Phelps Has Plenty to Ponder

It was not a world record, or an Olympic trials record, or a number you would find on any soggy clipboard or splotchy watch.

Yet it may have been the most important time this week.

Twenty-two minutes, 30 seconds.

That was how long it took Gary Hall Jr. to complete his victory march around the pool at the Long Beach aquatic center Tuesday.

The fastest swimmer, the slowest embrace, a granted wish out of water.

His vintage red-white-and-blue boxing robe cinched around his waist, the “Celebration” song blaring over the loudspeakers, the newly crowned 50-meter freestyle champion took off his goggles and welcomed in the world.

He stopped to slap tiny hands that disappeared in his giant palm.

He paused to sign every wet scrap with every runny pen.

He posed for photos with strangers. He hung his gold medal around the neck of friends. He climbed into the stands, for the second time this night, to hug his wife.

It was the last ceremony of the day. The place was half-empty. Soon, the music stopped. The ushers cleared sections. The cameras were turned off.

But Hall, who is to swimming what cannonballs are to diving, was just getting started.

He paused to ask kids whether they swam. He thanked their parents for coming.

When he reached his final autograph seeker, he apologized.

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” he said.

Then he pulled a squirt gun out of his belt and showered a group of howling teens.

When the lap ended, he was met by his father, ex-Olympian Gary Hall, an emotional moment for two men soon to be the only father-son team to appear in three Olympics each.

He gave the old man a noogie.

The father laughed.

“He’s a breath of fresh air for a sport that’s dull and boring for long periods of time,” he said.

The son shrugged.

“These are the people that share a passion that I have.... I want to let them know that ... it’s the right thing to do,” he said.

That breath blew through the trials Tuesday in 21.91, the fastest time in the world this year, but that’s not all the 7,765 folks here will remember.

They’ll remember the star-spangled boxing trunks he wore over his suit, revealed after he dramatically removed his robe.

They’ll remember how he kissed, then flexed, his biceps when he was introduced.

They’re probably still talking about how, after he finished about one stroke quicker than rival Jason Lezak, Hall jumped out of the pool and on to a starters’ block and raised his fists.

And nobody in the west stands will forget how, soaking wet and barefoot, he walked into the bleachers to hug his weeping wife, Elizabeth, and hang out with his family.

“Gary loves it now more than ever,” she said.

At age 29, fighting diabetes, Athens being his final big meet, Hall deserves it more than ever.

For years, he has taken the flippers off the swimming world and turned it into a sport of humans.

With rumpled-towel hair and a 50-meter smile, he is that rare swimmer unafraid to rub the chlorine out of his eyes.

Just this week, he has said what many are thinking by ripping Marion Jones in her steroid controversy.

Then he rented a plane to pull a sign promoting his swimming company.

Then his manager, in comparing Hall with his 50-meter competitor Lezak, said it was like comparing Michael Jordan to Spud Webb.

As one could imagine, on Tuesday night, Lezak was one mashed potato.

“What [Hall] does is not good or bad for the sport,” Lezak said. “[Michael] Phelps and Natalie [Coughlin] are bringing attention to the sport.”

Except, of course, that Hall is the defending co-gold medalist in the 50 meters in the Olympics, and he’s won four gold medals in two years, so it’s not just glitz.

“That’s not me,” said Lezak, “I’m kind of more laid-back. I don’t do anything to draw attention to myself. I just try to go out and swim fast.”

Swimming fast is good, as Hall can attest, seeing as he still holds the American record for the 50-meter free.

But if swimming is ever to thrive in the three years between Olympics, it will do so not only because of seven gold medals, but because of seven gold memories.

Did we say that when Hall finally walked to the warm-down pool, he did not jump in like every other competitor?

He was too busy posing for a giant group photo with all the little red-shirted kids who have served as swimming aides.

Kids with rumpled-towel hair, 50-meter smiles, and flexed biceps.

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Bill Plaschke can be reached at bill.plaschke@latimes.com. To read previous columns by Plaschke, go to latimes.com/plaschke.