BARCELONA ’92 OLYMPICS / DAY 9 : Judo Politics Throw Okada for a Big Loss

It was the judo equivalent of a nine-inning double shutout. No waza-aris , no yukos , no kokas .

Stanton’s Tony Okada knelt on the mat, awaiting the referees’ decision. He was certain he’d outfought his first-round opponent, Philippe Pradayrol of France. He’d been the aggressor. He’d initiated the better attacks.

The first referee he spotted, the Canadian referee, agreed. Up went the white flag, corresponding to Okada’s identification belt.

But the next thing Okada noticed was the French rooting section whooping and yelling and waving the wrong red, white and blue flag.

Behind Okada’s back, two other referees were holding up red flags.

Both referees were from Europe.

Welcome, Tony, to the world of Olympic judo.

Welcome and see you later.

The Soviet Union has been splintered and declawed, the Germanys have been merged and South Africa has been re-admitted, but politics continue to encroach upon the Olympics, only much more subtly now.

“In my opinion, Tony won the match,” said Yoshisada Yonezuka, the United States men’s judo coach. “But look who the referees were. One was Pan American, and he went with Tony. The other two were European and they went for the Frenchman.

“It can happen. When a match is as close as this one, the referees are prepared to give it to their own people.”

Just Okada’s luck of the draw. At Palau Blaugrana Sunday evening, different combinations of referees were rotated in and out with every match in the Olympic extra lightweight tournament. The combinations are selected at random.

“Just as easily, it could have been two Pan Americans and one European,” Yonezuka said.

And if that had been the case?

“Oh, he would have won,” observed Mike Swain, Okada’s teammate and a lightweight bronze medalist in 1988.

“It’s sad,” Swain continued. “He’s a 19-year-old kid who doesn’t understand any of that. Right now, he thinks the world has come to an end. I know how he feels. I’ve been him before.”

Actually, Okada had more than a clue as to what had just transpired.

“I guess the referees figured (Pradayrol) had been there before,” Okada said. “I’m the newcomer. I really haven’t been anywhere. No one knows me.”

But for Okada, that wasn’t the worst of it. To quote international judo enthusiast Tom Petty, the waiting is the hardest part.

Olympic judo is a quasi-double-elimination sport. If you lose in the first round, you could be out of the tournament--or you could be headed for a bronze medal. Everything depends on the guy who beats you. If he advances to the semifinals, he “carries” you along with him, into what is known as the repechage --which is French for “Stand around and cross your fingers for two hours.”

From to 5:10 to 7:10 p.m, Okada was thusly occupied. He needed Pradayrol to win three more matches, so he stood on the concourse, warm-ups on, waiting and watching.

Pradayrol beat someone from Yemen.

Pradayrol beat someone from Turkey.

Pradayrol had only one man to beat, Richard Trautmann of Germany.

Trautmann quickly jumped ahead on points, then grabbed Pradayrol by the lapels and gave him a mighty heave. Ippon! flashed across the scoreboard, along with a graphic of Cobi the Olympic mascot, right arm raised in triumph.

Match over. Trautmann wins.

Okada was eliminated, done for the night, finished after two hours of water torture.

He headed straight for an empty practice room and found a trainer’s table. He needed to lie down.

When he re-emerged, reporters located Okada at a concession stand ordering dos cervezas, por favor . Okada may be 19, but it had been that kind of night and teen-agers do drink in Barcelona and when you’re in Barcelona . . .

“I thought for sure he would beat all those guys,” Okada said of Pradayrol, a finalist at this year’s European Championships. “I was ready to wrestle again.

“All I could think about was all the work I’d put in to get here. All the money my family has spent. I’d been training for this since I was 5.”

Okada comes from rich judo stock; his father Ted is an instructor in Anaheim and his uncle Kenny was a U.S. Olympian at Munich in 1972.

Almost too rich, claims Okada, who said Sunday he is giving up the sport in order to take Cal State Fullerton up on its offer of a full wrestling scholarship.

“I don’t want judo to be my life, the way it has been,” Okada said. “It’s my whole family’s life. Everything our family does has to do with judo. When we’re sitting at home, we’re talking about judo. Or we’re watching judo films.

“I have seen so much (attention) taken away from my sister. She’s 17. She’s happy for me, I know, but (watching Okada compete) is all she has. She has nothing else.”

Okada said he informed his parents of his plans before the Olympics, but this pronouncement came as an unpleasant surprise to Yonezuka.

“I hope he changes his mind,” Yonezuka said. “He has a very good future in judo. He is very coachable, he has a good mind.”

Swain seconded that opinion: “I think he could be the first Olympic judo champion from the United States. He’s only 19 years old and he’s very relaxed out there. A lot of competitors get to the Olympics and all freeze up. Tony stayed very loose and aggressive tonight.”

For the moment, however, Okada insists his mind is set.

“I think wrestling for a scholarship will do more for me,” he said. “You cannot make a living in judo. You can’t in wrestling, either, but wrestling can help give you an education.”

Judo gave Okada one in Barcelona. Sunday, he learned enough to switch to another sport, one that rewards you for outmanning your opponent, instead of outmanning your opponent’s referee.