By Thomas Boswell
Thursday, August 7, 2008
BEIJING
The team that may be the greatest at these Olympics -- the winner of the most gold medals in any sport for any country -- took the stage Wednesday to ponder its chances. Could Michael Phelps win eight golds or Katie Hoff six? Would Dara Torres, who won her first gold medal in '84, repeat the feat six Olympics later? At the limits of possibility, could the mighty U.S. swim team actually sweep every gold that's up for grabs in the blue Water Cube?
Such a stage might be the perfect opportunity to expose an excess of ego. Yet every U.S. star strayed from his own story to focus on a less gifted teammate -- a 24-year-old from Lilburn, Ga., who, while capable of a medal here, might just as easily miss the finals in his only event.
The swimming hero of these Olympics, at least among his peers, is Eric Shanteau, who had testicular cancer diagnosed two months ago, yet has chosen to delay surgery so he can be an Olympian.
"I lost my grandmother to cancer," Phelps said. "I know it's not an easy battle." So, in the down time in the Olympic Village with too many hours to think, Phelps makes sure Shanteau is "one of the guys in the card games."
Torres remembers when Shanteau stood before the entire team at training camp last month in Palo Alto, Calif., and told everyone his stunning news. "We were all in shock," she said. "You could hear a pin drop in the room. The first couple days after, you really feel bad for him, and then it's like you almost forget he has it, because he doesn't act like he has anything wrong with him. He fits in great with the team. He's so amazing. I look at him, and I cannot believe what he's going through, and he still has that drive to want to be here and be with the team and do his best, and it's just an amazing thing to watch."
Sometimes, even Shanteau can't believe what he's going through, how it's reshaping or revealing his personality, altering his every feeling and choice. Increasingly, he realizes this is the defining moment in his life.
"What I show the public is upbeat. But I'm human. This has been a roller-coaster ride. This isn't the flu. It's cancer," said Shanteau, who would have had surgery almost a month ago if he had finished one spot lower at the U.S. trials in Omaha -- third rather than second -- and not made the team.
"It is on my mind constantly. I can't help it. . . . So, when I get down, these are the people I count on," he said, nodding to his teammates. "As soon as I told them, and for the rest of my life, I know they are going to be there for me. They're taken me under their wings in the fight I'm going through."
Most of all, Shanteau wants a fretful public to know that "I've made an educated decision about this. It's not a stupid decision. If this were life threatening [in the short term], I definitely would not be here. They tell me this is a very slow-growing tumor. Hopefully, there won't be any chemotherapy or radiation. But we won't know that until after surgery."
That surgery, however, will be on Shanteau's terms. After his quest in the 200-meter breaststroke is over on Aug. 14 -- "I think I have a great chance to get on the podium" -- he will take five days off to soak up every iota of an Olympic experience that "I worked for all my life -- 15 years of swimming."
Like many, since the day I heard about Shanteau's condition, I've worried that he was a misguided young athlete in a quintessentially obsessive sport who was making an unwise decision. The better the athlete, the more he's tempted to think he can do what others can't, beat tougher odds, take bigger risks. However, Shanteau, an Auburn grad, is intelligent, self-possessed and fighting not to delude himself.
"There used to be a five percent survival rate. Now it's 95 percent curable. . . . I will beat this," said Shanteau, who's talked with Lance Armstrong, who overcame the same condition, and uses the same doctor.
Still, hearing the word "malignant" has shaken and then reshaped him, perhaps even making him more remarkable. When he first got the news, "I just kind of went numb. Then, you get angry. Or I did. 'Why me? Why now?' You want to reach over and knock the doctor out of his chair. . . . I thought, 'No way. I'm this elite athlete.' I'm going into the Olympic trials with an 'I'm invincible' mind-set."
Since that day, June 11, Shanteau seems to have gone through progressive levels of maturity. He realized that in the insular world of swimming he couldn't possibly keep such a secret indefinitely. So, in the ultimate out-of-control situation, he controlled those things that were still in his hands. "I didn't want the news to get out and get blown up. So I decided to deal with it on my own terms."
First came the team meeting -- "one of the hardest things I've ever done," he said. Then came the sudden public platform for a swimmer who, while good enough to win four medals in the national championships, is far from a superstar. His best time in the 200 breaststroke is the 13th fastest in the world this year.
"I hope I can be an inspiration to others, let them know you don't have to be afraid," Shanteau said. "At first, it rattled me. Then I realized it's not my fault. Accept it. Take ownership of it. . . . This will probably be the defining thing that happens in my life.
"I chose to make it a positive."
Many will imagine a storybook ending. Armstrong has said, "I think at the Olympics he will swim like a man possessed." He may. But get it straight: If this guy medals, if he stands on the podium while they play the anthem, it would have been a mild upset if he were perfectly healthy.
Yet Shanteau is convinced that cancer is actually going to help him perform better. A self-psych job? Or insight?
"The hard part is done," said Shanteau, whose primary goal has always been to reach the Olympics, especially after finishing third in both the 100 and 200 breaststroke in the '04 trials -- one spot too low.
"How do I stay focused? It's been pretty easy. I've got an 'out' in cancer. . . . I have a reputation for thinking myself out of a good swim, thinking myself crazy. Now I have something else to think about. It calms me down and relaxes me and takes the pressure off."
If you want to know how bad Olympic pressure can be, there you have it: The thought of surgery for cancer can be a useful distraction.
Whatever Shanteau's final result, he knows what he's already done. "It's my dream come true," he said. "I'm just happy I finally got to come."
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