This Time, It Was Record That Fell, Not Decker

It spread through the athletes’ warm-up area like the early whispers of an approaching storm. The mummering: “There she is. It’s her .”

High school girls, their hair, makeup and running clothes the carbon of their idol, giggled, gawked and clutched one another and their autograph pads as Mary Decker passed close by.

So besieged was the centerpiece of the Sunkist Invitational that not even the glare of Decker’s brawny husband, Richard Slaney, could dissuade the throng. That was before the race. And before Decker proved once again that she’s not down, she’s not out and she’s not putting up with any guff from Ruth Wysocki, the press or whoever else tries to take her on.

The five women who ran against Decker in the 2,000 meters Friday night at the Sports Arena know that. Decker’s rewriting of Yekaterina Podkopayeva’s world record was classic Mary Decker middle-distance running. If you have never seen Decker run and could only see one race, this was the one. The control, the smooth pace, the power lurking just beneath the surface are the Decker trademarks. Decker’s racing style is tenacity with a human face.

As Decker and Wysocki paced nervously as pre-race introductions were made, Wysocki cracked a smile when the public address announcer blared, “And now, the race you’ve all been waiting for . . . “ Understatement of the night. And when a Niagara of cheers and boos rained down on both Decker and Wysocki, the volume nearly shook the place. Decker lined up inside, Wysocki on her right, and Irish Olympian Monica Joyce on Wysocki’s right.

Decker took it from the gun in her usual grind-it-out manner. Wysocki, who last Tuesday in Japan ran her first indoor race ever, chugged along in her usual manner. By 500 meters, Decker and Wysocki had opened a lead on the rest of the runners and Decker was four seconds below the Soviet’s record pace. The crowd loved it, Mary beating the Soviets in absentia.

With a few laps to go, Decker began lapping runners. She ran outside them, she ran inside them. The crowd cheered and Decker kept pulling away. When she was done and had broken the record by nearly nine seconds, Decker smiled. A lot. The woman who wasn’t able to show the public what she could do in the Olympic Games, took a victory lap and blew kisses to the audience. Then she held up her hand--Number One.

The post-race press conference got straight to the point. “This is not a comeback, although the press will say that,” Decker said, adding that from now on she wants to be called Mary Slaney.

“I wanted to win and was determined to set a world record. In the race, I had no idea what my splits were; the crowd was so noisy I couldn’t hear them (the times). I’m satisfied with the race. It was a respectable time.”

About Wysocki’s assertions last week that Decker’s behavior was less than polite after she collided with Budd and fell in the 3,000 Olympic final:

“People can form their own opinions. Ruth Wysocki wasn’t in the race. I know what happened, Zola knows what happened.

About her public image: “I think it’s positive. But you (press) are the people, too. It’s up to you. I am the same person I have always been. The press had not always told the truth about me. I just think it’s time the press started telling the truth. . . . The Zola Budd incident from the start. It was a prefabricated thing.”

Decker sat through the entire questioning with a great deal of control and patience. She did grow weary of the line of questioning, but Decker said she is as happy as she’s ever been. With Slaney at her side and the cameras pointed and pens poised and a record in hand, it’s not hard to believe.

Outside, in the milling crowd of autograph seekers, one of the high school girls who bears a striking resemblance to Decker walked by. Squeals. Shrieks. And, for a moment, that child experienced what Decker must feel every time she competes. But Decker has her record. And her public.