Goldengirl

Lee smiled and slowly shook his head. ‘Actually, the reverse is true. If it is affection you crave, you will find it the moment you win your first gold medal. You will be adored by everyone. Think of all the millions whose hopes you will have justified. You are running for America, for the free world, and your achievements will be watched by people sitting in their homes across the world, the largest TV audience ever. For those few days in Moscow, you will be the focus of more pride, more affection, than any individual on this earth. Even the Russians will take you to their hearts, because everyone admires a great athlete. To be Goldengirl is to know that wherever you go there is warmth, admiration, recognition. Let me show you.’ He went to a shelf and took down one of the video-cassettes stacked there. ‘I don’t think you’ve seen this one before.’ He slotted it into the deck to the left of where he was sitting. ‘It’s a tape Dave Robb put together from clips of various Olympic champions. Yes, you’ve seen a lot of them, I know, but this is different. You’ll see why.’

The TV screen on a lower level of the shelf unit flickered. The picture was black and white. An old film, scored with scratches. A blond girl in dark shorts and a white top crossed with a diagonal stripe was streaking to victory in a sprint event.

Goldine identified it at once. ‘Betty Cuthbert winning the hundred in Melbourne, 1956,’ she said, almost in a yawn. ‘I really have seen it before, Sammy.’

‘Watch,’ urged Lee.

Instead of cutting to the familiar slow-motion replay after the runners had crossed the line, the film stayed with Betty Cuthbert. People were running to congratulate her. There was no doubt about her victory; she had crossed two metres clear. They jostled around her, embracing her, kissing her.

‘She was eighteen,’ said Lee. ‘A year younger than you. Now watch the 200 metres.’

Another sequence familiar from the training loops, the devastating bend-running that secured a three-metre victory in Olympic record time. And again the sequence ran on as the slim, smiling girl was mobbed by well-wishers and photographers. She was shown receiving her medal: a close-up of her face, happiness personified. The film cut to a Melbourne headline: BETTY YOU BEAUTY!

Then the relay. Overhauling the British girl in the final leg to break the world and Olympic records. A third gold medal. Her teammates lifting her on their shoulders. A lap of honour, waving to the cheering crowd. Another victory ceremony.

‘This is her return to Sydney,’ said Lee as a motorcade sequence came up. ‘They even named a street after her.’

Betty Cuthbert was standing in an open car. Crowds five and six deep lined the route, waving and cheering. Children were running beside the car.

Lee switched off.

‘Isn’t there more?’ asked Goldine. ‘Doesn’t she get to meet the mayor, or someone?’

‘Tomorrow,’ said Lee, his purpose achieved. ‘There are others on the tape: Rudolph, Tyus, Szewinska, Stecher. The emphasis, as you saw, isn’t on technique. It highlights the moment of victory. Did you like it?’

‘It’s set me up again,’ said Goldine warmly. ‘A little of that each day, and I’ll get by, I guess.’

‘Running itself can be a satisfying experience,’ said Lee. ‘Winning is better. Being adored is best of all.’

‘Must be out of this world,’ said Goldine. Her expression became more serious. ‘But let’s not kid ourselves, Sammy. The motorcades don’t go on forever. Actually, I won’t mind that. I don’t need too much of that. I only need to feel I’m somebody.’ She laughed. ‘Not just one of Pete Klugman’s hangups. I want people to like me, maybe even love me, for who I am.’

‘Naturally you do,’ said Lee. ‘And we know, don’t we, that after next month you won’t need Klugman. You’ll have the independence you crave. A sense of identity. Because the world will recognize you as Goldengirl. You’ll go before the press and handle their questions as you do in the simulation sessions, experiencing the excitement of all that interest. That’s when you come alive, isn’t it?’

Her eyes responded.

‘This time it won’t be simulated,’ Lee went on. ‘It will be real. And it will go on. The receptions and the motorcades come to an end, yes, but the identity you secure does not. You will always be Goldengirl, a celebrity, a focus of interest. The knowledge of what you have achieved will give you confidence in every situation. That’s the way to resolve the conflicts you feel just now. Winning in Moscow is fulfillment.’ He smiled as he slipped in one of her phrases. ‘Does that figure?’

She grinned back. ‘It figures, Sammy. You put me straight again.’

The meeting of staff in Serafin’s room two hours later heard Lee’s report of the conversation.

‘She displays a certain amount of anxiety about the track sessions,’ he told Serafin and Klugman. ‘She expresses some resentment that the objectives are beyond her, that she is denied the satisfaction of achieving them.’