The 1984 Los Angeles Olympics was all about one individual athlete — Carl Lewis. What the Americans, nay, the sporting fraternity across the globe wanted to see was the emergence of another great athlete whose deeds matched that of the immortal Jesse Owens. If Owens performed what many, including the imperious Hitler, thought would amount to stretching the limits of human endurance, Carl Lewis demonstrated 48 years later that the human spirit and endeavour has no kno wn frontiers. Performing under the excruciating pressure of expectations, the tall, lissom and fantastically chiselled Carl Lewis (born July 1, 1961) carved a niche for himself as an outstanding competitor. He would later be declared as the Sportsman of the Century.
Carl Lewis’ greatness cannot be measured by the statistics or even by the number of records he created. He was something more than a gifted human being who confronted the challenges of competition with hard work and the spirit to conquer areas of excellence. An interesting piece of statistics, however, is that he won 10 Olympic gold medals, spread over four Games (1984, 1988, 1992 and 1996) and an equal number in the World Championships.
But these figures are cold statistics that project only a fragment of Carl’s competence and class. Why his medals at the Los Angeles Games were more significant than the next three at Seoul (he won the 100 metres after Ben Johnson was disqualified for drug use), Barcelona and Atlanta, was that he became the first American on home soil to equal the feat of Jesse Owens.
Apart from sprinting, 100, 200 and short relay, which he anchored many times with rare majesty, Lewis excelled as a superb long jumper. For about a decade, he was unconquered.
He had a streak of 65 victories, which was broken only by a remarkable jump by Mike Powell. He nevertheless walked out in a blaze of glory laced with high emotions after winning the gold at Atlanta in 1996.
In a career that spanned nearly 17 years from 1979, Carl Lewis ruled the world of competitive athletics like a monarch, even though doubts were raised if he too was guilty of doping.
The sobriquet, ‘The King’ never fitted any other athlete more. If anything, he was the king of the track and the pit as long as he proclaimed the enthusiasm, energy and endeavour to obliterate time and distance.
Whether future Olympics will see another Carl Lewis is a million dollar question.
S. Thyagarajan
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