CALL THIS BRITON GREAT

By Richard Stengel

Running, jumping or throwing, decathlete Daley Thompson was a winner

Just a year ago, Daley Thompson mailed a postcard to Bob Mathias, the only man ever to win two decathlon gold medals (in 1948 and 1952). "I'm going to get you," the card said with the jocular pointedness that is Thompson's singular way. Last week, after the two days and ten events that test for the title of world's greatest athlete, Thompson, 26, the cheeky, irrepressible winner of the 1980 decathlon, had made good on his challenge. He did not make it look easy, but he managed to make it look like fun.

To catch Mathias, chunky 6-ft. 1-in. Thompson had to clamber over statuesque 6-ft. 6 3/4-in. Juergen Hingsen, the "German Hercules" who holds the decathlon world record. In style and personality the two duelists are a classic study in contrasts. Thompson the Dionysian, Hingsen the Apollonian; the fiery fullback and the shining knight. Thompson, an infectious extravert from a working-class neighborhood of London who blithely chatters away whether or not anyone is listening, treats the field of play as though it were an enormous sandbox. Hingsen performs without wasted motion or emotion, intently striking the perfect form even in his warmups.

In a running repartee beforehand, Hingsen said Thompson's braggadocio made him think of Muhammad AH; Thompson called his rival "Hollywood Hingsen" because of his Burt Reynolds mustache and his perpetual golden tan. Hingsen predicted he would win the gold. Thompson replied, "There are only two ways he is going to bring a gold medal home; he'll have to steal mine or win another event." Thompson has added an eleventh event to the decathlon: clowning around. He came to one press conference sporting a floppy hat, then doffed it, revealing his head swathed in bandages. "All this talk of Hingsen is giving me a headache," Thompson said in his lilting London accent. In their four international head-to-head contests, though, Thompson had never lost.

In the first event last week, Thompson powered his way to 10.44 sec. in the 100 meters, equaling his best time in a decathlon. In the long jump, roaring down the runway on his third try, he flew 26 ft. 3 1/2 in., 8 1/4 in. ahead of the West German, and good enough to have placed fifth in the regular competition. The shotput should have been an event in which Hingsen trimmed Thompson's lead. Hingsen heaved his blue shot (color-coordinated with the German uniform) 52 ft. 3/4 in. Not bad; better than Thompson's best, though not quite up to Hingsen's. Then Thompson, in his first try, launched the shot 51 ft. 7 in., a new personal record, and sported an "aw shucks" grin to go with it. In the high jump, Hingsen did what he had to do. His 6 ft. 11 1/2 in. was well above Thompson's jump, and he closed the gap somewhat. Thompson cruised to a 5-meter win in the 400 meters and led Hingsen after the first day by 114 points, well ahead of world-record pace.

In the first event of Day 2, the 110-meter hurdles, Hingsen edged Thompson by .05 sec. The discus was next, and here Hingsen had to make a move if he was to stay in contention. He did.

Winding his Rhine-wide shoulders, he hurled the platter in a high arc and hit a personal best of 166 ft. 9 in. Thompson's first two throws were stubby line drives, neither exceeding 140 ft. If he had done no better on his third try, Thompson would have slumped to second place. But he reared back and uncorked his alltime best of 152 ft. 9 in. His lead was preserved, though only 32 points now separated the two men.

Then, in the pole vault, Hingsen nearly succumbed to the decathlete's nightmare: disqualification for not making height. Before vaulting, he had thrown up twice, and on his first two tries at 14 ft. 9 in. he looked like a clumsy fledgling. On his third effort he cleared it by a whisker, but that was as high as he went. Under the point system, each inch in the vault is worth about 6 points, making it a disproportionately weighted event. So with Hingsen grounded, Thompson rose for the kill. When he cleared 16 ft. 4 3/4 in., he delightedly executed a back flip on the pink landing pad. No points were awarded for the extracurricular flip, but Thompson landed with a cushy lead of 152 points.

Hingsen knew it was over. He managed a javelin throw of only 198 ft. 3 in., 23 ft. short of his best. After several awkward practice heaves, Thompson launched a toss of 214 ft., followed by the obligatory grin. In the final event, the 1,500 meters, Thompson could have changed his shirt while racing and still won the gold. But he had to run at least 4:34.8 to break Hingsen's decathlon record of 8,798 points. Seemingly easing up at the end, however, Thompson trudged across the finish line in 4:35, two-tenths of a second-and two points-shy of what he needed to establish a new world mark. But he had the Olympic record, and he had won, 8,797 points to 8,673 for Hingsen.

"I was just running on feeling," he said later. "I was having a good time." After his victory lap (wearing a light blue T shirt that read across the chest, THANKS AMERICA FOR A GREAT GAMES, and added on the back BUT WHAT ABOUT THE TV COVERAGE?), Thompson was greeted by Princess Anne. "Daley, what did she say to you?" a reporter asked. Answered Thompson: "She said I was a damn good-looking guy." So began another stand-up comedy routine.

But Thompson never jokes about the decathlon. He is his own coach and does not have a fool for a pupil. He claims that he revels in the rigors of the training; competition is dessert. "I sound rather eccentric, don't I?" he asks rhetorically. "No, when you're rich you're eccentric, when you're poor you're mad. So I'm mad." Thompson grew up poor and angry. He is the son of a Nigerian British immigrant who died when Daley was twelve and a Scottish mother who sent him at age seven to a school for problem children where track offered the chance to run away from trouble. His nickname is a shortened version of Ayodele, the African name his father gave him, which means "Joy comes home." His home, day in, year out, is the track. His joy, publicly expressed, will be privately savored. Says he: "There is a feeling that one who performs in public becomes a public property. I do not believe that." Daley is adored from afar, the distance he likes best. He plans to rest now for a year, then tram for a try at a third gold in 1988. The world record, he said at his celebratory press conference, "would have been nice. But all I wanted to do was win." While the gold was enough, it turns out he will have the record too. A new weighting of decathlon points has been adopted for next year; under that future tally, Thompson's performance will earn him the world record. So on Jan. 1, without even lacing up his track shoes, Thompson, the most Irreverent decathlete of all tune, will become the undisputed greatest decathlete of all time. --By Richard Stengel.

Reported by Melissa Ludtke/Los Angeles

With reporting by Melissa Ludtke/Los Angeles