GANNETT NEWS SERVICE MULTIMEDIA                                                                    Olympics home | E-mail feedback

Tuesday, August 24

El Guerrouj exorcises ghosts in golden moment

ATHENS, Greece - Demons? You want demons? Take all of Phil Mickelson's Major-free years, multiply them by John Elway's ring-free years, and add in Dan Jansen's gold-free Olympics for good measure, and you have an approximate measure of the burdens weighing down Hicham El Guerrouj as he headed for home Tuesday night, chased by a Kenyan and a much faster ghost.

Failure. Nothing gains on you like failure. El Guerrouj wasn't being run down by Bernard Lagat in the 1,500 meters, but by the haunts of Olympic disasters in Atlanta and then in Sydney, when a Moroccan journalist rose from his plastic press conference throne to ask the following question:

``How do you explain your shame to 30 million Moroccans?''

El Guerrouj said his people needed to trust him, and then dissolved into a public puddle of tears.

Shame? Nobody ever asks American runner-ups to address the shame they bring to their homeland. The White House doesn't place calls to the losing locker room, either, not the way King Hassan II called El Guerrouj on his cell in the Atlanta stadium tunnel eight years back.

El Guerrouj was about to pass Noureddine Morceli entering the bell lap when Morceli's heel hit the Moroccan's knee, and El Guerrouj went down in a big Mary Decker Slaney heap. ``For the Moroccan people, you are the Olympic champion,'' the king told the last-place finisher. ``There will be other Olympics; you will win again. Do not feel under pressure.''

Pressure? El Guerrouj had won 28 straight finals heading into Sydney, and he cried before that race because he could not manage the pressure. He cried because he had risen every day to a framed photo showing him sobbing in Atlanta, and because he was worried he might tumble again.

He didn't tumble. He got caught from behind by a Kenyan, Noah Ngeny. El Guerrouj lost by 25 hundredths of a second, and then, of course, he had to answer for his shame.

So what do you suspect he was thinking when another Kenyan, Lagat, was running him down in Athens? What do you believe was going through El Guerrouj's mind when he already realized that this might be his last dance, that his 30-something legs wouldn't be favored in Beijing, and that an eighth-place finish in Rome had hinted at the beginnings of a decline.

``Thirty million Moroccans were praying for him today,'' said Nawal El Moutawakel, an IOC member who won Morocco's first Olympic gold medal - in the 400 hurdles in Los Angeles.

Thirty million people weren't praying for second place.

``We in Morocco are now used to first place,'' El Moutawakel said. ``So even if he gets second, we are not happy.''

El Guerrouj is the greatest of the great - the likes of Sebastian Coe and Roger Bannister have conceded as much. They are awed by his effortless style, his efficient motion. In an age when world records come and go every half hour, and when performance-enhancing drugs are forever used to set and shatter them, El Guerrouj's world record of 3:26.00 is more than six years old.

He has dominated for eight years. He has run seven of history's 10 fastest times. He has won four straight world titles. So big El Guerrouj became in Morocco, the king once sent his private jet to the runner's home to fly him off to hemorrhoid surgery.

El Guerrouj had a much bigger problem than hemorrhoids Tuesday night. He had Lagat charging with eyeballs bulging, veins popping and necklace flapping. ``It felt like an avalanche,'' El Guerrouj said.

How do you suppose it felt when Lagat passed him with some 80 meters to go? Passed him by a nose, nothing more. El Guerrouj could've let it all go right there. He could've surrendered to the fates and the gods and everything else Olympic that appeared to be conspiring against him for the sake of old times.

But he pulled back ahead within a blink of an eye. Never has an athlete been more challenged, and never has one been more willing to answer that challenge.

El Guerrouj broke into a smile eight meters before the finish line, Lagat just behind his right shoulder. The Moroccan crossed the line in a time of 3:34.18, 12 hundredths of a second ahead of Lagat.

El Guerrouj buried his face in his hands, and dropped to his knees. He kissed the track. Lagat dropped down to join him, to congratulate his friend on a legendary career suddenly made complete. Adil Kaouch tried and failed to lift his countryman from the track, and El Guerrouj fell flat on his back and cried some more.

He wiped his eyes with a Moroccan flag. He did a victory lap with that flag as a cape, stopping to kiss his two-month-old daughter, Hiba, in the crowd, and then to dance to the Greek music playing on the speakers.

Nothing would stop him on this day, not even an earthquake in Athens.

``I did not win because I gave 100 percent and El Guerrouj gave 101 percent,'' Lagat said. ``I had nothing left. I came on strong, and he was stronger today. I'm really, really happy for him. This is what he wanted, and he wanted it real bad. ...This was everything he was working for.''

This was everything he needed. When crossing the finish line, ``the first thing I thought about was Sydney,'' El Guerrouj said. ``When (Ngeny) was coming up (in Sydney), I didn't have the energy to start up again and kick anymore. Tonight, with Lagat, thank God I had the energy.

``I simply was not going to lose. Four years ago, I cried tears of sadness. Today, I cry tears of joy. I'm living a moment of glory.''

A moment of redemption, too. There would be no press conference questions about shame. No tears of defeat. No pictures of devastation to be framed for the bedroom wall.

``He accomplished a great dream,'' El Moutawakel said. ``He had almost everything, every single record and every single title. But this was missing. ... Now it's wild in Morocco.''

El Guerrouj said he was happy for his friends, his family and his king. He didn't need to say he was happy for himself.

``It is finally complete,'' the Olympic champ declared.

This time failure didn't catch him at the wire. This time the greatest of the great let the ghosts wear silver and bronze.

ADVERTISEMENT