sidelines
Emerald sports magazine
weanesaay, May 15, 1984 |
May 8. The
Soviet Union
shouts to the
world that it is
pulling out of the
1984 Olympic
Games in Los
Angeles. ■
In Washington, J
D.C., Pres. Ronald N
Reagan con- j
templates his rep
ly. In Los Angeles,
Olympic officials 1
hastily organize a 1
plan to convince ||
the Soviets '%
otherwise.
One thousand miles
north of the smoggy
city, 25-year-old
Alberto Salazar sits in
his South Eugene-area
home and anwers the phone.
• • •
“I probably did about 10
interviews by noon that day. After
awhile I’d done as many as I wanted
to, so I just hung up the phone. ” —
Alberto Salazar
It’s impossible to be Mr.
Anonymous if your name is Alberto
Salazar. He is the man who told
everyone he’d set a world record
before he ran the New York
Marathon in 1981 — and succeeded
in 2:08:13. Reportedly, he received
$18,000 when he won New York a
year later. Supposedly, the powers
that be were willing to give him
$60,000 to run in the Los Angeles
Marathon in May 1983.
He is the American record holder
at 5,000 and 10,000 meters. He is
supremely confident, painfully
By Doug Levy
Photos by Mark Pynes
honest. He is, perhaps, the most
magnificent all-purpose distance
runner this world has seen. Privacy
is a myth.
“It,” says Salazar, referring to the
constant drain of media attention,
“can be an aggravation at times, but
ALBERTO!
it’s not anything which I think is
going to distract from one’s
running.”
Again, the conversation turns to
the Russian pullout. “We got one
call at 5:30 a.m., and another
reporter called and was real abusive
and swore on the phone because I
wasn’t doing interviews. You just
get to the point where you have to
say no. So when the 11th guy calls, I
say no, not because I have anything
against the guy, but because I’m
sick and tired of talking about it.”
There is, of course, reason for the
media to badger Salazar. From the
time he entered Oregon in 1976 to
the time he won his first marathon
in 1980 to the time he set two
American records in the summer of
1982, he has embraced distance
running headlines.
Nobody knew any of that when
Salazar was nine. He’d called
running “stupid” after his first
attempt. Nobody knew any of that
when he joined the Greater Boston
Track Club at age 15 — he was only
a skinny kid.
There was something inside that
skinny kid. Maybe Bill Rodgers did
call him “The Rookie,” and maybe
lots of the others ran better
workouts.
“He was just a scrawny kid back
then, but Billy Squires (the first
coach of the Greater Boston Track
Club) said he’d be the best
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