His Legacy Is More Than a Medal Here or There

The boats are sleeker and the paddles are better, but the arms are four years older.

Greg Barton, the only U.S. kayaker to win two gold medals in one Olympics, was curious to see how the combination would play on the flatwater at Canal Olimpic.

Fast was how it played.

Faster than Seoul, when Barton won two Olympic gold medals in two hours.

Faster by 17 seconds in the 1,000-meter singles, faster by 13 seconds in 1,000-meter doubles.

Faster, but not better.

In 1988, singles and doubles times of 3:55.27 and 3:32.42 earned Barton the first two kayaking Olympic gold medals for an American in 36 years.

In 1992, times of 3:37.93 and 3:19.26 got Barton a bronze and a thanks-for-coming.

Beginning the morning on his own, Barton paddled his way to a close third, .67 of a second behind the winner, Clint Robinson of Australia (3:37.26). Ninety minutes later, Barton rejoined Norm Bellingham, his gold-medal partner in ‘88, for the doubles final and finished out of the running, in fourth, more than three seconds behind the German team of Kay Bluhm and Torsten Gutsche (3:16.10).

“The times are definitely faster,” Barton noticed, “and that has to do, mainly, with two things.

“First is the new paddle design (a semi-scoop) that was developed in 1989, after Seoul, by Norway. Soon everybody adopted it.

“The new boats make a small difference, but the training people are getting now is the other significant factor. In the past, the East Germans and the Soviets were so much more advanced with their coaching, their technology and their physiology. Now, the rest of the world has caught up.”

At 32, however, Barton is tired of playing catch-up. He announced before Barcelona that he would retire from competitive flatwater racing after the Olympics and saw nothing Saturday to alter those plans.

“I think I’m starting to get to the upper limit,” Barton said, referring to his age. “In kayaking, 32 is up there.”

Actually, Barton originally thought 28 was on the wrong side of the hill. He tried to retire after Seoul--the perfect way to go out, he thought--but was shamed into a comeback by New Zealand’s Ian Ferguson, who placed eighth in Saturday’s 1,000-meter doubles at age 40.

“When I said in ’88 that this was probably my last race, Ian Ferguson, who’s eight years older than me, told me, ‘I’m still gonna go on. You can’t retire.’ ”

Barton gave it a go, but by 1989, he was reading the small type in the back of the sports section and muttering to himself, “That guy wins the world championships and I beat him.” He missed the time spent on the victory stand. He realized Ferguson, the old Kiwi who just had to keep one oar in the water, just might be right.

From 1990 on, Barton split time between the home office in Bellingham, Wash., where he designs equipment for Ocean Kayak, and Newport Beach, where he trained in preparation for his third Olympics.

Bellingham is his home--and his partner. It can get confusing. A tip: Norm is the one with the blond hair and without the traffic signals. He’s also the one writers flocked to Saturday when attempting to assess Barton’s contribution to kayaking in the United States.

“What’s he given to the sport?” said Bellingham, repeating a reporter’s question. “Good God. Greg’s a legend. I got to paddle in two Olympics with a legend. That’s not too bad. . . .

“Ever since 1984, when Greg won the bronze in Los Angeles, American paddlers now start an Olympics thinking, ‘I can get a medal.’ Before, it was always the East Europeans--people who were from the nether world, who were completely unapproachable.

“Greg made it attainable. He made it more realistic. For years, Americans never thought they had a shot. Now, they go into the Olympics believing they can medal. That’s quite an attitude to have.

“That’s what Greg has given to the sport.”

Barton takes more satisfaction in what he has done to spread the word. From coast to coast, his medals in ’84 and ’88 sent a message: Kayaking isn’t just for Eskimos anymore.

“I’m really happy to see the coverage the sport is getting today,” Barton said. “Before ‘88, hardly anyone had heard of kayaking at home.

“Now, I’m at a race somewhere and I call home and it’s, ‘Hey, they showed highlights on TV tonight,’ or ‘Hey, your picture was in USA Today.’ ”

Barton did for American kayaking what Greg LeMond did for American cycling. He took a fringe sport and made it better. He took his “very small sport,” as he calls it, and shoved it closer to the mainstream, dredging it out of the backwater.

“My roommate, for three Olympics,” Bellingham proudly announced. “I like to think I spurred him on to many great victories. It was my bedtime stories.”

Gold would have been the way to go out, but Barton’s bounce-back ability isn’t what it used to be. Two 1,000-meter races in two hours, with the Germans’ breakthrough carbon boats leading the fleet. At 32, Barton doesn’t recommend it.

“It’s tougher to come back for that second race now,” Barton said. “I’m older and the whole world’s improved since ’88. You saw the times.”

The gold medals are part of Barton’s past, but they are also part of the United States’ future, now that American kayakers have been shown the way.

As legacies go, there are worse ones to leave behind.