Still Throwing His Weight Around : O’Brien Turns to Discus After 4 Decades of Shotputting Brings Him to His Knees

Just the thought is almost blasphemy: Parry O’Brien giving up the shotput and concentrating solely on the discus.

To many people, O’Brien is the shotput. He has the credentials to prove it--two Olympic gold medals, a silver and a bronze. He broke the world record in his event 16 different times. When old-timers watch just about any shotputter today, they see the image of Parry O’Brien, because what was once known as the O’Brien Glide has become the accepted way to throw the shot.

However, O’Brien is 53 these days, and although he still weighs the same 250 pounds, the ol’ body is telling him he can’t do some of the things he used to do. Some people are telling him the same thing.

“There are some orthopedic surgeons who say I shouldn’t do these things anymore,” said O’Brien, who holds the world records for men over 50 in the 12-pound shot (58-1 1/2) and the 1.5-kilogram discus (185-9).

O’Brien, who didn’t budge an inch in his prime, is giving in to them, just a little.

Perhaps it has something to do with the fact that he managed to throw the shot just 52-7 1/2 in the World Veterans Games last month in Rome, losing by more than 15 inches to Peter Speken of West Germany.

“I’m not going to throw the shot any more,” said O’Brien, who overcame Speken in the discus with a toss of 176-9 on the final throw of competition.

“I’m afraid of permanent damage to my right knee. I’ve had surgery on both knees, two on the right one. When you throw the shot, your weight comes over the knee. The discus is a different action.

“I once fancied myself as a 10K runner. At 250 pounds, that wasn’t the brightest idea I ever had. I wore out and tore the cartilage in my right knee. There’s really nothing left in there. I won’t stop being active because actually it hurts me more when I don’t do anything than when I work out heavily.”

And O’Brien, who lives in Mission Hills, says he’s working out this summer much as he did in the 1950s when he ruled the shotput ring with a blustery style that scared off many opponents and psyched out the rest.

The former USC All-American has abandoned his prowling style and psychological warm-up tricks, but he approaches meets in much the same way he did when the world was his.

He’s not just out there to kick around old times.

“I approach it in a professional and thorough way,” says O’Brien, who prepped at Santa Monica High. “This is the only way I can get complete satisfaction out of it. A lot of the Masters are weekend competitors. I’m not in it for the fun of it, per se, although it is fun.

“The only reason I’m in it is to increase my world age group records. That’s the reason I got back into it a few years ago, and once I did that somebody said, ‘You earned a free trip to Rome for 1985,’ so I stayed in it.

“It ticks me off sometimes when I go to senior meets and they don’t have the proper measuring implements. But I have to consider that many of these people don’t have the same philosophy. They’re in it to compete just for the fun of it. A lot of them didn’t compete at the world-class level when they were younger. For example, I was the only former Olympian on the U.S. team to win a medal in Rome.

“I’m not knocking them at all, my motives are just different. I want to do my best.”

He’s mellowed a bit, but there’s some of the old O’Brien in there, the guy who feuded with rival Bill Nieder.

O’Brien accused Nieder of choking in the big meets, which he seemed to do until the 1960 Olympic finals in Rome, while Nieder accused O’Brien of ducking head-to-head confrontations with him. Together, they helped bring their event in out of the cold.

It all started when O’Brien called Nieder, from Kansas, “a cow-pasture performer.” Nieder began calling his adversary “the L.A. Dodger.”

“He’d go to a meet in East Salina, Kan., or some other little town and say, ‘Where’s O’Brien,’ ” recalls O’Brien. “We had a little feud going, but it was good. As long as we kept the feud going, it kept the ink going. . . . “I can remember when I started out, the shotput was almost an afterthought in most meets. It was held outside most major stadiums. We helped put some excitement in it.”

One of the most exciting days came in Rome in 1960. Nieder bombed out in the Olympic Trials, failing to qualify for the team, but made the squad as an alternate and replaced injured Dave Davis.

O’Brien led going into the final round before Nieder turned the Olympic stadium into a most elegant cow pasture indeed.

“I had won the two previous gold medals before Rome, but Nieder had broken the world record prior to the Games,” O’Brien recalls. “I was leading until he blasted one 64-4. I was disappointed, but I knew beforehand I’d have to throw close to my best to win. Nieder had been known to choke on the big ones, but he didn’t that day.”

“When you teach somebody to throw the shot, you teach him the O’Brien method,” says track Coach Mike Herrington of Hart High. “No one calls it that any more, but that’s what it is. Oh, maybe if you were taking a theory of track class, the instructor might tell you it was perfected by Parry O’Brien, but to the layman, that’s just the way you throw the shot.”

While a student at Hart, Herrington learned of O’Brien through his instructors. He said coaches Dave Holden and Frank DeBernardi used to take their track-and-field teams to the Sports Arena to watch guys like Randy Matson, Dallas Long and Brian Oldfield compete.

“But O’Brien was a pioneer, the first great one, like Ty Cobb in baseball,” Herrington said. “When you consider his contributions to the sport, to his event, he was the best.”

O’Brien created his living legacy almost by accident.

During the annual European summer track tour of 1951, O’Brien was traveling from city to city and competing almost every day. By the end of the tour, he was running out of gas.

Until that time, shotputters would stand at one edge of the seven-foot circle facing the target area sideways. After a hop and step across the ring, a right-handed shotputter would make a quarter turn to his left and let the 16-pound ball fly.

Searching for a little extra boost, O’Brien began rotating away from his target, and by the end of the ’51 tour he had his back completely turned. He was using more of the circle to build speed and momentum, and his throws were actually increasing even though he felt his strength decreasing as the tour continued.

O’Brien told Richard Hoffer of The Times in an interview last year: “I was down to 225. I was a rail. I was losing all my strength. I was just looking for an easier way to get that thing off. I wanted to try something that felt good.”

It felt so good that O’Brien used it to dominate his event for 10 years, going undefeated from 1952 to the 1956 Olympic Trials--where he had strep throat and a temperature of 101 degrees, and finished second to Ken Bantum by two inches.

Along the way, other shotputters saw there was a method to his madness, and though it took time, eventually everyone began throwing the shot O’Brien’s way.

“I’m glad to leave that legacy with the sport,” O’Brien says. “It’s very simple, but it was a new technique I just happened to devise and now it’s universally accepted. It’s nice to have your name on something like that, but more importantly to me, it’s something everybody can use effectively in the shotput.”

O’Brien does his training at the Cal State Northridge track stadium near his home. The stadium is locked for the summer, so when he arrives O’Brien uses another technique of his to get through the turnstile.

“There’s a little trick to this,” he says, placing a hand on one of the turnstile bars. Giving a shove, he goes halfway through the turnstile cage, and with another seemingly effortless push is inside the stadium.

A reporter and photographer struggle through with a helping hand from O’Brien, who turns to his wife, Terry, and says with a laugh, “You’re on your own, Terry.” Terry is there to walk the newly paved track, and after her husband helps her enter the stadium, she’s off with her cassette player and headphones.

After warming up, O’Brien begins to toss two discuses toward his duffel bag, which he has placed approximately 150 feet from the discus circle. He is talking both to himself and the reporter.

Terry is making tracks around the outside of the oval.

“I use the bag more for direction than for distance,” O’Brien says, explaining that, much like a pull hitter in baseball, he wants the disc to go to the left. It’s in the air longer that way, and hang time means distance.

“That’s a pretty good one. Good form on that one.”

“This was going to be the end of my season,” O’Brien says, “but after I got back from Rome I started throwing real well in practice. Now I’m planning to be in three or four more meets. There’s one July 20 in Berkeley, then July 27 at Cal State Long Beach and another one in Los Gatos.”

“A flutterbomb. That’s the same thing twice in a row. Start doing it right, dummy.”

“This is a lot more fun,” O’Brien says of the discus. “The shotput is just a lot of hard work. There’s a lot more technique and timing in the discus. There’s technique in the shot, but a lot of it’s just strength and explosion.”

O’Brien has had a lot more time to train this summer because financially troubled American Savings dissolved the division over which he was executive vice president. “I’ve been doing a lot of this because it’s good emotional therapy,” he said. “It’s the old punching-bag theory.”

From the track, Terry yells, “Nice throw, Parry,” after a long one to the left side.

“That’s my coach.”

“I’m going to San Diego for an interview,” O’Brien says. “I think I might get offered a job down there, which would mean a move. I don’t think I’m ready to move. I like the Valley. I’ve been here since 1962, first in Encino and now Mission Hills. But I may not have the luxury to choose if I want to work.”

“A good throw, but a foul, folks. Send that man to the showers.”

O’Brien got off the plane in Rome unaware that he had to throw the shot the next day. At 8:30 in the morning.

The event was over before he knew it, and he was second--unusual for O’Brien, then and now.

“I had forgotten about the effects of jet lag, just hadn’t given it any thought,” O’Brien said. “I felt lousy. I just didn’t have any pep or energy. Not only was it in the morning, but it was in another stadium (other than the Olympic stadium) and I just couldn’t get up for it.

“Once acclimated, I’d probably beat Speken 10 out of 10. I’m not taking anything away from his victory, but I certainly would have done better under different circumstances, even later the same day. I had five days to get acclimated for the discus.”

During those five days, O’Brien also had a chance to see Rome, something he missed in 1960 because the athletes stayed in the Olympic Village most of the time.

“The Olympic stadium is quite grand,” he said. “I remember marching in with all the other athletes in 1960 more than anything. I remember there was a tremendous roar from the crowd of 80,000 people. There was quite a contrast when we walked into an empty stadium. Understanding the type of competition we’re talking about, there were more people on the field than in the stands this time.”

Having finished second in the shotput, O’Brien said he was thinking more about why he was there when he walked into the stadium this time.

He was thinking about Speken.

“I don’t remember him from the past at all,” O’Brien said, “but I knew he would be a major contender in the discus. As it turned out, I had several other things to worry about.

“First, my discus didn’t weigh in. It was five grams under weight, so I had to borrow a discus I’d never used in competition. There can be quite a difference in feel, and I had to get used to that real quick.

“Then it started to rain. The release of the discus is very critical and any moisture can really mess up your throw. I was glad when it rained only briefly.”

O’Brien had the discus handicapped pretty well. He was right about Speken, and also about a feeling that the event would come down to the final throws.

And the West German was ahead.

“He kept bettering himself on each throw,” O’Brien said. “I got to my sixth throw, the last one, and it went 53 meters, 89 centimeters (176-9)--enough to win. It was the last throw of the competition so he didn’t have a chance to counter. I think he’d done his best though.

“I’d like to say I did things that way by design, but I just got lucky. I was just glad to get out of Rome with more than a second this time.”

O’Brien says he hasn’t thought about how much longer he’ll compete on the Masters circuit. He just wants to stretch those age-group records, which he set on the same day--July 1, 1984--in the TAC Regional Masters meet at Occidental College.

He says: “I’m just enjoying being the best 50-plus guy there ever was at throwing these things.”