Olga & Co.!

By Gwen Evans

Women Sports, April 1976   America renewed its love affair with Olga Korbut last December.  On her third annual tour here, the Soviet Union's first international young superstar helped to pull back the iron curtain that has veiled the lives and personalities of other Soviet youth since the 1950s.

Fascination with Olga's  effervescent personality makes people wonder what the others in that tight clique, which dominated the gymnastics world, are really like.  In public, the athletes appear aloof, emotionally controlled and very aware that everything they do can have political implications.  Such mental discipline is a vital part of their training and gives them a psychological edge when under the pressures of competition.  But when the mood strikes them, and given a rousing party, beer, vodka and champagne, they change dramatically.  What emerges, especially when compared to Korbut and Ludmila Turischeva, is a curious mixture of midwestern freshness with a heap of Appalachian rambunctiousness, especially in the men.

"This is our last chance to really relax before Montreal," explains Nikolai Andrianov, Olympic and current world men's all-around champion.  "When we go home we face long, hard training and competitions."

So, like average American teenagers, they head for an Atlanta discotheque at the first opportunity.  Olga is the first to the dance floor, in a print blouse, long skirt and high platform boots.  She is followed by Nelli Kim and Raisa Bichukina, both wearing similar outfits.

They dance what looks like the Soviet versions of The Bump and other rock dances, with a bit of gymnastics thrown in.  As is common in the USSR, the girls dance together but Andrianov and Viktor Klimenko, second top man on the team, cut in frequently.  They fit right into the scene until the disco announces their presence and gives them tee-shirts.  Then people recognize them and the autograph siege begins.

On previous tours, teammates seemed to resent all the attention given to Olga.  This time, she appears to be the pacesetter, at least as far as public style is concerned.  And everybody, except Turischeva, shares to some degree in her superstar antics and the rewards of her popularity.

Back at the hotel, Vladimir Marchenko plays a guitar given to the team by some American friends.  Nelli Kim and Raisa Bichukina sing with him.  Since recorded music is not yet so plentiful back home, the athletes often sing -- on the plane, on the buses and in their hotel rooms.  Their voices harmonize some catchy Russian folk and popular tunes.

With food, fruit and beverages from an earlier buffet reception, they hold an impromptu party.  From the lively gab sessions, it's difficult to believe this is the same solemn troupe that blankets itself with impenetrable concentration on the gym floor.  There are tales of romance between top coaches and gymnasts and gossip about up and coming rivals.  But it is clear that the teammates are warm toward each other even though they may be competing against their best friend in a few months.

"Hey, Paata," calls one of the girls to distract Paata Shamugiya, a men's champion.  Then another of the women grabs his arms while the first one zaps him with static electricity from the hotel's carpet.  Anyone who had seen the strength in his arms displayed by his extremely difficult routines on the bars and rings would marvel that the women dare tackle him.  But that's the typical fun-loving physical closeness they enjoy; and the women, who are in top physical health, are a part of it, too.