a fortnight earlier, which had unexpectedly eliminated him from the Barcelona competition, or of Johnson's record-setting performance, which had dramatically turned him into the odds-on favorite for the gold. For the past year, Johnson had been focusing on catching up to the favored O'Brien at the trials and beating him at the Olympics. "He trained like a maniac to beat Dan," says Johnson's coach, Terry Franson. Johnson's emotional response to O'Brien's inexplicable miss -- shock at first, and then a bear hug of support -- reflected Dave's conflicted feelings. On the one hand, O'Brien no longer stood between Johnson and the gold medal. On the other, the competition would somehow be diminished by his friendly rival's self-demolition. Johnson's success came as a surprise to both the track community and the outside world. Some observers had openly wondered why Reebok, in its much publicized $25 million advertising campaign, had even paired O'Brien with Johnson. A knee injury and Johnson's withdrawal from the world championships last fall seemed to signal his decline. No matter. Reebok needed a foil for its sure thing, O'Brien. But as a 1988 Olympic veteran, the 29-year-old Johnson had battle-tested nerves. O'Brien did not. "I've walked this road for a decade," explains Johnson. "I expect what comes along." Bruce Jenner, the 1976 decathlon gold medalist and the last of 10 Americans to win the event at the Olympics, concurs. "What makes Dave Johnson stand out is that he knows how to win," says Jenner. "That is crucial. You've got to be the best you can be on that given day -- and know it." That Johnson would even be competing in Barcelona came as a surprise to certain law-enforcement types in Missoula, Mont., where he grew up. Johnson and his friends seemed in training merely to become hoodlums. Johnson half-jokingly explains that his early running from police officers and wrestling with other boys kept him in shape. "He's still got a wild side, a sharp edge," says Franson. "He's a committed risk taker, which is just what you need when a competition comes down to the crunch." Although Johnson made a local all-star baseball team as a pitcher, he continued to put much more energy into such nighttime activities as breaking into the warehouse of a local beer distributor. When the mill where his father worked closed, forcing a family move to Oregon, Johnson chose to reinvent himself. He talked his way onto the football team at Crescent Valley High, and when track season rolled around, he tried a few events. Johnson was introduced to Evangelical Christianity by a fellow football player. "Once Dave got involved in athletics," his mother Caroline told a reporter, "I noticed a big change. He became a different person." In 1984 Johnson headed south to enroll in Azusa Pacific University. There he developed his motivating conviction that he could be the best. "He told me that first year he could score with the best in the country," recalls Franson, who coached Olympic athletes in 1976, 1984 and 1988. "I thought that was crazy then, but a key to Dave's winning record is that he has always been able to visualize success. He has continued to stun everyone, me included." At Azusa, Johnson's legendary workhorse regimen -- which involves up to eight hours of training each day, including multiple runs into the nearby mountains -- made him one of the most consistent decathletes in the world. Although he lacks the spectacular style and speed of some other decathletes, he developed into a second-day wonder. When most other athletes begin to tire in the last two events, the javelin and the 1,500-m race, Johnson has just hit his stride. In the past three months alone, Johnson has broken the world's second-day point-total record twice. The casual family atmosphere at Azusa also gives Johnson peace of mind in the face of the twin pressures of training and public appearances. He is a regular at the school cafeteria, where he eats the meat-and-potatoes offerings. Last week he gave a pep talk to a group of 200 wide-eyed kids in which he described his own life as an example that if they worked hard enough, success was possible. After that, he met with the staff and faculty of Azusa and asked for their prayers that "I not get caught up in all this hype." Coach Franson tries to make sure that does not happen, chiding his superstar every now and then for trying to park his huge black pickup truck in a restricted parking space. Franson also administers regular doses of perspective. "Athletics is kind of silly when you think about it," he says. "It's a question of who can run around a track faster." But Franson takes track extremely seriously; the soft-spoken coach has transformed his tiny college into a sports powerhouse. This year, besides Johnson, five of Franson's athletes will be competing in Barcelona. Johnson hopes his success will allow him to reach people, like victims of the L.A. riots, who might not listen to a nonathlete. "I felt a little part of me die when all that was happening," Johnson says of the riots. "But if -- uh, when I come back here with a gold medal, maybe I can provide a positive impact for someone." But even positive-thinking, clean-living Dave Johnson knows there is a gap between aiming for the gold and grasping it. His erstwhile rival O'Brien will be in Barcelona, not to inspire Johnson to greater performances but to comment on his results from a broadcasters' booth. Nor will Johnson be competing in a vacuum; there are other decathletes who have a solid shot at the top. Canadian Mike Smith, who finished second to O'Brien in last year's world championships, is the prime candidate. France's Christian Plaziat and Czechoslovakia's Robert Zmelik are also potential contenders. Although O'Brien will not be down on the track, he intends to send a pointed message to his rivals, Johnson included. Just before the Olympic decathlon, O'Brien will compete in a meet in Stockholm. The idea O'Brien has involves clearing his opening height in the pole vault. That done, he plans to put up a score that no competitor could top at the Olympics. If Dan sets a new world record, it will still be a small consolation. Dan can settle nothing in Barcelona. Dave can grab the gold. </body></article> </text>