Three things we know about the 1992 Barcelona Olympics: thanks to the miracle of pay-per-view TV, we’ll be able to see Peru vs. Iceland in synchronized swimming without fear of commercial interruption; Carl Lewis is already thinking about which outfit to wear; and no matter what he selects, or how synchronized the swimmers, the U.S. basketball team will steal the show. For these are the first Games in which professional hoopsters will be officially permitted. In certain Easternbloc countries where pros have played for years, the ruling won’t mean much in terms of team composition; they already have their Saint Mikhails and Magic Divacs. America is a different story. Instead of relying on college players-who got only a bronze medal in ‘88-the United States can now shop for NBA superstars. And then, in theory, romp to the gold, as in days of old. Remember Crocodile Dundee saying “That’s not a knife; this is a knife”? Well, world, these are pros: Michael Jordan, Magic Johnson, Patrick Ewing, Karl Malone, Charles Barkley. In February, when Sports Illustrated put that Olympic dream team on its cover, and mentioned backups such as David Robinson, it seemed an impossibly delicious prospect.
Last week we found out it was. Jordan – America’s best player and its most powerful symbol of athletic excellence-said he won’t be on the roster when the team is announced on national TV this Sept. 21. Speaking between rounds of an amateur golf tournament, the Chicago Bulls star said he was merely trying to share the wealth of the Olympic experience. Jordan won a gold medal in ‘84, while at the University of North Carolina, and, he said, “I don’t mind giving the other guys an opportunity.” Meanwhile, Robinson’s lawyer was using nuanced language to describe his client’s position. “Conceptually, David is very enthusiastic about playing,” Lee Fentress said. “The only complication is time.” The strapping center does have a demanding schedule. Besides having played at least eight months for the Spurs when the Olympic camp opens, he will be facing a month’s Naval Reserve duty. Now in San Diego fulfilling that obligation, Robinson is said to be “trying to find a way to do it.”
Magic Johnson seems to be trying to find a way to contain his enthusiasm. “Oh, yes, I’ll be playing in the Olympics,” Johnson told reporters in Spain last week. “As long as I don’t get cut.” Olympic coach Chuck Daly, normally of the Detroit Pistons, wouldn’t dream of doing that. Josh Rosenfeld, the director of international public relations for the NBA, says that Magic, who never played in the Olympics, “couldn’t be more gung-ho, and his enthusiasm may influence others.” So may the $3 million deal Johnson cut with a Barcelona-based meat company that hopes to capitalize on his Olympics exposure. “No doubt many players are considering the commercial possibilities,” says David Falk, attorney for Jordan and Ewing. The public-relations benefits can’t be overlooked, either. Ewing, who just lost a contract dispute with the Knicks, and tarnished his image in the process, has emerged as a leading Olympic aspirant. “Patrick is eager to play,” says Falk. So, apparently, is Bulls forward Scottie Pippen, who reportedly got a call from NBA commissioner David Stern urging him to go for the gold.
Stern’s personal concern is understandable, considering what these Games will mean to the NBA’s effort to broaden its market at home and abroad.But that’s not the way the system is supposed to work. In theory, a committee composed of pro and college experts is selecting a 12-man team (probably 10 pros and two college players) that is both suited to the more spreadout international game and willing to play. In deference to the NBA stars, the usual 10 weeks of training camp has been reduced to five, and the team will be staying in firstclass hotels instead of the usual spartan accommodations. Beyond that there are no frills or inducements. The committee insists on dealing directly with players, not their agents or teams, both of whom tend to grumble about the risk of injury.
Jordan seems to have a more curious concern. “Michael is worried,” says Falk, “that we may be overreacting to the world catching up to us in basketball. He feels that by having so many NBA stars, it’s like trying to solve a small conflict with nuclear warheads.” Jordan’s hope, Falk says, is that an additional college player will get the spot he vacated, and that the U.S. team will be less dominant and perhaps more beloved for being so. At the same time, however, there are authorities-like Larry Bird, who has excused himself because of age (34) and a bad back-who don’t see the United States as a shoo-in. Celtics senior executive Dave Gavitt agrees: apart from the possibility of clashing egos, he says, “Our guys are used to the pace of a 48-minute game, not the 40-minute games in the Olympics.” Of course, one could analyze and agonize until the closing ceremonies. Or one could keep it simple, in the manner of Utah Jazz forward Karl Malone. “If I could go five times I’d go,” says Malone. “You don’t want to look back and say, ‘I had a chance to serve my country and I didn’t take it’.” Earth to Air Jordan: come in, come in.
