The Hype

And now, a very special moment with Gary Hall Jr.
By Jack Barth

They're as wholesome as apple pie and about as predictable as a TV docudrama, and--yep--they're back for their quadrennial stroll through our collective consciousness. You know, those briskly packaged vignettes that usher the personal stories of Olympic athletes into our living rooms and our hearts. Sure, some of the stories are legitimately inspiring and heroic-but only some. Herewith, a sneak peek at Up Close and Personal moments that will prompt tears, smiles, and the hurried replacement of the batteries in your remote control.

Grandpa Is Not a Crook
Gary Hall Jr. is not the likeliest candidate for sympathy. After all, he's been genetically engineered for swimming greatness. The 21-year-old Hall, the country's best sprinter, is 6-foot-6 and 185 pounds. His father was a three-time Olympian who broke ten world records. His mother was a national-class swimmer. And her father was a national champion. But then, Gramps is also one of the most reviled--or as Hall puts it, misunderstood--white-collar felons in American history: Charles Keating, the light-fingered Mr. Big of the Lincoln Savings & Loan scandal. "I really believed he had a strong case," says Hall. "But I also had this feeling of helplessness." As if that hardship were not difficult enough to bear, Hall has also had to perform under the hypercritical thumb of a father who shakes his head and tags Junior as a "chains and leather" guy. Being misunderstood, it seems, must run in the family.

What a Long, Strange
Post-Cold War Era It's Been
In 1992, they emerged from under the paw of Soviet domination to gain the unlikely sponsorship of the Grateful Dead and nab the bronze medal at the Barcelona Games. Indeed, compared with the Dream Team juggernaut, Lithuania's court jousters were downright lovable. So why has the squad turned melancholy? The untimely death of friend and confidant Jerry Garcia, of course. To honor their portly rock-and-rolling benefactor-whose donation of $5,000 and a box of Dead T-shirts helped get the team to Barcelona-the Lithuanians will wear black patches on their jerseys in Atlanta. Fortunately, though, tragedy hasn't kept them from focusing on the bottom line: While the '92 squad had to struggle to make ends meet, this year's version found financial security through the ballyhooed launch of its tie-dyed singlet at San Francisco's Hard Rock Caf‹ and a toll-free order line (888-633-DEAD).

I Regret That I Have
Given But One Finger....
As the Olympic year dawned, 29-year-old water polo player Kyle Kopp put his woodworking business on hold to train for the Games. But when teammate Chris Oeding asked Kopp to build him a coffee table, the aquatic athlete acquiesced. With a January afternoon off, he decided to "whip it right out." Using a table saw, he promptly lopped a quarter-inch off the tip of his left index finger. Kopp, who'd been impressive in matches against Russia just before the accident, hopes to overcome the injury in time for the Games. As for that Coffee Table of Doom: "I stacked it up and put it away. I'll finish it in August and sell it to someone else."

Beauty Is Only About
One Fathom Deep
"There's a lot more to our sport than our butts," says Nathalie Schneyder. Doth the splashdancer protest too much? The dirty little secret about synchronized swimming is that almost all its participants are active practitioners of looksism--particularly their own looks. Schneyder, 28, is campaigning to stop the insanity, going so far as to reveal the painful fact that she has flirted with bulimia herself. "I tried throwing up a couple of times in high school," she now lectures youngsters, "but I learned that I didn't like doing it, and it wasn't smart." So how, you may ask, does Schneyder intend to use the Olympic spotlight to further her crusade? By posing in the buff--"for the sake of art"--with a group of other Olympians for a recent issue of Life magazine. "It was like the statue of David," she explains. "To show the physiques, but not to be raunchy."