Perhaps if we look at how far in the depths of despair and suffering some of the world’s greatest athletes have been, then perhaps we will be able to draw strength and renewal and see that our plight isn’t so bad, or at the very least, will get better.
Skater Oksana Baiul never knew her father. Her mother died of cancer when she was only thirteen. Her grandparents, with whom she lived, also died soon after, and her coach of nine years migrated to Canada, leaving her totally alone in the Ukraine.
Fortunately, she was adopted by 1992 Albertville gold medallist Viktor Petrenko, and coached by his mother-in-law, Galina Zmieskaya. By 1994, she was skating in the Lillehammer Games, within striking distance of the leader, Nancy Kerrigan, whose own controversy overshadowed Baiul’s tragic life.
The day before the final, she collided with another skater, and sustained injuries to her back and leg, the latter requiring stitches. Receiving permission to painkilling injections, she bravely fought on. At the end of it all, she was tied with Kerrigan. However, since the rules stated that the skater who received the higher artistic score would prevail, Baiul won her Olympic gold medal by one-tenth of a point on one judge’s scorecard. Her final reward: for the first time, the Ukrainian national anthem was played in the Olympic Games.
The United States’ speed skater Dan Jansen owns the most inspiring comeback in the annals of the Winter Olympic. In the 1984 Sarajevo Olympics, the first-timer was happy to place fourth in the men’s 500 meters, only thirty-six hundredths of a second behind the gold medallist. Upon coming home, though, the eighteen-year old was criticized for returning without a medal.
In 1988 in Calgary, Canada, he was favored in both the 500 and 1,000 meters. But that same day, his beloved sister Jane was dying of leukemia. He fell in both races, sprawling his medal hopes on the ice.
Four years later in Albertville, disaster struck again. Jansen landed fourth in the 500 meters and a horrendous 26th in the 1,000 meters.
When the Winter Olympic cycle was changed to alternate with the Summer Games, Jansen would have one last chance just two years later, in 1994. By now, his credentials were massive. He was the 500 meters world record holder, and the only man to have ever skated the distance in under 36 seconds, akin to breaking the four-minute mile for the first time.
Six years to the day after his sister died, Dan Jansen got off to a fabulous start. Then, he slipped, again, and finished in eighth place. The shock to his family was almost unbearable.
Four days later, he had the only remaining opportunity left, the 1,000-meter final. But he wasn’t feeling good about his chances, complaining that his skates weren’t gripping the ice well. He just hoped it would be over soon.
But fate proved wiser. Jansen skated the greatest race of his career, clinching the gold medal by shattering the world record by eleven hundredths of a second. Dan Jansen redeemed himself long after lesser men would have given up.
There was one special moment in the 1968 Mexico Olympics when finishing last was a glory in itself. The marathon is always the climax of any Olympic event. Ethiopia’s Abebe Bikila, who had become his country’s first athletic to win an Olympic gold medal, was trying to make it three in a row. Unfortunately, after a strong start, Bikila was injured. Nevertheless, he inspired his teammate Mamo Wolde to take home the ultimate prize.
But that was not where the story would end. More than an hour later, with just a thin crowd of a few thousand spectators remaining, the roar of motorcycles, flash of lights and shriek of whistles sent a wave of surprise through the crowd and among the media.
Into the stadium hobbled John Stephen Akhwari of Tanzania, with his right leg bloody and bandaged. In obvious agony, Akhwari limped through his final lap around the track, as the audience started to applaud, first in smatterings, then in a growing, thunderous roar.
One columnist re-wrote the lead to his story thus "Today we have seen a young African runner who symbolizes the finest in the human spirit… a performance that elevates sport out of the category of grown men playing at games… a performance that gives meaning to the word courage…"
When asked why he endured such suffering even when there was no way he could win, Akhwari was puzzled at the very question. He replied "I don’t think you understand. My country did not send me to Mexico City to start the race. They sent me to finish the race."
Finish the race.