By Timothy Carlson

Almost all the pieces of an Ironman masterpiece were in place, a masterpiece defined as that moment in time when several generations of the best athletes on their best day have their best race in the best place.

The 1995 Gatorade Ironman Triathlon World Championship in Hawaii was going to be that dramatic confrontation between the men that usually only computer simulation, Disney animatronics, or imagination can provide us.

It was going to be triathlon's version of Mt. Rushmore, a monument to greatness. Thanks to the limited, 17-year history of the Ironman, nearly every significant player in the history of the men's field would be there at something close to peak potential.

Mark Allen had taken his yearlong sabbatical in 1994 and regrouped with hunger.

Impish trickster Greg Welch finally won the big one and got the unlucky monkey off his back and unleashed his awesome talent.

German first-teamers Jurgen Zack and Thomas Hellriegel discovered a higher degree of pain can be inflicted on the field in the bike when they worked together at Ironman, Germany and still run a fast marathon.

Cristian Bustos of Chile made a miraculous recovery from a life-threatening bike-car crash at a race in Argentina in 1994 and worked himself back into Ironman-champion shape.

Alec Rukosuev of Russia by way of Disney World got better and got healthy.

Pennsylvanians? Jeff Devlin worked on his swimming and Ken Glah got sick, got healthy and figured out how not to bonk.

Pauli Kiuru retreated to Finland and got ready -- he had something to prove.

Germany's second wave of Rainer Muller, Holger Lorenz, Olaf Sabathschus and Lothar Leder were ready to step up.

It would be a dream race.

Then Dave Scott dropped some weights on his toe in January.

Then Dave Scott got hit by a car while riding his bike in Florida. And then Dave Scott, at 41 now, the man with the highest personal standards of performance in Ironman history, knew he wouldn't be ready to join this epic battle.

Ah, too bad. The masterpiece was framed. The titan clash of the generations, the masters and the new-blood, will not happen in its most perfect form, but the 1995 race will still be a classic, albiet with a far less certain outcome. A look back to last year may give a clear view of what to expect this year along Alii Drive.

Mark Allen took a year off in 1994 and many athletes stepped into the vacuum left by the absence of The Grip, the most psychologically dominating figure in the Ironman since Dave Scott retired.

But something funny happened in 1994. Another dominating figure stepped back into the mythic race--Dave Scott came back to the Ironman in Hawaii at age 40 with a better body than the Terminator--and many up and comer triathletes melted under the pressure.

Jurgen Zack seemed ready to dictate the pace and the pain on the bike, but he got sick just before Ironman Hawaii and was subpar. Pauli Kiuru was favored, but was sick on race day and faded badly to a 10:04 finish. Wolfgang Dittrich got an infected leg and did not start. Ken Glah was ready for an all or nothing run but bonked while leading due to a lack of calories on the bike. Jeff Devlin got blown out of the water in the swim and never could quite catch the leaders. Peter Kropko rode too hard and ended up sick in the bushes before he could unleash his 2:39 Ironman run potential.

It ended up a duel between the two coolest hands in the field, the 1994-model Dave Scott and Greg Welch. Welch, the Australian on the rise. Welch knew he had the fastest final 6.2 miles of run in the Ironman field, and played it cool until he put Scott away at the 20-mile mark.

In essence there were two winners: Dave Scott's victory over time and age; he had run faster than any of his six previous victories on one of the hottest days in Ironman history. He was three years older than Carlos Lopes who won an unlikely Olympic marathon at 37. He was about the same age as Mark Spitz when he made his pathetic comeback trying to take the Olympic swimming team. Scott was awesome. So was Welch, whose victory got added luster because he stared down the barrel of the gun aimed by the man who is the toughest mentally prepared athlete ever to race at Kona.

Then, just three days after Welch won and vanquished his self-destructive devils, he slipped while celebrating on water-slick tiles in his condo, breaking his collarbone. We are not talking inevitable dynasty here.