A Man at Peace

Phelps, the most decorated Olympian ever, reveals a new relaxed persona... The edge is gone. The untouchable, unparalleled competitor, the man who broke spirits with such crushing excellence that gold always seemed like a foregone conclusion. He won races while he was still behind the blocks with that thousand yard stare. And he could never, ever be caught from behind.

That man is gone now and it's both refreshing and disconcerting. We all knew this was his last meet, but I don't think anyone expected it to be this way. Not just because we couldn't conceive of Phelps losing - the 200 fly of all things! - but because he truly seems fine with everything.

He's a man at peace, it seems. With the decisions he's made over the last four years, and with the consequences he's feeling here in London. He's fine with that. He knows he doesn't have a goddamn thing to prove to anyone. And that sense of satisfied closure appears to have made him a much nicer guy.

Now that's not to say that Phelps isn't infuriated by his out-touched silver tonight in the 200 fly. The way he lost it was eerie, a true live-by-the-sword, die-by-the-sword moment. It was Beijing's miracle 100 fly in reverse, with South Africa's Chad Le Clos playing the role of Phelps, as Phelps himself coasted into the wall just like Mike Cavic. Head up, arms reaching, momentum failing - it looked exactly the same. As did Le Clos's Phelps impersonation - a bad ass head down short stroke punch to the wall that snatched away what looked like certain gold.

Moments after seeing the scoreboard, Phelps tossed his cap, the rage at the result barely contained. He exited the pool quickly. I don't know if he went backstage and threw chairs and screamed obscenities and punched walls, maybe he did and who could blame him? But when he returned on camera with his relay mates in the men's 4 x 200 free, he was back in the zone and he got the job done.

Yet listening to the American foursome's joyful post-race banter, it was bizarre to hear what Phelps kept repeating over and over. I needed a lead. I just told these guys I needed a lead... Come again? Michael Phelps needing a lead, just to hang on to victory? This is the guy who could swim down anyone, in anything. Back in the day, he wouldn't need a lead, he would want to dive in behind, just to make it interesting. Because if you were within striking distance, you were dead.

Phelps was just being honest. France's Yannick Agnel is now the better swimmer. He would have smoked Phelps if he'd dove in a second or two behind. What's bizarre is that Phelps is fine with that. He knows it and he isn't fighting it. He's just trying to enjoy this farewell Olympic tour, come what may.

This is not a champion who can't accept when his time has come. Who can't admit that his passion has waned and now hungrier swimmers are beginning to eat him up. Truth is, he's been waiting for this time to come for quite some time.

He still has two more individual races left and they're going to be special ones. First, that showdown with Lochte in the 200 IM, and then, the rematch with Cavic in the 100 fly. He still may win them both. To win either, he'll have to go to the well one last time. We'll see what's left down there over the next four days.

Many expected this epic career to end with one more dominating scorched earth Olympic performance. But it turns out this one isn't about the medal haul.

Maybe, for the ultimate Olympian of all time, it's about remembering the Olympic creed itself:

The most important thing in the Olympic Games is not to win but to take part, just as the most important thing in life is not the triumph but the struggle. The essential thing is not to have conquered but to have fought well. 

Franklin, the Face of Swimming

Missy Franklin - There is no better ambassador... Close your eyes for a moment and try to picture the perfect avatar of swimming. He or she would be brilliantly talented for one, a gold medal threat in many events. She would be eloquent and real and warm and beloved by her teammates. She would be grounded and self aware. She would be driven not by money, but by what really matters - having fun and embracing the moment.

But most of all, she would be a fearless competitor. All those warm and fuzzies would belie her essential nature. The nature of a cut throat clutch performer.

Open your eyes and see Missy Franklin standing before you. If USA Swimming could assemble their ideal athlete, the one they'd want to hold up to the world and say this is swimming in America, this is who we are, that athlete would look exactly like Missy Franklin. If I could hold up a swimmer for my daughter and say this is what it's all about, this is a role model for you, that swimmer would also be Franklin. I am positive that I'm not the only parent to feel this way.

Sure, Phelps and Lochte remain the face of the sport for the wider world, and rightly so; Franklin still has a long way to go before she can amass their incredible accomplishments. Yet, this 17-year-old high school senior to be could give both of those guys media training. They might be a decade older, but when Missy speaks, she is far their superior. Good god, how well spoken is this girl?

But back to the water. Yesterday in London, she did something not even Phelps or Lochte have done. Her double - 200 free semifinal and just 15 minutes later the final of the 100 back - must rank among the greatest Olympic swimming achievements ever. As Rowdy Gaines pointed out in the primetime broadcast, if you're not a swimmer you cannot possibly understand how difficult that was.

The 200 free is a back-breaker of a race. It's the perfect masochistic mix of sprint and stamina. It leaves you absolutely gutted. That's why so many consider it the true standard of the sport. The best pure swimmer is the one who wins this race. In her semifinal heat, Franklin somehow stayed contained. She expended just enough energy to secure her place in the final - she grabbed the last spot, in 8th. I'm guessing she was going about 90% for the first three laps. But when she turned for home, she had to notice her spot in the final slipping away. She went to the legs hard that last 50 and did what she needed to do. But she would be needing those legs something fierce fifteen minutes later.

The 100 back is mostly legs, and Franklin had almost no time to recover. She jumped in the diving well and tried to swim it off as Ryan Lochte marched out for the final of the men's 200 free. Consider that little detail for a moment: One of the most anticipated drama-packed races of the Games was going on about fifty feet away from her, while she was trying to warm down and slow her racing heart. That's no small distraction.

Then she was back, dry behind the blocks and looking strangely relaxed and recovered. When the swimmers were told to enter the water, Franklin broke into a huge smile. You see smiles of a different sort behind the blocks all the time at the Olympics. They're forced nerves-cracking pressure-getting-to-me grins. They look painful and they say: Choke Imminent.

This was the exact opposite of that. Like everything else with Franklin, it looked totally genuine. She really is having fun out there.

Now, here's what would happen to everyone else if you were attempting this double. You would force yourself to get psyched up and over energized, and when the race went off, you would blast into it. You would over swim the first 25 meters; you would be winning, but already fading by the 50; by 75 meters the field would go by you. The announcers would be sympathetic, they'd say you just ran out of steam after that too-tough double. But it wouldn't really be that. You would fade because you didn't swim your race.

Somehow, yet again, Franklin swam within herself. She did what every coach on earth tells his swimmers to do: She swam her own race. She surfaced dead last, was still way back at 25 meters, and slowly built momentum into the wall. By 75 meters, instead of fading, Franklin was surging. It was over by then. Franklin finishes her 100 back the way Aaron Peirsol used to. Which is to say, she owns the last 15 meters of the race.

She touched in American record time, a half second drop from her lifetime best. 15 minutes after swimming 1:57.5 in a pressurized 200 free semi.

This is legendary stuff we're witnessing. A bit like watching Phelps first attempt his grueling eight-gold campaign back in Athens. It's resetting the standards of what's possible. Phelps left Athens with six gold and two bronze, setting the table for Beijing perfection four years later. Franklin will probably leave London with four gold (adding the 200 back and the next two relays), a bronze in that first relay, and may reach the podium in the 200 and 100 free too. It will be among the greatest Games ever for any female swimmer.

But of course, this 17-year-old avatar is just getting started.

Tyler the Truth Teller

Tyler Clary calls out Phelps: Makes fair points, assures destruction...  Someone was bound to say it sooner or later. May as well have been the guy with the front row seat. Did you see what Tyler Clary had to say about Michael Phelps yesterday? It came out in the not-exactly-national Press-Enterprise, billed as the source of news and information in Inland Southern California... Here's the column by Jim Alexander. It might be the source in the Valley, but safe to say in the swim universe, this site just expanded its reach. Because apparently Tyler Clary feels like playing with the piranha...

You can predict the outcry. It's already coming in. How dare he! cries the young swim fan... He's just jealous! cries the old swim mom... He's the new Mike Cavic! says the swim site... Thanks for the extra ratings boost! smiles the TV network... Let's face it, that 200 fly in London wasn't much of a story, was it? Phelps already proved he can win that one with his goggles filled with water in Beijing. This event was a gimmie gold for the great one. But now there's more, courtesy of the call-it-like-he-sees-it Mr. Clary.

(The story around the 200 fly in London was bound to go something like this: (Cue Gladiator soundtrack) This is the event where it all started, back in the year 2000, when a pubescent Michael Phelps stroked to a 5th place finish in Sydney... It was his one and only Olympic race that did not end on a podium... Actually, that's rather fine, I can hear Dan Hicks voicing it, but that's besides the point...)

Here's what Tyler Clary had to say of his time training with Phelps at Michigan:

“I saw a real lack of preparation (from) him. Basically, he was a swimmer that didn’t want to be there. They can talk about all of these goals and plans and preparation they have. I saw it. I know. It’s different. And I saw somebody that has basically been asking to get beat for the longest time.”

Check the dates in question and you'll see that this is even more inflammatory than it sounds. It's royally fucking with the whole Michael Mythology. This isn't the same old refrain of Phelps-didn't-do-shit-after-Beijing. Phelps has been admitting as much ever since his party hearty Poker & More tour of '08 and '09. No, that's old news. We get that, and more power to him for that debauched and well earned victory lap. But Phelps had already left Michigan by then. Clary is talking about before Beijing.

Tyler Clary got to Ann Arbor in the fall of 2007 - when Phelps was reputably in full 8 Gold or Bust focus mode. Except Clary claims that wasn't really the case. He was a freshman back then, and not yet a superstar. He was a comer, no question; at the '08 men's NCAA's, Clary won consols in the 400 IM and the 500 free. He swam plenty fast (3:44.1 / 4:16.8), but he wasn't even in the big final in his individual events. He was a quiet freshman looking on at the king. And by his own eye-witness estimation, at the most pivotal legend making period of all, the king wasn't putting in the work.

I'll be honest - it's not the first time I've heard this. It might be the first eye-witness account to be picked up by a reporter in the weeks before an Olympics, but it's hardly the first eye-witness account to circulate through the swimming world. These stories are out there, being spread by former teammates without apology or secret. The media gospel of MP and the daily facts of training life appear to have a few discrepancies. Some fact-checking might be required.

But do those facts really matter? They don't change the number of gold medals he's won. They will never change the fact that what Phelps did in Beijing was the single greatest performance in Olympic history. Probably for all time. Hell, the charge that he didn't put in the work of others might make it even more impressive!

Nonetheless, the grumbling has been out there for a long time, well before Beijing. There is no disputing the fact that Phelps did indeed put in the work when he was a kid, all the way through his teenage years. That much we can swear to a jury. But since Athens? Yes, Athens, not Beijing... Those many years since Greece appear to be up for dispute.

Of course, this raises the question of the verboten T-word. Talent, that cruel bitch we wish we could discount, wish we could minimize and prove how it's all really fair in the end. It's not. It's no more fair than a six foot nothing no-ups gym rat willing to do whatever it takes to play forward for the Miami Heat. Sorry, kid, Lebron doesn't need to work as hard as you either, whatever he says about his off season routine.

Seeing Tyler Clary's comments, I found myself nodding in solidarity. I used to be you, young Tyler. A masochistic give-me-anything practice fiend whose best events were also the 200 fly and 400 IM. And like you, I used to be bitter as hell at those I deemed to have more talent and a lesser work ethic. (Nice guy though he was, I'll still probably never forgive former teammate Lars Frolander at SMU - an NCAA Swimmer of the Year and eventual Olympic champion in the 100 fly in Sydney. Never saw the guy swim more than 25 yards straight of butterfly; never saw him make more than four workouts a week. Alas...)

Tyler, here's some free advice from beyond the competitive grave: You will someday realize how foolish you sound with all that talk about being the "blue collar worker" and not the talented one. Tyler, you're more gifted than I ever was, more talented than all but a tiny few swimmers who ever lived. That is true regardless of how hard you might work. You're going to wind up on an Olympic podium in a few weeks. Your own talents are absolutely other worldly. I can assure you that countless others out there are working just as hard as you are, and they will never ever sniff an Olympic berth.

Ah, screw all that retired perspective, I'm with you. Watching a once-in-a-century talent day in and day out like that, a guy who just gets the water more than any human ever has... That will get to you. It sucks.

But when you step on the blocks for the 200 fly in London, you can't do a damn thing about it.

The Negativity of Miss Muffat

The incredible back half of France's Camille Muffat... The negative split, such a connoisseur's pleasure. To come home faster than you went out, so simple, so full of intention. You can explain it to any Dry Lander and they'll get it. But not really. It takes a swimmer to truly appreciate it.

If you're into such things, you've probably already heard about the recent exploits of France's negative splitting monster, Camille Muffat. They are swims of beauty, a swimmer's version a circus trick. Swimmers love to share those silly eye-popper splits, the absurd last laps or final 100's that stretch the imagination and make us giddy in that unabashed swimmer geek way... Remember Paul Biedermann's last 50's at the World Champs in Rome back in '09? Remember the way Janet Evans finished her 400 free back in '88 in Seoul? If not, check it out HERE.

Camille Muffat doesn't remember that. She wasn't born until a year later, in October 1989. But what she's doing these days is making Janet's swims look like quaint golden oldies. Check out her summer's greatest hits:

- Back in June at the Canet round of the Mare Nostrum tour, Camille takes out her 400 free in a leisurely 2:04.4. Then she decides to start trying. Last 200: 1:58.5. Final time: 4:02.97. That would have made the U.S. Team, just a tenth back from Allison Schmitt's winning time of 4:02.8. Of contrast: Schmitt swam her race almost exactly the opposite in Omaha, going out in an aggressive 1:58.3 and limping home in 2:04.5. Amazing, yes, but it gets better...

- At the Paris Open last week, Muffat unleashed her negative splitting genius over 800 meters. Here's how she swam the 800 in Paris: First 400 - 4:18. Second 400 - 4:04. Her final time of 8:23.60 would have been 3rd at U.S. Trials, but it's clear the total time was just for play. Her back half of 4:04, that would have placed her 3rd at U.S. Trials too. Without the benefit of the dive, after warming up for eight laps, then flipping and storming home faster than any woman in history over the second half of 800 meters.

Rather impressive. An effort that you'd think would leave a girl gutted on deck, limping her way over to a long well earned warm down... Instead, Muffat hopped out, waited for the men to swim their cute 50 fly in between, then got back on the blocks five minutes later and ripped a 1:56.2 in the 200 free. More U.S. Trials comparisons: That time would have been good enough for second in the women's 200 free in Omaha, half a second faster than Missy Franklin. (1:56.2 is pretty great, especially with zero time to recover, but it's not much for Muffat; she's already been 1:54.6 in season this year...)

We'll see in a few weeks if Muffat can translate these crazy swims into complete efforts in London. Short of a sudden bout of meningitis, there doesn't seem much doubt that she will. With these performances under her belt in recent months, she has to be the clear favorite to win three individual gold medals in London, in the 200, the 400, the 800. Incidentally, something only accomplished once in Olympic history by the great Debbie Meyer back in 1968...

Which presents a fine opportunity for would-be gamblers... Because despite these insane swims, Muffat probably won't go off as the pre-race betting favorite in any event in London. In the 200, she'll have to beat Schmitt, who currently has the fastest time in the world, and Italy's Federica Pellegrini, the world record holder and defending Olympic champ. Meanwhile, in the 400 and 800, Muffat will face hometown queen Rebecca Adlington, the Brit who won both distance events four years ago in Beijing.

Don't be distracted by past performance in years gone by... Place your bets, gamblers, here's a sure thing: the 22-year-old from Nice is going to win the 200, 400, and 800 freestyles at the London Games.

There's nothing negative about those recent splits. Only promise of the gold to come...

So, You're an Olympian, Now What?

Three weeks of pride and madness before the Games...  The chosen ones have moved on. After touching the wall and confirming a dream come true, it's been a double rainbow of bliss ever since. They're in the midst of coming down from that high right about now. Time to sober up and get straight. The Olympics are just three weeks away.

What happens after you make the Team? It goes something like this:

Realize that you've made it, outpouring of unrestrained joy. Climb from water, find a microphone and a television camera shoved in your face before you've caught your breath. Try to say something halfway eloquent. Walk ten steps and find more microphones and more cameras waiting. Keep trying to say the right things. Then a strangely serious man or woman will approach with the air of a CIA spook. No worries, that's just the drug tester. Sign his clipboard, confirm that you'll report to testing when told. Buzz kicks in again, stronger this time. It's sinking in. You find your coach, your teammates waiting in the warm down pool. Hugs, tears, high fives, assorted 'fuck yeahs!'

Then there will be a medal ceremony, more interviews, autographs from throngs of young swim fans... There will be your official Outfitting. This takes longer than you might think. Olympians are given an Olympic amount of SWAG. Talk about a misnomer - this term stands for 'Stuff We All Get'. For these purposes, maybe we should change it to SOG. ('Stuff Olympians Get') In any case, there's a lot of it. It takes about three hours to get measured and outfitted for all the things you'll soon be getting as an Official Member of the Team. (Still makes you giddy to hear, doesn't it? Yes, the buzz is still pumping...)

After the meet ends, there will be a brief respite, a chance to go home for a few days, enjoy the comforts of your own bed before boarding the crazy train bound for London. It won't be relaxing, don't kid yourself. It's going to be another whirlwind of hugs and back slaps. Then you'll kiss your family and friends goodbye, and head to... Knoxville, TN. At least that's where Team USA is headed right about now. First stop on the Traveling Camp of No Distractions.

All up to date? Good, because now comes the hard part. Time to set Trials aside.

Three weeks, that's not enough time to do much. Physically, what's done is done. It's not like you're going to get in better shape over the next few weeks. Too late for those skin-deep, muscle-bound concerns. You either did the work, or you didn't. Chances are, if you've gotten this far, you've done all the work and then some. But below the surface, or to be more specific, below the skull? There is still plenty of time in there. In fact, three weeks is an eternity.

"I can't do a damn thing about their bodies," said the Olympic coach. "There's not enough time. But I might be able to help their brains a bit."

That's the coach's job at this point. This is the time when great coaches go Zen and guide those fragile yet enormous egos onto Olympic podiums. This is also the time when less-than-great coaches lucky enough to coach monster talent tend to screw up their swimmers something fierce. This happens every time, at every Games. I don't need to name names. Think back...

Before the U.S. Trials, one top coach emailed me and made a very wise observation. He pointed out that you will never see more over-coaching at any meet than at the Olympic Trials. It's when coaches are as nervous as their athletes and they just try to do too much. They won't stop talking, won't stop tinkering with strokes, won't stop trying to get everything exactly precisely perfect. Too much of that and your athletes feel it. They feel restricted, start second-guessing themselves. We know where that leads.

I'd go one step further with this coach's assessment: You'll never see more over-coaching than in the period between the Trials and the Olympics. Most countries have had months to adjust to that heady making-the-Team high. In the U.S., for myriad reasons (some good, some questionable), the Trials are pressed right up against the windshield of the Games. This leaves zero room for error.

These are high stakes and heavy highs we're talking about. The sort of things that crack fragile minds in a million pieces... Sure, there's pressure at the Super Bowl, the Finals, the World Series, whatever big time annual sporting circus you want to name. But these events come around every year. There's always next year. Not four years later. In every other case, you have a whole game, a crew of teammates, days or hours over a course or a court... Enough room to make mistakes and overcome. That's not the case with Olympic swimming, where four years of life can come down to twenty-one seconds on stage.

This makes for some fabulous theater for those watching from the sidelines. It can also make these Olympians one stiff breeze from a straight jacket in the weeks leading up to it.

Sometimes the real drama is off stage in those times in between, at tucked away training camps, when newly minted Olympians come down off the Trials high.

How Sweet the Sound

The Comeback of Anthony Ervin It was a long shot. The sort of thing that almost always ends badly, no matter the lessons learned spin in the aftermath of defeat. The hunger returns, the training resumes, the dreams of glory are back. Then they learn, the hard way, that it’s been too long. You’re not so young anymore. You’re no longer fast enough.

Except not this time.

This time, after a decade away, Anthony Ervin stepped on the blocks in the men’s 50 free and blistered onto the Olympic Team at age 31. A dozen years removed from the last time he was on this stage, back in 2000. Ervin is faster now than he was back then, when he was a 19-year-old wunderkind tying Gary Hall, Jr. for gold in Sydney.

The years in between? An unguided tour through Dante’s Inferno. Followed by a pass through Purgatory. And now, back to Paradise…

Before I continue, this program note: There is absolutely no objectivity here. For parts of those lost years, Ervin worked for my school, Imagine Swimming. Even at his most lost – and that was evident to all who knew him then – he was always great with the kids. They identified with him in that natural instinctual way of children. Kids have a hound dog’s sense for smelling a fake. In Ervin, they smelled some truth. Also some danger, which kids like too.

As his comeback flashed promise with big in-season swims this winter, a mutual friend approached my partner Lars and I with an idea: Why doesn’t Imagine sponsor him? Unlike all the others, this comeback of his really seemed to be shaping up. Brilliant idea, thought Lars and I. We got on the phone with Tony and hashed out an agreement.

Perhaps it’s unprofessional of me to be writing about a guy we quite literally bet on. Talk about bias. So be it. His story is just too good. A true Hero’s Quest. Joseph Campbell would have loved it.

As sports fans, we love domination, sure. There’s nothing like watching sheer outsized superhuman greatness. Phelps and Lochte, those are our versions of Lebron and Durant. It’s impossible to relate, and so we worship.

But there’s nothing we love more than the comeback story. The all-too-human damaged star that somehow finds his way back. Guys like Andre Agassi and Josh Hamilton… and Anthony Ervin. They have superhuman athletic gifts too, but they’ve also succumbed to many dark impulses. When they come out the other side, they’re the ones embraced in a way those icons never are.

Throughout the weekend, Tony’s many friends and fans were sharing all-time Tony stories. There are many. One involves a wedding dress, running make-up, and an angry mob… Really. But the Tony story that I’ve always remembered most is one of those quiet, confused moments.

After he left New York and Imagine and headed back to Berkeley, Tony would reappear unannounced on deck from time to time. Once, I think it was back in early 2009 or so, he appeared on a pool deck in TriBeCa looking his most un-Olympian.

“Are you lost?” I asked him, not so nicely.

“Casey, you have no idea,” he said.

He didn’t smile, showed no spark at all. Then, a few Imagine kids started to show up and the old Ervin energy reappeared for them right on cue.

That magnetic energy was on full display this week in Omaha. If you knew him in those lost years, the contrast was striking. Like the breath of life was breathed back into a body after years of gasping and wandering without oxygen.

In his ultra-eloquent post-race interviews, between Old Testament references and big word droppings, he’s been careful to thank the many who’ve seen him through this journey. When he was on his descent, touring the various levels of the Inferno, Ervin seemed alone, even among friends. Now he’s well aware that he’s never been alone at all.

As the gospel goes – “I once was lost, but now I’m found, was blind, but now I see..."

Amazing grace, indeed.

New York City Splash

Lia Neal: Olympian, New Yorker, Young Ambassador... Forget the stars for a moment. Take a look over at lane eight. You'll find a young Olympian from somewhere different - the greatest city on earth. About time Gotham got on the map. Lia Neal, lives in Brooklyn, trains in Manhattan, is now an Olympian.

Are you familiar with her story? You can be forgiven if not. Last night in Omaha was one of the all time great nights of swimming. Every superstar delivered. Lochte, Phelps, Franklin, Soni, Coughlin, every last A-lister was in action Saturday night, and every one of them made the Team. Nights like that, it's easy to miss something special happening over in those end lanes...

A brief history of 17-year-old Lia Neal: She's been a record-setting phenom forever. She broke National Age Group records in the sprints at age 10 and 12. Four years ago, she made Trials at age 12. The New York Times ran a feature on her at 13. They wrote about more than her precocious talent. See, Lia Neal could also be the poster child for the Make a Splash campaign. She's a biracial barrier breaker. Her dad is African-American and her mom is Asian. (As my wife and I affectionately refer to our daughter - she's a "halfsie.")

Last night she became just the second African-American woman to make a U.S. Olympic swim team. (Maritza Correia was the first, back in 2004...) I'd like to add that she's also the second halfise to make the Team in 2012. Nathan Adrian is also half Asian. Must be something to those Chinese moms with the sprinters!

This diversity will generate plenty of press, and rightly so. It's the best possible thing that could happen to this sport. Swimming needs more color. And I mean that in more than just the literal black and white sense. We need more melting in the pot. That also extends to where these Olympians come from. Cities, not just roots.

The procession of California, Florida, and Texas gets a little old sometimes. Swimmers come from the other 47 states too. But how many come from New York City? Has there ever been another U.S. Olympic swimmer born and bred from NYC? Not to my knowledge. At least not since World War II.

New Yorkers have pride in excess. Actually, we have pretty much everything in excess. The best and the brightest come here. You either make it, or your spirits are broken and you limp away to more relaxed pastures. (As Sinatra crooned: "If I can make it here...") But for all that we-can-do-anything ambition, Gotham has never produced many great swimmers. This is understandable, I suppose. It's a tough place to be an athlete. Temptation is ubiquitous. Distractions are endless. Not an easy town for a teenager to wake before dawn and take the subway over to morning workout.

But Lia Neal just did it. From way out in lane eight, she charged onto the Olympic team with a tough 4th place finish in the 100 free. There won't be small town parades in her honor; her local paper won't put her on the front page; her school probably won't treat her like an OMG deity. Those sorts of reactions are nice, but they're for smaller towns. That is, everywhere else. Back home, there is sure to be plenty of praise for Lia. But it will be New York style. No bullshit, totally genuine props, followed by the impatient and hard to impress 'what's next?'

For Lia Neal, that could mean relay gold in London. She's an Olympian from New York City.

Strike up the Sinatra. She won't be the last.

Rumblings of Relay Doom

Four years ago, an epic in Beijing... Is an encore even possible in the men's 4 x 100? It's too soon. Yeah, I know. They haven't even swum the final yet. But I'm not the only one reading the writing on the wall. It's written in Australian. Similar language, easy to read...

Maybe in the finals of the men's 100 free, things will break wide open. Maybe Nathan Adrian and Jimmy Feigen will both go 47-mid. Maybe miracle man Jason Lezak will find his way back on the Team and Olympic lightning will strike twice.

Maybe, maybe, maybe... When you come across that many unknowns in business, you don't make the bet.

Because right now, here's how things look: The American men will be fighting for the bronze in the men's 4 x 100 free relay in London. As it stands now, the Aussies are in another league. The French look better too. And the Russians are to be reckoned with.

Right now, the top American sprinter is over a second slower than his Aussie counterpart, James Magnussen, in 2012. Nathan Adrian's top-seed time in the semi-finals would make him the 4th best Aussie, 1/100th behind Matt Targett and two tenths ahead of Eamon Sullivan's best this year.

Of course, the Americans have something they do not. That is: the two best swimmers in history. (Yes, Ryan Lochte has surpassed Mark Spitz as the 2nd best ever behind Phelps...) Neither will be racing in that 100 free final, but both will without question be on that relay in London. Phelps will almost certainly lead off in 47-something. Can Lochte do the same? His 48.9 in semis wasn't exactly an eye-opener, but then we know he's still in tune-up mode, focused on filling his Olympic scorecard with a Phelpsian laundry list of events.

Which means we're really only talking about two spots available. Places 3rd through 6th will be relegated to prelims only, despite the inevitable grumbles.

So, like the now champion Miami Heat, the question comes down to the Other Guys. Like Lebron and D-wade, Phelps and Lochte must carry the load. That goes without saying. But they won't win without a lot of help. It just doesn't look like it will be there.

Yes, we've heard this before. Do you remember Rowdy Gaines's pre-race call before that relay in Beijing? It went something like this: "Dan, I've done this race on paper so many times and I just don't see how the Americans can win. The French just look like the better team." The sad settling for silver went right up until the last lap, with Lezak still way back. With forty meters to go, Hicks says: "The United States trying to hang on for silver..."

And then...

Then, the greatest finish to any race in Olympic history. Watch it again on YouTube. It holds up. Still gives you chills. Wherever you're from, I imagine it will be giving swim fans chills for the next century. It's swimming's version of the Shot Heard Round the World.

These things don't happen twice. Especially when the odds are even longer four years later. The French were very very good in Beijing, the deserved favorite. In London, the Aussies will be better.

But as they say at the track: That's why they run the race.

Just don't bet on it.

Exhausted Eloquence

Coughlin to Franklin, passing the post-race torch...  How many times have you cringed? You've just watched a great one, a record breaking display of toughness and talent. The swimmers climb from the pool and then Dan Hicks sends it down to Andrea Kremer. A word from our champion...

It's so painful sometimes. As awe-inspiring as they can be in the water, the post-race interviews can be hard to watch. So often it's a panting cliché-fest, punctuated by a flood of 'like' and 'um' and utterly empty expressions of joy. It is what it is (to follow with another cliché), and it's not like we're watching them for their eloquence. We're watching because of what they do in the water. It's not entirely fair to expect that brilliance to extend on deck in front of a microphone. But that doesn't make it any less embarrassing.

Now cut to a just turned 17-year-old, braces fresh off, pressure of the world on her broad shoulders. She should be a giggling, shrugging, she's-just-young mess in those interviews. Yet, 17-year-old Missy Franklin has emerged as the most eloquent swimmer on the U.S. Olympic Team. Her responses to post-race questions don't seem real. They're so pitch perfect it's like they were scripted.

Tonight she became an Olympian for the first time. That seems strange, considering she's already the most hyped female swimmer in America. But until she touched the wall first in the 100 backstroke (less than 20 minutes after swimming her 200 free semi-final), Missy Franklin could not yet call herself an Olympian. That should all be a bit overwhelming for the girl. You wouldn't know it when she was put on the spot, panting post-race, by Andrea Kremer.

There was appreciation; there were complete sentences; there was pure joy; and there was the humble payoff to her inspiration, Natalie Coughlin, the woman she had just officially surpassed as the new face of the American women's Team.

Coughlin is having a rough meet thus far in Omaha. Still seeking an Olympic berth, it now seems likely that she will be appearing in London only as a member of the women's 4 x 100 free relay. (She might be off her game, but there's no way she's not in the top six in the 100 free...) This will put her in the role of elder stateswoman who's mostly off stage, there to offer sage wisdom. She could not have a more worthy successor.

I don't mean in the water. Sure, Coughlin and Franklin share many similarities in the pool. They're both all-time backstrokers who can also swim almost anything else. (But breaststroke!) They're a pair physical geniuses, coaches' dreams who make it look easy. But they might have even more in common out of the water.

Ever since she burst on the scene as a teen phenom herself, Coughlin has stood out for her eloquence. Clearly smarter than the average (Cal) Bear, her post-race interviews were always a pleasure. She just had it, an intuitive sense of the sound-byte. In her interviews with Andrea and others, she actually said something. It was never empty jock-speech drivel, which is mostly what these interviews are all about.

Now enter Missy Franklin. No agent, still an amateur, so one has to figure she's never had much media training. She just gets it. Or maybe she doesn't. Maybe Frankin's astonishing eloquence in these interviews is simply due to the fact that she's being genuine. She's grateful, she's good, and she's thrilled to be in this position. End of story. How hard is that to express?

Actually, very. I've been paid to write the words for smart men and women as they stand in front of the camera. It's not that these commentators can't think or speak for themselves, it's just that they can often use a hand. An expert behind the curtain to serve up the sharp lines and the exhaustive research. Speaking on live TV in front of millions of people is no easy thing. Especially when your heart is pumping 180 beats a minute and your family is crying and your friends are hugging and a broadcast network is positioning you as a face of its billion dollar investment...

Maybe Missy Franklin is aware of all this, or maybe she's still too young to really grasp what's swirling all around her. No matter. When she exits the pool, there is no better representative of this sport. Tonight, right after she spoke to Andrea Kremer, I texted a friend in the NBC production truck. I wrote: "I could not sit down and script better quotes from Franklin." He just texted me back.

He wrote: "She's a superstar in every sense."

Shelf Life of a Rivalry

The "story" of Hansen vs. Kitajima...  The king was there looking on. He was sitting smiling in the cheap seats, wearing a mesh hat with a sequined #1 emblazoned on the front. Rest assured, he was neither impressed nor threatened. Kosuke Kitajima was there, most likely, to support his training partner at USC. The one who finished second tonight - Eric Shanteau. The guy who won the race was a vanquished rival, a proud memory. All apologies for pissing on an admirable comeback and a nice London storyline, but the so-called rivalry between Brendan Hansen and Kosuke Kitajima ended long ago.

NBC does not want to hear this, and neither does Hansen. But it's true.

Facts:

1. Kosuke Kitajima is the greatest breaststroker who's ever lived. In a few weeks in London, he will likely complete swimming's version of the Triple Double. That is, double breaststroke gold at three straight Olympics.

2. Brenden Hansen is one of the best breaststrokers ever. A former world record holder with four Olympic medals - a silver and bronze individually and a couple of medley relay golds. He's in the conversation with the great ones, but he's a big notch below his one-time nemesis.

3. From 2004 - 2007, these two had an incredible rivalry. Kitajima took him at the Games in Athens; Hansen claimed the world titles a year later in Montreal. Hansen got the best of him again in 2007, in the 100 breast at the Worlds in Melbourne.

4. In 2008, Kitajima ended this rivalry for good. He defended both breaststroke Olympic titles. Hansen finished 4th in the 100, and did not make the Team in the 200.

Which brings us to a curious statement made by Hansen in his post-race interview with NBC's Andrea Kremer... When asked what Kitajima should think about this race in Omaha, Hansen replied rather defiantly: "Now he knows how hard it is to make the U.S. Olympic team."

Ok... Fair enough. It's beyond dispute that Team USA is the single hardest Olympic team to make on the planet, in any sport. Most of the time. Except, for example, in the case of the men's breaststroke events, where it's actually harder to make the Japanese team these days.

Take a look at the current world rankings. The top two ranked men in the world are both Japanese right now. Kitajima is back ranked number one, as is his custom in Olympic years. Who's next? Ryo Tateishi, with a time of 59.60. Eight one-hundredths faster than Hansen's winning time tonight, and half a second faster than the time Shanteau needed to grab the second spot on the US team. Put another way: If Hansen was Japanese, his comeback would not have resulted in a return to the Games.

This is not meant to criticize a rare successful comeback. Lord knows, there are plenty of unsuccessful comebacks to poke fun at these days... (21st place, Ed Moses? Really?) No, Hansen deserves a bow of respect for what he's done. He's back in the medal hunt after walking away and drying off completely for a few years. Plenty of retired egos think that's easy. The bodies scattered by the side of the comeback trail this year prove that it's anything but.

Still, in the rush to sell every developing Story of these coming Games, let's be honest. By definition, a rivalry means a competition between perceived equals. There's no equality here. Kitajima ended that discussion four years ago.

That is, until Brendan Hansen proves all the haters wrong - and wins that long deferred gold on July 29th in London.

Kingdom of Troy

One coach, four of six Olympians on Day One...  How'd your crew swim today? A few best times maybe, did they handle the Trials pressure? If it could have been better, maybe you should take some notes from this man...

On night one of the U.S. Trials, Gregg Troy's Gators owned Omaha. There were six Olympic spots available. Coach Troy produced four of them. A rather impressive .666 batting average. Even the devil bows in respect.

To recap:

- Ryan Lochte controls the 400 IM from the first stroke of butterfly. I have never watched a more sound defeat of Michael Phelps. It's never happened, ever really. And that's with huge props to Phelps tonight. The guy swam a 4:07, and he'll be the first to admit that he did it on one year of training. 2009, '10, and most of '11 were really a wash for him. It's a testament to his other-worldly abilities that the guy can go that time with the work he's put in over the last four years. But Lochte has earned every step of his ascendance. He really swam a 4:05 tonight. Under the flags, he looked like Usain Bolt finishing the 100 meters in Beijing, without the showboating. Lochte just shut it down. Phelps' world record is under watch in London.

- In the men's 400 free, Peter Vanderkaay had to have a disastrous swim not to make the Team. He was the top seed by three seconds. In the end, he had to fight for it. To his side in lane three, Charlie Houchin gave him everything he could handle over 350 meters, but over in lane five, Vanderkaay's Florida training partner Conor Dwyer was just biding his time. As they turned for home, Dwyer flipped in third, yet it was clear he was already on the Team. Watch enough races and last lap momentum becomes clear as can be. In the end, it was a couple of Coach Troy's boys - PVK and Dwyer. The times were less than impressive, but who cares, sometimes it's all about the race.

- The women's 400 IM was pretty easy to handicap. Forget about the small little yards pool, where lots of good swimmers can look great with big walls. Elizabeth Beisel isn't like that. This year at the women's NCAA's she placed a distant third in her signature event. No matter. She's the defending world champion in the big pool where it matters, and tonight she showed why. With a backbreaking backstroke leg, Beisel ended the race at the halfway mark. Cal's Caitlin Leverenz, who'd beaten her by a second and a half at NCAA's, grabbed the second Olympic berth. Chalk up spot number four for Coach Troy.

How does this happen? How does one coach guide two-thirds of Olympians onto the Team in these two events - the 400 IM and the 400 Free? First thing you should remember - it's impossible to fake these particular races. There are plenty of races that can be faked with sheer talent, as much as I hate that awful T-word... But the 400s? Those are truth in eight beautiful brutal laps.

Coach Troy believes in that Truth. That's why his swimmers swim like such shit in-season. Did you watch Lochte at those Grand Prix meets this spring? His sponsors did, and they were worried. He looked like a tired, beaten dog. And he was. This spring, Elizabeth Beisel wasn't anywhere close to the best swimmer in the NCAA. Now she's making a case for the best swimmer on earth, in the sport's ultimate all-around event. Weeks ago, I heard talk that Vanderkaay was cooked, that he wouldn't even make the Team. Heard talk that Dwyer's best days were behind him, that he was a short course guy, and what a shame that his best events happened to match up with Lochte's.

Now those four are Olympians. Why is that? Because their coach doesn't take his eye off the prize. This isn't just some clichéd sports talk. It takes true balls not to care about all those steps in between. Steps where plenty of folks are watching and judging and wondering why your athletes are swimming so damn slow... What kind of confidence does that require? To keep the course, and know your crew will peak when it's truly time?

I'm biased, this was my Coach too, back in the day. I had a lot of them, more than a few were also Olympic coaches with plenty of champions to their credit, but only one deserves the capital C.

Seven more days in Omaha... Who's taking notes?

The Week Before

Dealing with doubt and dread on Trials Eve... It's quiet. Almost too quiet, right coaches? When you're laying there late at night, sleep a lost notion, rehearsing events you can't control... Have you prepared them perfectly?

And how about you, swimmers? Have you mastered the Power of Intention? Have you put in the work, day in, day out, and put yourself in that Zen zone of No Regrets? Or do you hear that haunting voice at your back? The voice of doubt that creeps in and won't let go...

This is the bad time. The time of dread and demons. Six days until the reckoning for every American swimmer with an Olympic dream. No matter how well prepared and mentally mighty you may be, the week before is brutal. Your taper is drawing to a close, the training is done, you just want to board that plane and get it on. But first, some dark nights of the soul.

I remember the soundtrack to my own dark nights, sixteen years ago. I can't remember what I was listening to sixteen hours ago, but I can remember with dark clarity listening to a brooding Lou Reed album called "Set the Twilight Reeling" in the days before the '96 Canadian Trials. With song titles like "Finish Line" and "Hang On to Your Emotions", it suited my self-important, self-imposed pressurized state. Embarrassing to recall how much it felt like a matter of death and life. Trials would be either an execution or an elevation. There was no in between.

Some perspective would help. Like the kind found by Eric Shanteau, who truly felt the weight of the world on his shoulders four years ago, in the lead up to the 2008 Trials. In addition to all the usual Will-I-Make-It? baggage carried by every competitor, Shanteau was also carrying around a cruel, and still secret, diagnosis of testicular cancer. Somehow the guy performed like a Jedi in Omaha and made the Team in the 200 breast. Take that Big C. When he disclosed his diagnosis days after the Trials, he instantly became a Story. Up there on the press podiums with Phelps and Coughlin, getting calls from Lance, well wishes flooding his Inbox from strangers across the country.

ESPN.com recently caught up with him and discussed his last four cancer-free years. In the story, Shanteau shared the void he felt after the Games, when all the attention vanished and he was left alone with a body that was "obviously capable of growing cancerous tumors." Then his outlook changed. As he returned to the water, he started thrashing his best times, appearing on international podiums, elevating his game to gold medal contention.

Compared to cancer, all pressure is relative. Safe to say Shanteau is sleeping soundly this week.

But what about Ryan Lochte? Are all those sex symbol, Vogue cover, better-than-Phelps expectations getting to him? His week in Omaha is not exactly an open road to Games glory. In more than one of his prime events, he's going to have to be sharp as hell just to get his hand on the wall first or second. If Phelps swims the 400 IM (which now appears to be likely), making the Team in this event might be harder than winning gold in London. With all respect to Hungary's Lazlo Cseh, the three best 400 IM'ers on earth right now are Americans. Meaning, the U.S. entry in London could be Tyler Clary and Michael Phelps. That would be a hell of a start to the week for the now face of the sport. I don't see that happening, the smart money has Lochte touching the wall first, but that scenario is less than a long shot.

What about the 200 free? Of course he'll be on the relay, but is a top two finish a lock? And to really raise the doomsday scenario, what about the 200 back? Sure, Lochte is the defending Olympic champ and remains the favorite for gold, but Clary is looming, and so is young Ryan Murphy of Bolles. It's worth noting that Murphy beat Lochte head-to-head in Gainesville this month. While little can be read into Lochte's untapered swims, word is that he took that race much more seriously than most, competing in Speedo's full Fastskin "system."

How's he sleeping this week? Is the voice of doubt starting to whisper? Unlikely. If Lochte's public persona is to be believed, and it certainly seems genuine, he seems like the last guy to battle any demons of dread.

Maybe that's because he's always grasped what Shanteau had to learn in the hardest way possible: That this is all just a sport and a pastime. Something that's supposed to be fun. And what's more fun than chasing a dream?

Good luck in Omaha, everyone.

The Character Clause

Codes of Conduct and Olympians Behaving Badly... It was a hot spring night by the beach. A couple of newly minted American Olympic swimmers were blowing off some steam. Scratch that cliché - they were getting shit faced. They were pounding Coors Light cans in the parking lot, before they intended to charge into a divey bar called Pete's and pound many more. They were a few feet from the sand in Neptune Beach, Florida, and about twenty-five minutes away from the Bolles School in Jacksonville, where they'd trained for the previous year to become members of Team USA.

With a few ounces left in the last can, some cops took notice. Interrupted their staggering entry into the bar. One Olympian bolted, the other stood his ground; their non-Olympian friends swayed nearby. The one who stayed was less than respectful to the curious cops. The dreaded Do-You-Know-Who-I-Am? may have been uttered... This never ends well. In this case it resulted in an arrest. And then it got worse.

The swimmer's bitter long time rival learned of this incident soon after. The rival had placed fourth at the U.S. Olympic Trials a few weeks earlier. The arrested swimmer in question placed 2nd. The swimmer who had placed third immediately retired after the race. Meaning that the bitter 4th place rival was now an alternate on the U.S. Team. And he intended on getting back to the Games by any means necessary. He was determined to remove his rival and take his spot.

In this case, that meant raising the Character Clause - that shades of grey code of conduct that Olympians from every nation are frequently forced to sign after making the Team. Basically, it means: Don't bring shame on yourself or your nation. Or we reserve the right to throw you off the Team.

This shockingly spiteful scenario went all the way to court. The drunken swimmer outside the bar was allowed to stay a member of Team USA. The bitter rival retired shortly thereafter. Here are their names: Drunken Olympian - Greg Burgess, winner of the Olympic silver medal in the 200 IM at the 1992 Olympics in Barcelona. Bitter rival - Ron Karnaugh, former American record-holder in the 200 IM.

At the time, I was roommates with Burgess. I had a front row seat to this ridiculous debacle.

I share this story now, after all these years, because yet again the Character Clause has reared its judgey head in the lead up to another Games. In this case, surrounding the gun-toting, bar-fighting, journalist-threatening Aussie macho tool Nick D'Arcy. You might remember him from a previous post - The Price of Momentary Madness. In that story, I described the time D'Arcy assaulted fellow swimmer Simon Cowley, messed him up in a brutal life-shattering way, and then spent the next three years apologizing, declaring bankruptcy, and trying to get back on the Aussie team.

Well, D'Arcy's back now, and he's back in trouble. This time for posting pics of himself, along with fellow Olympian Kendrick Monk, toting an assortment of assault weapons in a California gun shop. Take a LOOK. That's D'Arcy on the left, looking like a pretty boy wanna-be gangster. Clearly, there's no comparing actual assault with an ill-advised photo op. Yet the Australian Olympic Committee frowned on it enough to declare that both D'Arcy and Monk must leave the Olympic Village immediately after they finish competing in London.

To steal a line from Gary Hall, Jr., Nick D'Arcy is as sharp as a marble. It's almost comical what a horrendous example he is for the Aussie Olympic team. I say 'almost' because there's nothing actually comical about the damage he inflicted on Cowley. But what's funny (in a depressing sort of way) is that he truly doesn't get it. When questioned recently by a journalist about the Cowley saga at a meet in Irvine, CA, D'Arcy replied with a sneer: "Careful." As in: "Watch what you're saying punk, or I'll fuck you up." ie: the exact same response that got him in all the trouble in the first place.

Now, there's no comparing this clueless sad sack with the momentarily lapse of drunkenness by Greg Burgess. It's worth noting that Burgess went on to become a proud and decorated member of the U.S. Marine Corps. No telling what D'Arcy will go on to do, but whatever the over / under is, I'm betting the under. These two have almost nothing in common.

However, they do have something vital in common: They are both world class swimmers capable of standing on an Olympic podium. Burgess raced to silver in the 200 IM back in Barcelona; the smart money is on D'Arcy to win silver too, behind Phelps in the 200 fly in London. So, the question is: Does a lapse in character forfeit you from competing at the Games? Where is that line drawn? With the law, or with something more essential, more Olympian?

This is part of what gives the Games its aura - Olympians are hoisted up on a pedestal high above that of other professional athletes. The expectation of admirable character among Olympic athletes is part of what sells the Games. (Never mind how disingenuous it is in countless cases...)

It's what makes Michael Phelps taking a hit from a bong a story. That's no more a story than a college freshman having his first shot of tequila. It's amusing that the moralists try to make it anything more.

But where to draw the line? Drinking outside bars, smoking pot, posing with unloaded guns - that, sad to say, describes a large swath of American men. Guys who don't get suspended from their jobs because of the ways they might misbehave in their off-hours...

Lumping Greg Burgess and Michael Phelps into a category with Nick D'Arcy is unfair. And that's the point. The "character clause" that hovers over Olympians is utterly arbitrary. It's a false ever-shifting sense of enforced morality based on something that the Games never were. (NOTE: This is entirely separate from cheating. There are Drugs, as in the kind used to gain an unfair, immoral edge, and then there are drugs - the kinds used to, well, mess you up in let-loose ways...)

World class athletes misbehave. Probably more than the rest of us, given their resources and get-out-of-jail-free cards.

But how does that relate to what they do in the water?

The NCAA is Un-American

And that's a good thing. The issue of foreign Olympians training at U.S. colleges...  That headline is not meant to inflame. It's just a fact. In many quarters, calling someone "un-American" is akin to hate speech. In this case, in reference to an athletic institution based in the United States, it's simply the way it is. See, for decades now, the NCAA has been the principle development system of the world's greatest Olympic athletes. Many of those athletes carry American passports and go for gold under the Stars & Stripes; many more do not.

This upsets some folks. Well meaning Americans who seem to be believe that it's the duty of American universities to prepare only American athletes for the Olympics. Never mind the fact that the USOC does not give a single penny to these colleges to fund that perceived duty. So, apparently it's just supposed to come from some vague altruistic notions of nationalism?

Yesterday, the Wall Street Journal got in on the debate - with a grossly jingoistic piece entitled Schools That Train the Enemy. (Nice to see Rupert Murdoch's always classy fingerprints on his illustrious paper...) The language in the piece makes the skin crawl. In addition to the "enemy" in the headline, there's a sidebar called "Rating the Traitors" (an honor won by Auburn), and words like "damage" and "threat" sprinkled throughout the piece. Fair and balanced, indeed.

Clearly I take exception. And unlike the Journal, I'll make no pretense of any objectivity. My bias is huge. I was the "enemy." I received all the spoils and expertise of NCAA swimming, and then I went off and competed for Canada at the Olympics. My business partner found his way from Germany to Cal Berkeley, where he was the captain of the Golden Bears his senior year, and was a member of their U.S. Open record-breaking 4 x 100 free relay back in 2000. Suppose he's the enemy too. A couple of damaging threats who now own a school that teaches thousands of mostly American children how to swim...

For the two of us, and a great many of our friends, the NCAA was un-American in the best possible way.

But I guess all that big picture context is besides the point. The question remains - should American coaches at American colleges be preparing top foreign athletes to compete against Americans at the Olympics? Is there an inherent conflict of interest there?

First, some facts and figures: In 2008, USA Swimming did a study on the number of foreign swimmers competing at the top level of the NCAA. At the 2008 men's and women's Division I NCAA champs, they found that 48 different countries were represented. The Olympic Games could not top that level of international participation until 1936 - when 49 countries competed at the Berlin Games. This means that our current NCAA Swimming championships are a bigger international event than the first eight Olympics.

Hans Chrunak, the former head coach of the Swedish national team from 1991 to 2000, was once asked who was the biggest sponsor of Swedish swimming. Chrunak thought for a moment, then replied matter-of-factly: "That would be the NCAA." An unlikely reply perhaps. One would expect an apparel company, or perhaps a petroleum company like Phillips 66. But no, for the Swedes, their biggest benefactor was the NCAA. When Chrunak made that statement a few years back, there were 51 Swedish swimmers competing in the NCAA. Now, not every one of those 51 were receiving full scholarships, and not all went on to make the Swedish Olympic Team, but consider the resources and the finances that the NCAA was devoting to these 51 Swedes. Even if each one was receiving a partial scholarship worth $10,000 a year, that's still a half million dollar investment each year in Sweden's swimming program.

One can see how that might rub certain Go U-S-A'ers the wrong way. Should those scholarships and those dollars have been spent on American kids? Well, if those Americans were better qualified, yes. If not, then absolutely not. (How do you feel about affirmative action? What's your stance on isolationism? How do you define your patriotism? This particular issue can quickly slip and slide onto bigger pastures...)

The greatest coaches in the U.S. are often divided on this delicate question. On one hand, you have Texas' Eddie Reese and Stanford's (now retired) Skip Kenney. These two elder statesmen are widely regarded as coaches who've seldom been interested in international swimmers at their schools. That's not to say it was a hard and fast rule for these men. I can rattle off a number of Canadian swimmers who competed for the Cardinal. And Israeli breaststroker Imri Ganiel (1:00.9 in the 100) just recently signed at Texas. Just two examples, plenty more, yet these two perennial powers have mostly been stocked with US swimmers through the years.

Contrast that with the longtime leaders of Auburn and Florida. As the head coach of Auburn from 1990 to 2007, David Marsh took the Tigers to prominence by focusing more on top foreign swimmers than anyone else. Sprint kings Freddy Bousquet and Cesar Cielo, to name the two most obvious. Meanwhile, Florida head coach Gregg Troy quite literally made his coaching name by developing international talent. At the Bolles School, where he coached for twenty years, he guided world beating talents like Surinam's Anthony Nesty and Spain's Martin Zubero, Olympic champions in 1988 and 1992, respectively. Add these guys to the Journal's "enemy" list too... (More bias, I was one of Coach Troy's "international" swimmers at Bolles. At the 1996 Games, we had 18 different countries represented in Atlanta. Two Thai friends and I made t-shirts that proudly proclaimed "Bolles Nation.")

Fast forward to today: Gregg Troy is the head coach of the U.S. men's Olympic swim team. Dave Marsh is now the CEO and Head Elite Coach of SwimMAC - a United States Olympic Committee Center of Excellence. So, is it fair to say that these two world class coaches may have improved their craft working with all those world class foreign talents? So much so that these two are now charged with developing and leading Team USA on the biggest stage possible.

The career arcs of Marsh and Troy reveal something frequently missed when folks make their isolationist arguments in favor of keeping foreign swimmers out of the NCAA. Both coaches and swimmers improve thanks to that international presence. Want to be the best? Put yourself around the best possible talent. American swimmers are better thanks to the presence of foreign athletes side by side in their lanes at college. And American coaches are better too, when given the opportunity to work with top talent from a wide range of diverse backgrounds. How could that not help a team improve in every way?

So, here's to the enemies. The foreigners, the ones who cross oceans and borders and arrive at American colleges determined to improve themselves... By doing so, they also improve all those young entitled American kids around them.

No thanks necessary.

Joy in Mudville

Todd Schmitz and the Art of Play It's Sunday morning. You're 16-years-old. You're in incredible shape, you swim over twenty miles a week after all, but right now all you want to do is sleep. When you decide to wake - late - you just want to relax, waste away the day on Facebook, far from the pool. Who can blame you?

Some coaches understand this basic need for balance and step-away sanity. Others don't. There's a school of thought that says young swimmers should be in the water everyday. Seven days a week, 365 days a year, for years on end. Physically speaking, there is a lot to be said for this. It works. Constant contact with the water, never losing the feel for your strokes, ever, not for one day throughout your teenage years... This path produces champions. Long term sanity not included.

Todd Schmitz, aka Missy Franklin's coach, is firmly in the first camp. He wants his swimmers to step away. Often for entire weekends. What they might lose in feel will be make up for in fun. Because, come Monday, his kids will want to be back at the pool. You can't tell me that's the case for those kids who were forced to swim a few grand on Sunday.

This week the Wall Street Journal ran a terrific profile on Schmitz. It's say-no-more headline: How Not to Ruin a Swimming Prodigy. The piece reveals a supremely grateful coach. A guy who recognizes that all top coaches, at their inception, have to be insanely lucky. In Schmitz's case, he was fortunate enough to find 7-year-old Missy Franklin in his Starfish group during his first ever coaching job. He's not the first coach to find himself in the right place at the right time with the right swimmer, and while that might make plenty of other coaches crazed with jealousy, he deserves huge props for not screwing it up. Which is all too easy to do... Just take a look at the National Age Group records for 10 & Unders -- how many found themselves in Missy Franklin's position seven years later?

The Colorado Stars are like a lot of clubs teams across the States. It's a rag tag operation that jumps from pool to pool wherever the team can reserve practice time. Fact is, it's a stepping stone job. A team where an up and coming coach produces some big talent, gets named to a few national teams, and then rides his phenom's wave to a more high profile position... Except, it seems Schmitz isn't interested in taking that next leap to the so-called big time. He seems more interested in having a good time with the group he's got. How refreshing is that?

In that Journal story, the reporter writes: "Even when it comes to improving form—something other coaches regard as a strict science—Schmitz believes in the art of play."

Yes, the Art of Play -- perhaps the most powerful concept in all of education today. This is something that's being studied with all seriousness by child psychologists these days. The findings are in the process of turning early education on its head. For this reason: Playing works better than working.

In the recent best-selling book "Imagine, How Creativity Works", author Jonah Lehrer writes about a study of four-year-olds divided into two groups for a year of education and observation. One group was given a classroom full of "unstructured play" - that is, plenty of time to explore on their own, follow their own imaginations, and have fun with the way they chose to learn. The other group was given a more traditional classroom experience full of phonetics and memorization, you know, the usual ways of "learning" found in most schools. After a few months, the researchers did some preliminary tests to see how these two groups were learning. Here's what they found: the first group, the one given all that unstructured play was uncomfortably far ahead of the 'traditional' group in every measure of intelligence and learning. Uncomfortable because the educators found it unethical to continue the study -- because of the disservice they were doing to the latter group.

That study was with a group of preschoolers. While it's undeniable that kids need more structure as they enter grade school and beyond, the power of play can't just be tossed aside like an outgrown pair of old shoes. Teenagers need it too. Especially ultra-dedicated teenage athletes who already spend a huge portion of their lives staring at a black line at the bottom of a swimming pool.

Because, when you step up to the plate, with all the pressure in the world on those young shoulders, there needs to be joy. Without it, what's the point?

For Love and Hate

Coughlin and Phelps - A Contrast in Outlooks It gets old. It does for everyone. The mornings, rising before dawn isn't fun, never is. Being sore all the time for years on end, I don't miss that. The ever-present pressure, the cloud that follows you, forever questioning your every move, whether this decision or that will help you be at your best. One can understand the longing to escape.

It's a seldom reported side to the supposed glory of the Games: Many athletes, the ones nearing the end, just can't wait to get away.

That's why you hear the stories of swimmers who retire and choose to stay dry - for years. Those swimmed-out souls whose only contact with water is the shower after they've swum their final race... It seems Michael Phelps is among this disgruntled group.

Today on ESPN.com, Rick Reilly wrote a piece that led off like this: "Michael Phelps can't wait for these coming Olympics -- to end."

It went on to detail how much Phelps truly dislikes the water, how for all his world travels, he hasn't seen much of anything, how he just wants to get out of the pool and on to the golf course. Take a look. Reilly was sympathetic to Michael's "plight", even if he clearly doesn't get it. For those that do, the empathy might be a little harder to come by. On the one hand, there's burnout. Fair enough, every swimmer can relate. But on the other there's perspective. Like the kind expressed by Natalie Coughlin...

Right next to that Phelps piece, ESPN.com ran a story entitled "Coughlin's run a bit under radar." It revealed a very different mindset, from a swimmer who's been there every step of the way with Phelps; their careers have unfolded almost exactly in parallel. For the last decade, Natalie Coughlin has been America's premier female swimmer. While her aquatic achievements aren't quite Phelpsian (no one's are), she has steadily compiled one of the greatest careers in Olympic history. Indeed, if she has another standout Games in London, Coughlin will go down as the most decorated female athlete in U.S. Olympic history. She has eleven medals now, just one behind Jenny Thompson. If she wins two in London, she'll be second in total medals only to Phelps, and first among all U.S. women in any sport.

While their careers have followed the same current, it's clear that their present outlooks could not be more different. Phelps told Rick Reilly that he's so sick of the water that when he goes to the beach, he doesn't even want to get in. Consider that for a second. It's more than a little depressing to read that the greatest swimmer in the history of the world hates to be in water. So much so that the thought of diving through the waves on a hot summer's day repels him.

Now contrast that with Coughlin's comments about her career as a swimmer. A click away on ESPN today, here's what she had to say: "I love the entire process. I love the day-to-day. As much as I hate being tired all the time, I love pushing myself in training and I love being outdoors. As I get older, I realize more and more of my friends have to sit in an office, in a cubicle. I get to watch the sun rise, I get to travel the world and take care of my body and that's my job. That's really cool. That alone keeps me going."

As I was saying, there's burnout, and then there's perspective. It might suck to wake up at 5am most days, it might be a bummer to fly across the world all the time and see very little, but does it suck as much as being chained to a cubicle? Earning enough to be well ensconced in the 1% while getting paid to swim?

This is not meant to bash Phelps's current outlook. Beyond the endless training, the guy has had to shoulder the weight of the sport for years now. That's a hell of a burden. Plenty of folks will say: 'well, then why didn't he just retire after Beijing and be done with it?' Like it was that easy... That wasn't an option. Not for a guy who's spoken so much of wanting to 'change the sport', of wanting to elevate it and bring it to the masses.

Those are the words of an ambassador. By definition: "a person who acts as a representative or promoter of a specified activity."

It might take some dry years away, but here's hoping the love will return someday. Because, as Natalie Coughlin still appreciates, that specified activity is a very beautiful thing indeed.

The Devil's New Muse

Ryan Lochte on cover of Vogue... Joins elite company of all-time bachelors

How's this for a relay of ladies men? Leading off, Mr. George Clooney; next up, some ugly guy named Richard Gere; taking the third spot, the ever humble Lebron James; and swimming the anchor leg... it's none other than Ryan Lochte. There you have it: the only four men ever to grace the cover of Vogue.

As Casanova coronations go, this is a pretty ridiculous crew. The Lochte cover hits newsstands this week. Take a look at it right HERE. Flanked by gorgeous goalie, Hope Solo, on the left, and Serena Williams on the right, Lochte is now front and center on the fashion bible. As they said about Bogart, Sinatra, Bond, and of course, Austin Powers: Women want him, men want to be him. Not bad for a swimmer with just one individual Olympic gold to his name. So far, at least...

Vogue's supreme ruler /editor (and alleged Prada-wearing Devil) Anna Wintour has long had a thing for ultra-fit athletes. For years, her male muse has been Roger Federer. But Federer's always been the faithful married gent, the unflappable family man who could get any lady out there, but would rather chill out in private with Mirka and his girls. Lochte and his fellow Vogue coverboys are clearly cut from a different clothe.

Perhaps you've heard stories?

I might have heard a few, but why spread dirty details that I can't substantiate? That would be gossip, and that's more fun in bars than blogs.

Late night tales aside, this is big news for the entire sport. A swimmer on the cover of Vogue, joining a trio of absolute icons.

Damn right.

The Seaweed Streak

In Praise of Murray Rose, Australia's Original Thorpedo... 1939 - 2012, RIP "Wow, he was handsome," said my wife, taking a long look at a long ago cover of Sports Illustrated.

It was hard to disagree. The guy looked like a sun-baked superhero. See for yourself, right HERE: Rose as SI cover boy back on August 14, 1961, over half a century ago. Back then, Murray Rose was the greatest distance swimmer in history, the winner of four Olympic gold medals, a sporting icon Down Under whose fame at home was said to exceed Mickey Mantle's in the States.

Rose died last Sunday, April 15, of leukemia. He was 73. Over the last few days, I've been reading his many obits. (Here's a nice one in the New York Times.) The man had a story to tell, a life worth remembering...

First, his Olympic record: In 1956, at the Melbourne Olympics, 17-year-old Rose won gold in the 400, the 1500, and as a member of the Aussie's winning 4 x 200 free relay. Four years later, now the team captain of the USC Trojans, Rose returned to the Games in Rome, where he defended his Olympic crown in the 400 free, added a silver in the mile, and a bronze on the 4 x 200 relay. It's said that he would have added three more medals in those same events at the 1964 Olympics in Tokyo, but by that time, Rose was immersed in a Hollywood acting career.

Aside from those outsized Olympic achievements, Murray Rose had another claim to fame: his diet. See, Rose was a vegan, a proponent of raw foods and only organically grown fruits and vegetables. Goes without saying, he was a few decades ahead of the foodie curve. He dined on seaweed and sunflower seeds and produce grown out back where he could see it pulled from the earth. In the late 50's after he'd exploded to prominence, his vegetarianism was the subject of countless articles. Indeed, he may have been the sporting world's first celebrity to promote natural foods. But unlike so many of today's fanatical holier-than-thou eaters, Rose was adamant about never pushing his dietary agenda on others. According to SI, he also had a "corresponding resentment of having others' opinions forced on him." In short, he made his own decisions and lived by his own set of values.

In that same SI story way back when, they called him "an Englishman by birth, an Australian by law, and an American by preference." Some background: Rose was born at the dawn of World War II in Scotland. His parents wanted to emigrate to the States, but they had some difficulties with immigration. Instead, they made their way to Australia, moving young Murray out of harm's way as the war intensified in Europe. The family settled within spitting distance of the Pacific, in an apartment overlooking Sydney harbor. Rose spent every day of his childhood with his toes in the water. He was "discovered" by a local swim coach when he was just 5-years-old. A dozen years later, he was the world's greatest swimmer - and the biggest star in his land, when Australia hosted the 1956 Melbourne Games.

Then, he was off to USC, leading his parents' long deferred American dream. His father, now a prominent advertising executive in Sydney, took a job in New York, while Murray settled into L.A. life as a Trojan. He swam for a young then-unproven coach named Peter Daland; Rose was soon elected SC's team captain.

By all accounts, Murray was a supremely humble, honest soul. He had some decent success in Hollywood, with a few roles opposite stars of the day like Rock Hudson and Tab Hunter, but once admitted he lacked the passion to truly commit to acting. He never had that problem with swimming. In the pool, his commitment was complete.

Rose was known for his ability always to win the close one. He was a pure racer, a guy who lived to be tested in head-to-head competition. 43 years ago, Sports Illustrated produced one of the all-time great quotes from any Olympian, when they asked Rose about his ruthless racing instincts. Said Rose: "If you are racing a man the object is to break him. You can break the other man's confidence by doing certain things. The big thing is to make him feel you are controlling the race."

Safe to say Michael Phelps, and every other champion who's come since, has shared that assassin's sentiment. But Murray Rose wasn't like the others. He had a perspective that transcended time and glory. Here were his parting words to Sports Illustrated back in that 1961 cover story:

"If you can concentrate so that time is meaningless, a race will give you complete pleasure and you will feel no pain."

Heartbreak on the Way Home

Solidarity for Canada's Stefan Hirniak... "What can you say?" asked my friend Adam. "It's beyond words."

I didn't have an answer. Still don't. Not really sure why I'm even writing this. All I know is that I don't think I've ever felt for a fellow swimmer - a guy I've never met - more in my life. And Adam and I both know that a fellow Canadian 200 flyer could really use some support right about now. His name is Stefan Hirniak. Last night at the Canadian Olympic Trials, he missed making the Team over the final 25 meters of the race, fading to finish 4th. The exact same thing happened to him four years ago, at the Trials for Beijing. Both times he was a favorite to make it. Both times it came down to that final 50, heading for home.

The Adam I'm referring to is Adam Sioui - the guy who won the 200 fly at Canadian Trials back in 2008. The same event I won, in the same pool in Montreal, twelve years before that, in 1996. 200 flyers tend to be a certain tribe of swimmer, same as the quirky breaststrokers or the masochistic milers. Not sure what adjective you stick in front of the flyers, but you know the type. When you represent the same country, swimming the same event, over a few generations of National Teams, you tend to look out for the guys who come next. Hirniak came next.

He was faster than Sioui or I. He's the Canadian Record Holder in fact, with a lifetime best of 1:57.01. A time recorded back in 2010, without the benefit of the Suits, I might add.

Heartbreak is part of the Olympic Trials. In any country, any sport. When you get down to it, it's what gives these pressure-drenched events their beauty. So few go home with glowing hearts, their goals fulfilled. Most limp back to their home pools with dashed Olympic dreams. But few experience heartbreak on the scale of Hirniak.

It's something you don't get over anytime soon. But there is a bright light at the end of this dark tunnel...

I told my partner Lars about what happened to Hirniak last night in Montreal. His response was thoughtful, and not what you'd expect to hear right after this level of disappointment: "Well, if he's able to look at it the right way, it will probably make him more successful in his life after swimming," said Lars.

Come again? Isn't the cliché supposed to be how becoming an Olympian makes everything after that much easier? How that great sporting success informs your later professional career, injecting you with a level of special Games-anointed confidence? Well, not exactly, not for everyone.

Lars proceeded to point out a laundry list of former Olympic champions (who shall remain nameless...) whose lives effectively stopped right after their mighty moment of glory. In the true, tragic "To An Athlete Dying Young" way... (If you don't know A.E. Housman's classic poem, please read it now, right HERE.) That success becomes a high water mark that can never be duplicated, so the rest of days become a rather sad dull buzz kill, with the volume turned way down.

But to miss it? To get so very close, not once but twice? To have the wall within sight like that...

That's not something you wish upon anyone. But I'll tell you what it is: This is someone you want to hire once those psychic wounds have had some time to heal. It's someone I'd bet large sums of money on succeeding - once that new path is taken.

I know Stefan Hirniak doesn't want to hear it right now. Would you? But this isn't some look-at-the-bright-side spin to a Trials Heartbreak. This is actually the case. Life extends a whole hell of a lot longer than a few cruel moments in a swimming pool in your 20's. And when those moments don't pan out as planned, well, those are often the men and women who stay hungry for life.

Who go on to truly great things, far beyond mere Games...

The Devil and Miss Manaudou

Comeback Success For the French Olympic Queen A warm welcome back to the lovely Laure... Yesterday at the French Olympic Trials, Laure Manaudou sealed her return to the Olympic stage with victory in the women's 100 back. Her time - 1:00.16 - was no joke. Just tenths off her lifetime best, and fast enough to put her back in the game for the medals in London. An Olympic champion eight years ago in Athens, with a lifetime of celebrity and scandal stuffed in between, one of the greats of her generation is back.

It's become tiresome to preface every race result with that fast-suit disclaimer (we all know everyone was faster in the warped years of '08-'09), so let's keep the suits out of it. The sport is a more interesting place with Laure Manaudou in it. Compared to what she's been through, times on the clock are boring and incidental.

To review: From 2004 to 2007, Manaudau was arguably the greatest female swimmer on earth. In Athens, she won gold in the 400 free, silver in the 800 free, and bronze in the 100 back. Her victory in the 400 made her France's first woman ever to win Olympic swimming gold. It also made her a massive celebrity across the pond. Two years later, she broke the unbreakable - Janet Evans' world record in the 400 free. A record that had stood untouched for 18 years. A year after that, at the 2007 World Championships, she broke the world record in the 200 free too. At the Worlds in Melbourne, she also defended her world title in the 400, and added silver in the 800 and the 100 back.

Then the wheels came off.

A month after '07 Worlds, Manaudou announced that she was making a traitorous move - she was leaving her longtime coach, Phillipe Lucas, and she was leaving her country. She was off to Italy. She was chasing a guy. The man in question: an Italian lothario named Luca Marin. A fellow World Champs medalist (bronze in the 400 IM in Melbourne), Marin held the keys to Laure's heart. He also held some very compromising pictures of his girlfriend.

That December, at the short course Worlds in Budapest, Hungary, the lovers had an ugly public quarrel. A ring was thrown, a break up was announced. And that very day, those pictures surfaced online. (I'll resist the impulse to provide a link; if you haven't seen them, go ahead and Google it...) Marin denied having anything to do with it. Sure, buddy, so did Rick Salomon... (Paris anyone?)

Regardless of who pulled the trigger, the damage was clearly done as far as Manaudou's psyche was concerned. She showed up at the Beijing Olympics a broken swimmer. She flat out quit in the final of the 400 free, fading to a hard-to-watch 8th in the 400. She added a lackluster 7th in the 100 back, and didn't bother to make it through the semi-final in the 200 back. And then she was gone. Retired at 21.

Fortunately, that was not all she wrote. What's the best revenge for a broken heart? Why, shacking up with a better man, of course. Manaudou soon did just that. Marin was a pretty good swimmer, a World Champs medal is nothing to sneeze at, but he's nowhere near in the same league as the guy who replaced him. A guy named Fred Bousquet: former world record holder in the 50 free, and one of the fastest men on earth for many years now. (The guy is also as ripped as a cartoon superhero...) In April 2010, the French power couple had a baby girl named Manon.

Any wonder why Manaudou's comeback has been a success?

She flew across the pond to States, moved to Auburn, where her man Bousquet had achieved such soaring success for the Tigers. And it all came back.

As we've seen in Australia, the fate of the comeback crew has been pretty grim. Thorpe, gone. Klim, out. Huegill, no show. Trickett, a semi-success, an alternate on the Aussie relay. The coming track record of others on the trail will likely be just as grim. It's tough to comeback.

But when you retire at 21, before you've even reached your peak, when your personal life comes full circle to a family and a happily ever after... Is it any wonder Miss Manaudou is back on the Olympic stage?