REFLECTIONS OF THE L.A. GAMES : Four Who Played Important Roles in 1984 Olympics Reminisce on the Magical Moments They Encountered : Dutch Discus Thrower Had Eye on Gold

Images. That’s what I get when I think back to Los Angeles and my participation (in the 1984 Olympics). I would have to dig deeply, to tell you about my experiences there. And even then, there are holes in my memory, caused by moments where I was physically there, but my mind was turned off.

No, I wasn’t spacey. On the contrary. I had both feet of my 215-pound body firmly on the ground. No, it was because I had to be a winner. If there was any favorite to win the gold medal it was me. A discus thrower from Holland.

Because I had to win, and because my event was held on the next-to-last day of the Games, I had to stay within myself. I couldn’t let go, I couldn’t savor the joy of the other athletes participating in the Olympics. I had to keep concentrating. I was struggling. A month before the Games I had thrown 233 feet (a world best). I didn’t have that form anymore and I was seeking it. Desperately.

An image: An early morning, together with my coach, Roy Aguayo, on a track somewhere north of L.A. At all the Olympic venues the party was continuing but this track was empty. There was one lonely runner, Roy and me, and some guy who told us we couldn’t work out there. We were Olympians and the track was not secured. Too dangerous for us to be there. Prohibited. Did we tell him to go to hell? I think so.

The discus: Flying off to the right, out of the sector, time after time. Frustration, anger, fear, tears. And Roy kept calm and gave me one of his rare speeches.

The (Olympic) Village was a real village. By the time I got there (I had watched the opening at home, in Arizona) athletes were already acquainted and had started their Olympic family. I felt like a stranger.

In front of the village every day were hundreds of Americans hanging out. Trying to catch a glimpse of a big star, hunting for autographs and selling and trading pins.

Some members of my team got the hang of it and at some point started selling Dutch Olympic pins for $25 apiece. Not without embarrassment, however. Making $25 on a lousy Olympic pin is something a Dutchman cannot comprehend.

The stadium: Waves of American people and American flags come to my mind. ‘The Star Spangled Banner.’ I couldn’t stay put, the three times it was played while I was competing.

My doctor had told me that to control my nerves, I had to keep moving between throws. Stretch, drill, jog, jump up and down--anything to get my mind off the pressure. I must have been the only person in the Coliseum who didn’t pay attention to the winners. Not very polite, not very nice--you’re right. But I couldn’t end up second, I just couldn’t.

After the competition I relaxed. Enjoyed. I spent the evening at a Mexican joint that, unfortunately, doesn’t exist anymore. Friends were with me, American friends. Some songs come to my mind now, “Illegal Alien” and “Margaritaville.”

Images.