O’Brien Can’t Expect To Win Over This Group

They sat stiffly on straight-backed chairs in a fancy downtown ballroom, all dressed in white polo shirts, brought together by a common legacy and a credit-card company’s largesse.

The board of trustees of World’s Greatest Athlete, Inc.

On the far right - appropriately, yes - Bob Mathias, who vaulted from the decathlon to Congress. Next to him, Milt Campbell, a motivational presence and not just a motivation speaker. Then Rafer Johnson, the man at Bobby Kennedy’s side when a madman fired his gun. Bill Toomey, gray, balding, bespectacled - looking more like the English teacher he once was. Bruce Jenner, the glib pitchman, who has crafted a career out of a single moment.

And Moscow, Idaho’s Dan O’Brien.

“Well, Dan,” said Jenner, extending a hand, “you made it, big guy.”

They are the living American Olympic decathlon champions, and they’ve been waiting - not altogether patiently - for new blood.

“There’s three things Americans always want,” said Campbell. “The heavyweight champion, the world’s fastest human and the world’s greatest athlete.”

Happy, America?

Theirs is a curious, unique fraternity. You don’t see Carl Lewis and Bob Hayes shmoozing at fastest-human reunions - and as for heavyweight champs, well, Joe Frazier said he wished Muhammad Ali would have set himself on fire with the Olympic torch.

Still smokin’, old Joe.

But the decathlon is higher ground, something O’Brien realized when he saw Michael Johnson blazing to his world record the other night - as O’Brien waited to bundle up in a flag of his own.

“Michael’s at war out there,” said O’Brien, when asked if Johnson’s run had been a motivation. “He doesn’t have to look at those guys. In the decathlon, you’re out there together for hours and hours - talking, sharing the pain. It’s not the same killer outlook.”

So when Visa picked the decathlon as its Olympic billboard eight years ago, it did so with more class than crass. The old masters were recruited for counsel and inspiration. Heritage was made a priority.

“The only book in my school library on the Olympics had Bob Mathias’ picture in it and the fact that he was 17 years old,” recalled Toomey, the 1968 Olympic champion. “If you’re 17 years old yourself sitting in a library and can’t get a date, the next thing you want to do is be a hero.”

But these days, Shaquille O’Neal has to ask if his Dream Team coach, Lenny Wilkens, ever played in the NBA. History must be taught, still. O’Brien has learned.

“The thing you guys showed me more than anything is that you’re men, you’re not Supermen,” O’Brien said. “You don’t have to be made of titanium to get this job done. You can be a real person as well. It’s an honor to join a group like this.”

Better wear your armor, though.

“In our minds, we’re all the best,” said Mathias. “I could beat everybody in this room. And if I handed the microphone to these guys, they’d say the same thing.”

Indeed, as chummy as this club is, there’s an edge to it, too - sometimes not-so-privately sharpened, unfortunately, at O’Brien’s expense. Jenner, for some reason, has been especially critical.

“Dan will be remembered as a great athlete who left a little bit on the table,” said Jenner, ignoring for the moment that the table is still set. “He had the potential to hit the big one, but never quite did. I thought he’d go over 9,000 points, but now that he’s 30 years old, I don’t think he will. And I don’t think Dan does, either.”

Even Campbell, who has grown the closest to O’Brien, suggested that, “He should have treated the decathlon the way I did, like it’s life or death.”

Hmm. Campbell competed in exactly five decathlons in his life; O’Brien has now done 27. Who gave himself up for his love? As for Jenner, well, he may have fulfilled his potential, but only his conscience knows if he did it without chemical shortcuts.

And it’s not as if O’Brien doesn’t acknowledge unfinished business.

“I probably won’t be finished with the sport until I’ve gotten everything out of it that I can,” he said, “and that’s 9,000 points.”

But the lesson learned in 1992 was that the first business to finish was winning gold. So complete had the stripping of O’Brien’s presumption become that he didn’t even bring his dress sweats to the track on Thursday night. Instead, he borrowed Michael Johnson’s top and fellow decathlete Chris Huffins’ pants for the medal ceremony.

If he’s critical in one breath, Campbell has the grace to be complimentary in the next. His fondness for O’Brien is genuine.

“Dan has had more challenges, maybe, than the rest of us,” he said, speaking to O’Brien’s well-chronicled troubles. “But he’s developed a great knack to overcome - and that’s what the decathlon is all about. It’s about overcoming pressures and rising to the top. And Dan has handled it better than anybody else in the world has ever handled it.”

Making him, for the moment, chairman of the board. , DataTimes ILLUSTRATION: Color Photo

The following fields overflowed: CREDIT = John Blanchette The Spokesman-Review