100 DAYS TO THE OLYMPICS : Different Look : Carl Lewis Has Always Been Great, but He Didn’t Always Have a Great Reputation; Now He’s Finding the ‘90s Are Fun

Carl Lewis has shown us as many faces through the years as he has hairstyles.

Ten years ago, he was a shy, polite young man from New Jersey who sat in hotel lobbies while traveling a European circuit that was still new to him and mostly listened as others talked about his sport, content simply to be part of track and field’s labyrinthine world.

Later, he was a megastar who hid the discomfort he felt from the glare of public scrutiny behind dark sunglasses, outlandish uniforms and forced bravado. Then, he was a crusader who lashed out against the use of performance-enhancing drugs by his competitors and, equally pervasive in the sport, administrative incompetence.

Today, at 30, Lewis is a mature veteran of wars on and off the track, more secure with his place in the world athletically and personally and, finally, respected, if not yet quite loved, for both.

It is a peculiarity of human nature--or at least the nature of the media--that puts athletes in this country on a pedestal, knocks them off and then composes rhapsodies for them when they rise

again. It happened with Muhammad Ali in boxing, Jimmy Connors in tennis, Kareem Abdul-Jabbar in basketball and, in track and field, with Lewis.

For years in Europe and Japan, Lewis has been considered the predominant Olympian of our time, even--some say--of all time, but it has been only in the last year that he has felt similar appreciation at home.

“People got used to me,” he says, responding with a flip answer during a telephone conversation this week from his Houston home.

Later, in a more serious vein, he acknowledges that, like the start-finish line on the track, the end of his career is beginning to resemble the beginning, complete with the challenges, the accolades and the pure joy of competing for the sake of competition.

“People ask, ‘Why are you still in the sport?’ ” he says. “I’m still in it because I enjoy it. That’s the way it started for me. The middle of my career, the mid-to-late ‘80s, was for setting up my future. But, now, the money part is straight. I’m set for life. The ‘90s are for fun.

“I never thought I’d be running in the ‘90s. Now, people are saying ’96. That’s bizarre. But I’m more open about it. I’m not going to mention a period for retirement any more because I keep getting better.”

His 1992 outdoor season will begin in earnest with the Mazda Mt. SAC Relays at Walnut on Saturday, when he is entered in the 100 meters and, along with Santa Monica Track Club teammates Leroy Burrell, Mike Marsh and Mark Witherspoon, the 400-meter relay. (The meet begins today with community college competition, continues Friday with high school competition and the distance carnival and closes Saturday with an invitational.)

Lewis is optimistic that 100 days from now, when the Summer Olympics open at Barcelona, Spain, he will be prepared for more success, which, for him, means three or four gold medals. He won four in 1984 at Los Angeles and added two more, plus a silver, in 1988 at Seoul. He could have had a third gold medal there were it not for a muddled 400-meter relay situation that resulted in the U.S. team’s elimination before he stepped onto the track.

At various times during the last four years, he has spoken about limiting himself to three events in 1992, concentrating on the 100 meters, the long jump and the 400-meter relay and dropping the 200. But, in recent weeks, he has adopted a more ambiguous attitude.

“At first, I said, ‘No way,’ ” he says. “Now, it’s a possibility. If I win all three (individual) events in the trials (in late June at New Orleans), I’ll think about it. The only way I’ll enter all four events is if I feel I can win them.”

Since he won all four at Los Angeles, the progression in his individual events has been such that his 1984 times of 9.99 seconds in the 100 and 19.80 in the 200 and his long jump of 28 feet 1/4 inches might not earn him a bronze medal at Barcelona.

“To win in Barcelona, you’ll need at least 9.83 in the 100, 29 feet in the long jump and probably under 19.75 in the 200,” he says. “The difference in the competition between 1984 and now is like night and day.”

Lewis proved to the track and field world last year that he was equal to the challenge. More important, he proved it to himself.

“When Leroy (Burrell) ran 9.90 to set the world record (in the 100 meters in June at New York), that put what I had to do in perspective,” he says. “I told myself, ‘Right now, we’re going to find out if you can still do it. If not, life moves on and you move on to other arenas.’ ”

In the World Championships 10 weeks later at Tokyo, Burrell ran 9.88, but it was good only for second place. Lewis emerged with the world record of 9.86. He had held the world record, but that resulted from a second-place finish at Seoul after the winner, Canadian Ben Johnson, was suspended because of a positive drug test for steroids. At Tokyo, Lewis grasped the only achievement in the event that had eluded him, an untainted individual world record.

Five days later, Lewis met with the most excruciating disappointment of his career but one that also defined the challenge of the future for him.

For years, he had been the world’s premier long jumper, the owner of a 10-year, 65-meet winning streak, and was considered the only one capable of breaking Bob Beamon’s world record of 29-2 1/2, which had stood since 1968.

Instead, it was another American, 1988 Olympic silver-medalist Mike Powell, who jumped ahead of Beamon with a leap of 29-4 1/2.

Still, it is a tribute to Lewis’ competitiveness that no one counted him out until after the last of his six jumps. And on a night that clearly belonged to Powell, it was impossible to overlook the fact that Lewis had three jumps of 29 feet or farther, only one of which was wind-aided.

“I knew the record was going to go that night,” Lewis says. “I decided that if I broke it and won the world championship, I was going to retire from the long jump. That was said and done. All I needed to do was do it.

“When I went 29-2 3/4 (wind-aided) on my third jump, it was, ‘Yeah, that’s it. You’re putting on a clinic.’ Then, Mike jumped 29-4 1/2. No problem. In my mind, I knew I was going to jump farther. No doubt in my mind. It was going to be a great way to go out. Then, I didn’t do it.

“Coach (Tom) Tellez came up to me afterward and said: ‘Those were incredible jumps. No more?’ I said, ‘Hey, I’m going to do a lot more.’ ”

Lewis’ manager, Joe Douglas of Santa Monica, says that Lewis is more committed to the long jump than he has been since the early ‘80s.

“I didn’t want to see Carl lose, but it was a blessing in disguise,” he says.

“I was hoping that he wouldn’t quit because I don’t feel he’s reached his potential. Now, I think we’re going to see some very long jumping from him.”

“In my mind,” Lewis says, “I think I’ve got to jump 29 feet every time.”

In the future, the World Championships at Tokyo might be remembered as the most significant 10 days in Lewis’ career because that meet served not only to motivate him for this season and perhaps beyond but also to establish his place in history.

Considering his world record in the 100, his incredible long jump series and the world record that he, Burrell, Dennis Mitchell and Andre Cason set in the 400-meter relay on the meet’s final day, Track & Field News, despite Powell’s performance, called the World Championships “The Carl Lewis Show.” Sieg Lindstrom wrote a column for the magazine headlined: “Lewis The Greatest Ever?”

That question will be debated regardless of whether Lewis wins four, or even eight, more gold medals. The fact is that he feels more appreciated than ever. One indicator is that, after developing a high endorsement profile in Japan, he has been recruited as the spokesman for Panasonic’s advertising campaign in the United States. “It’s the biggest U.S. deal I’ve had,” he says.

He also has scored points with the media, although that game is never over.

“From the public’s standpoint, I don’t notice any difference at all because I think Carl’s always been popular,” Douglas says.

“But I have definitely noticed a change in the way the media perceive him. When he was younger, he was constantly under attack, whether it was ‘you’re a homosexual’ or ‘you’re arrogant’ or ‘you’re this, that and the other.’ Those things don’t come up any more. There’s more emphasis on his performance, the stands he’s taken.

“He’s changed, too. He’s still the same person inside that he was when I met him in 1980, but he’s more mature.”

Lewis is relieved to be out of the media’s firing line, but he says he is more proud of his improved relationship with other athletes. Although some still prefer to travel in a different circle, all are impressed not only by his talent but also his work ethic.

“To be getting those results at his age, he has to be outworking everybody else,” says sprinter Dennis Mitchell, 26, who finished third in the 100 at Tokyo. “He’s the reason I’m working eight or nine hours a day this year instead of four or five.”

Lewis says most of his feuds in the early ‘80s resulted from jealousy, a fire that was stoked by the money that, for the first time, was legally available to the sport’s athletes. “It’s more of a professional sport now,” he says. “Everyone has a better perspective.”

Also, he says, there is less “mudslinging” because there no longer is as much suspicion among athletes concerning drugs.

“Random testing has made a big difference,” he says. “In the 100 at Tokyo, I’d bet the farm that everyone in the final was clean. There may have been one drug-user in the top 20.

“I can’t say that about any other big meet I’ve been in. Of course, Ben (Johnson) was in most of those. But there were others using drugs. Now, I think the sprints are clean. That has created a completely different atmosphere. It’s refreshing.”

So he and the sport have changed. His evolution, he promises, will continue, although he has no plans to stop designing and wearing the gaudy uniforms. Fortunately, it is a matter of style, not substance.

* CONTROVERSY: Museum figure in Spain causes uproar. C7