It’ll Never Be the Same : Three Gold Medalists Reflect on Era That Changed Gymnastics

If they had been born in America, perhaps Nadia Comaneci and Olga Korbut would also have, as prized possessions, glass-encased Wheaties boxes bearing their likeness, as Mary Lou Retton has in her condominium. Surely, they would at least have condominiums.

But Comaneci grew up in Romania under the terrorist reign of dictator Nicolae Ceausescu and was penniless when she escaped from her country three years ago, tramping through mud in darkness with only the clothes she was wearing, leaving behind her nine Olympic gold medals and about 150 other medals.

She feared that there would be repercussions against her family, and even here, in the United States, she feared for herself. It was months before the man who helped her escape could be tricked into setting her free. He held her hostage, Comaneci explained later, demanding money for appearances and telling her what to say at them.

Now at 30, Comaneci is finally free, living here in Venice, working out and trying to free her emotions, which had also been held captive for years.

Korbut was allowed to leave her home in the then-Soviet Union about a year ago, but her heart and mind remain with the victims of the 1986 Chernobyl disaster, many of whom she knows or knew, many of whom she fears will suffer in the future, some of them members of her family. Korbut lived in Byelorussia--now Belarus--about 180 miles from where the nuclear reactor caught fire, exposing millions to radiation.

Korbut, 36, lives in a rented apartment in Atlanta with her husband and 12-year-old son. She is teaching gymnastics and has written a book that she hopes will be out in time for the Barcelona Olympics. It recalls her Olympic performance in Munich 20 years later. Still, she worries about her aging parents, whose pension is not enough to provide food anymore.

“None of us can ever understand what it was like for Nadia and Olga to grow up in their countries,” Retton said. “I am really lucky. God has a big bearhug around me and I thank him every night for my life.”

Of the hundreds of thousands of little girls who spend time in dusty gymnastics classes around the world, no three gymnasts have had more impact on the sport than Korbut, Comaneci and Retton. Thanks in part to TV exposure, they not only changed gymnastics but transcended it, weaving their way into the hearts and minds of people who normally don’t care about the sport.

There isn’t a day that goes by that someone doesn’t recognize them, either on sight or by name. Tonight, they should be easily recognizable when they once again put on leotards and perform at the Forum in a benefit for the U.S. Olympic Committee.

Retton, at 24 still perky, albeit more mature, has pared down her muscle mass for a leaner look. She lives in Houston but travels all over the world as a motivational speaker. Being noticed has become a way of life.

“People look, and they either think they know me right off or they know me and think I’m a friend of their daughter’s or something,” Retton said.

“I have fun with it. Sometimes, especially when I was on the Wheaties box, I would have so much fun going down the cereal aisle in the grocery store. People would look at the box and then look at me, and say, ‘Aren’t you?’ I would say, ‘No, but everybody tells me that I look like her.’ Eventually, I would tell them the truth.”

Since each of these three gymnasts appeared on the Olympic podium, the attention might have slowed but it has never ceased.

In the 1972 Olympics at Munich, a 17-year-old Korbut showed the world that her countrymen did indeed have emotions. She replaced the stoic look with bouncing pigtails and a smile a yard wide. She even cried when she didn’t win the all-around, but few remember who did win--Korbut’s teammate Lyudmila Tourischeva. Korbut finished seventh.

Korbut was clearly the crowd and world favorite in the individual competition, where she won gold medals on the beam and floor routine, and a silver on the uneven bars.

“I think I brought a new gymnastics to the world in all ways,” Korbut said through an interpreter. She can speak English but can express herself better in her native tongue.

“I feel that at that time, gymnastics was not very interesting and I made it more interesting so more people would gravitate to it.

“But the impact? I couldn’t believe how everybody knew who I was after that. I can just remember there were so many gifts in my room (at the Olympics) that there was little room for me.”

When Korbut returned home, she was required by the Soviet government to travel extensively for exhibition performances. She said that she continually told government officials how tired she was, but it didn’t matter because they got paid for her performances. At the 1976 Olympics in Montreal, she was exhausted. It was time for a 14-year-old newcomer named Nadia.

In Romania, before leaving for Montreal, Comaneci said that she was convinced that she could not beat Korbut, but wished, “if it were possible to bring home a medal.”

She brought home three golds, two silvers and a bronze. Moreover, she not only was the first gymnast to score a perfect 10, she scored seven of them. She was daring and exciting to watch. Seemingly fearless, she had two dangerous moves on the uneven bars named after her.

“I finished my routine and I thought it was one of the best, and that maybe I would get a 9.9,” she said.

“Then I went back and started to prepare myself mentally for the beam routine. I wasn’t looking for the score and I heard the crowd explode. I looked up at the board and I saw a 1.0, because the scoreboard didn’t go to 10, and I didn’t get why the crowd was so wild. But then I got it and I waved and smiled to the crowd. Bela (Karolyi, then her coach) came over and hugged me, and then he said, ‘Remember, you have to do the beam, so cut!’ ”

Karolyi, who coached Comaneci in Romania before he defected to the United States, also coached Retton in 1984.

Comaneci says she was not prepared for the impact she made. When she returned home to Bucharest, she said, so many people met her plane at the airport she was afraid to get off.

“I kept looking for my mom in the crowd, because she did not go to the Olympics,” she said. “And I remember I was carrying this doll that a fan had once given me. And I loved that doll. I held it tight but in the crowd its leg got knocked off and it lost an arm, and I kept saying, ‘Mom, Mom, my doll. . . . ‘

“I could not believe the attention. People would come and stand in front of my house just to visit it. It happened the entire year and it was overwhelming for me. Now, it all seems like 100 years ago.”

Comaneci is much more open than when she arrived here three years ago. Much of her once-tough exterior is gone, she laughs a lot and is very talkative. Yet, some of the mystery remains. Disney has bought the rights to her life story, which she says will “finally tell my story, even some things my mother does not know.

“I know I was often criticized for not smiling in Montreal, but I am not the type of person who jumps around,” Comaneci said. “I was not used to exteriorizing too much. But the mystique was brought about by the people, it was not me trying to make it that way.

“I was with Mary Lou at Bela’s ranch recently for a party and there were guitars and dancing. Mary Lou was singing and smiling and having so much fun. She’s crazy. And I learned from her that I need to be more open, like her.”

Sounds fair, for Retton said it was Comaneci who inspired her to greatness. To her sport, Retton brought a new athletic style, based on power and speed. She was one of the first women to perform a double-back somersault in a layout position in her floor exercise routine, which is a men’s tumbling skill. And she did it all with that smile.

“The way the Olympic competition in Los Angeles ended with my needing a perfect 10 on the vault and getting it to win the gold for the all-around, I couldn’t help the way I acted,” Retton said. “I knew when I stuck that vault I could get that 10 if the judges gave me the score, and I went nuts. I watch the tape now and I think, ‘Oh my God, look how I acted.’

“Since then, they passed a rule that gymnasts cannot show emotion on the podium (floor). They call it the Mary Lou rule. It’s similar to pro football, where you can’t spike the ball and you can’t dance in the end zone after a touchdown.”

Retton was the first American woman to win the gold medal in the all-around competition, and she has been in demand ever since. She endorses several products, makes appearance, writes guest columns and commands top dollar as a motivational speaker. Her speeches are booked by the prestigious Washington Speakers Bureau, and she gives about five monthly.

At her wedding to former University of Texas football player Shannon Kelley in 1990, there were 800 guests, including many of her teammates from 1984.

“I’m a happy person and a very fortunate person for all the things that have happened to me in my life, and I show it, I guess,” Retton said. “I’m amazed that after eight years, it’s still like this. I know I’m really lucky.”