The year was 1980. It marked the beginning of a new decade.
For the Olympics, though, it was more of the same. The black eye
that the Games had been dealt by the previous decade continued on
unabated. The 1972 Summer Games in Munich, Germany, were sullied by
the murder of 11 Israeli athletes by Arab terrorists. The 1976
Summer Games in Montreal suffered when 32 nations boycotted largely
because of accusations of doping by the East German team. And in
1980 the Games took a major hit when President Carter announced
that the United States would not participate in the Moscow event
following Soviet occupation of Afghanistan. Some athletes’
dreams for Olympic gold were dashed forever. But two UCLA athletes
at least were fortunate enough to have their hopes only postponed
for four years.
Curry’s Postponement Denise Curry’s
dreams began to come true in 1978 when she first arrived at UCLA as
one of the nation’s most highly touted basketball recruits.
“I guess at about 15 or 16, (UCLA) kind of became a dream
school in my mind,” Curry said. After two years in
Westwood, during which she also played on the Bruins’ first
national championship softball team, Curry’s dreams began to
move to the international stage. But they were soured when Carter
announced the U.S. boycott of the 1980 games. “It was
extremely disappointing,” Curry said. “I made the team.
We won the Olympic prequalifying tournament.” The team had
known there was a strong possibility their effort would be for
naught. And though Curry and her teammates held out a glimmer
of hope, the widening gap between the United States and the Soviet
Union proved impenetrable. “So, we were all set to go up
until the last minute, when Carter didn’t change his
mind,” Curry said. “It was really disappointing.
I’m more disappointed for some of my teammates, for whom that
was kind of their one shot.” Fortunately for Curry, it
wasn’t her only shot. Curry went on to become the 1981 UCLA
athlete of the year and then won a gold medal at the Pan-American
Games in 1983. She finally had the honor and thrill of making her
trip to the Olympics in 1984. “Just to represent your country
at that level of competition “¦ it’s just
overwhelming,” she said. “It’s something
that you’ll keep forever and something that you’ll
share forever, especially in a team sport.” Back in Los
Angeles, close to her hometown crowd, she finally was able to stand
on the podium draped in Olympic gold. “The Star-Spangled
Banner” played in recognition of America’s first gold
medal in women’s basketball. “It’s such an
overwhelming feeling to know that you’re representing the
United States,” Curry said. “You just can’t top
that.”
Peter Vidmar’s Journey Peter Vidmar
vividly remembers being denied the opportunity to compete at the
1980 Summer Games. The months, weeks and days leading up to the
Moscow Summer Games passed amid a balancing act between capitalism
and communism in the world comparable to one of Vidmar’s
routines. “In 1980, my goal really was first just to make an
Olympic team,” Vidmar said. “My goal was just to
get on that team and say you’re an Olympian and hope for the
best.” Although the best was yet to come for Vidmar and
men’s gymnastics, it still would be four years away.Â
When Carter pressured the United States Olympic Committee to
withdraw from the games in April, Vidmar’s Olympic portrait
was still far from complete. Though he knew future Games
opportunities would come around, it was his teammates’
unfinished picture that really affected the young Bruin.
“Although I was disappointed, I think it was much more
devastating for my teammates. “¦ Really, this was their only
chance,” Vidmar said. Making the situation even tougher for
the men’s gymnastics team was its disagreement with the final
decision to boycott the Games. For most of the 1980 Olympians,
politics was an unrelated matter. Communism and capitalism had no
place in this international competition. The only red they
knew was the anger and disappointment over not competing on the
Olympic platform. “Everybody that I knew was against the
boycott,” Vidmar said. “We’re always told
at the Olympic Games not to mix politics and sports. At least
they try to make a statement that you shouldn’t do
that. [But] our president chose to do that.” The Cold
War mentality seemed to define the public’s perception
leading up to the Games. “I think it was easy to have good
guys and bad guys while the Cold War was going on,” Vidmar
said. “I don’t see the athletes as involved in
that because I built friendships with the Soviet and the Chinese
gymnasts, and those friendships have stayed. “That kind of
rises above sport, which I think is the whole statement that the
Olympic Games can make.” Not surprisingly, with the United
States absent from the Moscow Games, the Soviet Union and East
Germany took six gold medals in the eight men’s individual
and team gymnastics events. Vidmar’s only consolation was
knowing the competition that others considered the enemy. “I
wanted to beat the Russians, of course,” Vidmar
said. “I wanted to beat the Chinese, but I admired them
as athletes and people.” The awe quickly wore off when Vidmar
and his teammates realized they would have to beat the Russians and
the Chinese in the following Olympiad. The valuable lessons Vidmar
and his teammates learned merely from observing Soviet and Chinese
counterparts enabled the United States to break through in
1984. “We used to go to big events and watch the
Chinese and Russians do great gymnastics “¦ and run back home
and learn it,” Vidmar said. “By the time we
reached maturity in our sport, we were doing things that were new
and were unique, and we were establishing ourselves as a world
power in gymnastics.” Vidmar quickly became a great gymnast
himself. After capturing the NCAA All-Around title in 1983, he
was notified of his second Olympic invitation, this time in front
of a hometown crowd in Los Angeles. At Pauley Pavilion, where he
spent so many of his nights training, Vidmar felt truly at home at
the 1984 games. The waiting, learning, hard work and hometown
atmosphere certainly paid off when Vidmar earned a gold medal on
the pommel horse and narrowly missed out on a second gold medal in
the all-around. Vidmar also helped to notch the United
States’ first team men’s gymnastics medal with his
sterling performance at Pauley. “For the first time, I think
we honestly believed we could beat these guys,” he
said. “We believed it in our hearts, and that showed in
our performances. We went out there, really fearless, ready to
show the world the best gymnastics we could do. And we
did.” Vidmar’s winning performances in 1984 averaged a
9.89 score, making him the highest-scoring U.S. male gymnast in
Olympic history. It helped to earn him an induction into the
USOC Olympic Hall of Fame and the International Gymnast Hall of
Fame. “It was pretty incredible,” he saidÂ
“I’m in a pretty small fraternity, so I kind of pinch
myself [to make sure] that actually happened.” Vidmar now
serves as one of the chairs on a summit for summer Olympic sports,
which has enabled him to be in Athens, Greece, this week to
evaluate the future of men’s gymnastics. The 1980 Olympics
may have never been for the United States, but they are not
forgotten. Each time Curry and Vidmar focus on the luster of their
Olympic gold, the memories of their teammates from 1980 shine even
more brightly.