He Leaves Them at Wit’s End

The joke that Jeff Williams loves to needle Michael Johnson with is this: “The only way he’ll win a gold medal against me is if somebody invents a platinum one.”

It’s trash talk. Track trash talk.

Johnson lets his legs do the talking. But when the fun-loving Williams from Los Angeles kept on kidding him after Sunday’s red-hot 200-meter race, Johnson threw a water bottle cap at him.

It took only 19.66 seconds for Johnson to wipe out a record that existed for 16 years, 10 months, 11 days. In ungodly heat, he ran like Mercury in the mercury, actually more closely resembling a Marvel Comics superhero in his orange unitard and purple shoes.

Williams ran second--a distant second--but did proudly make our Olympic team. So did the Santa Monica Track Club’s gold-medal man of 1992, Michael Marsh, who came in third.

By the time they crossed the finish line, however, Johnson was already mugging for the crowd, mouth agape, arms outstretched, like an NBA player who had just done a thundering dunk. He checked the clock, sensed from everyone’s reaction that his record would count, then knelt by the “19.66” for photographers so they could shoot the moment for posterity.

“Hopefully, my record can stand that long [17 years],” Johnson would say later, “unless I break it.”

A 19.66 for 1996.

It was one for the books, although Johnson immediately proclaimed himself “capable of running 19.5.”

Even his experienced rival, that scamp Jeff Williams, speculated that this new standard of excellence might last, oh, say, another 38 days? The final of the 200 meters at the Atlanta Olympics will be run Aug. 1, and Williams said of the record: “I think it’s going to be short-lived.”

Few human beings have ever moved this fast, without a motor.

For example, know how Leroy Burrell’s world record for the 100-meter dash is 9.85 seconds?

Over twice the distance, Michael Johnson just averaged 9.83 seconds per hundred.

Here’s how swift he was: To his left in Lane 1 ran the great Carl Lewis, in fine form this particular day. In Lane 3 was young Ramon Clay, running a personal best. Beside him ran Marsh, holder of the national record at this distance. On his opposite flank was Williams, the bold and bubbly character born on New Year’s Eve.

Four pairs of really fleet feet.

And Johnson left them behind like they were wearing combat boots.

In the fast lane, Lane 5, Johnson came out of the starting blocks and around the curve with that erect posture of his, not with a low, panther pounce like a Ben Johnson, but as stiff-backed as a man on a unicycle. Johnson even feels this technique costs him a fraction of a second or two, straightening up.

And still he smoked some of the fastest men alive.

Lewis, who won this race at the 1984 Olympics, said, “I don’t know what the record is for Lane 1, but I may have set it today. Mike ran a great race. I take my hat off to him and wish him the best of luck in the Olympics.”

Marsh, who won it at the ’92 Olympics, said, “I had no idea where he was. Maybe it was because he was so far ahead!”

And then there was Williams, who is really having fun playing coyote to Johnson’s roadrunner.

The former Washington High athlete admits that he teases Johnson mainly to amuse himself, and that “sometimes he laughs, sometimes he doesn’t.”

After the race, Williams claimed he and Marsh were responsible for chasing Johnson to the record. When he added that Johnson was accustomed to seeing them on his heels but would eventually see Williams “from the back,” Johnson playfully tossed the plastic bottle cap at him.

He can run and throw. A two-way threat.

The temperature was industrial-strength--108.1 in the sun, 109.6 on the track. The wind was light--1.7 meters per second. The crowd was loud--30,141 strong. And the record was the oldest in track and field, until this cyclone from Texas blew it away.

Johnson wants next to “make Olympic history.”

Williams will be there with him, giving chase.

“Don’t worry,” Williams said. “I have the patience of an oyster.”