Total Opposites, but They Attract

BEIJING

One guy would never say it, but we all know what he's after, while the other guy shouts for attention even with his mouth closed. Two inimitable stars have emerged in the Summer Games, and which one you consider the more interesting depends on how you like your water, flat or sparkling. Michael Phelps took nine days to make history, Usain Bolt less than 10 seconds, and that pretty much sums up who they are, and the nature of what they do.

Sometimes it can seem that the price of modern Olympic renown is a loss of individuality. Myopia and tireless corporate sloganeering seem to be the prerequisites for gold medalists, too many of whom are differentiated only by their iPod play lists. But Phelps and Bolt, so separately thrilling, provoke argument with the sheer oppositeness of their mediums and personalities. What's harder, to dash over the ground, or to push through water? Who's more interesting, the joyous exhibitionist or modest introvert? Which is the more glamorous achievement? Bolt stepped on the biggest stage, in the signature event of the Games, and dumbfounded the world as he danced across the finish line sideways, and set his world record in the 100 meters. Phelps, the supreme internalizer, submerged himself body and soul in collecting an unprecedented eight gold medals, setting seven world records, without ever admitting his goal aloud.

First, the argument in favor of Phelps. Swimmers will say it's ludicrous to even compare Bolt's brief burst with the myriad accomplishments of their guy, who had to get up for 17 races, and master all four strokes, and three different distances, 100, 200 and 400 meters. Only afterward would Phelps admit how tired he was. On Friday, after he won the 200 individual medley, he had so little time to get back into the pool for the semifinal of the 100 butterfly that he just stuck his gold medal in his pocket. After the heat, he realized, "Oh my gosh, I'm exhausted." The mounting pressure and anxiety was finally apparent a day later in the butterfly final, his weakest event and the only one in which he didn't set a world record, and yet what a timeless finish, edging Milorad Cavic by that immemorial hundredth of a second.

To Brendan Hansen, his teammate in the 4x100 medley relay, Phelps's feat simply had no equal. "This guy is the greatest athlete in the world, and every athlete in the world needs to tip their hats," he said.

Phelps swam with such well-regulated composure that he perhaps cheated the audience out of proper appreciation for the monumental difficulty of what he did. He was all equanimity, and discipline. "Another thing that separates Michael from most people," said his coach, Bob Bowman, "is that when they don't feel good, they don't swim well. Michael kind of performs independently of his feelings."

Phelps was so focused, so trained on the few yards of water in front of him, that at times he was blind to everything else. Each evening the translucent walls of the Water Cube lit up in different hues. After he won his eighth medal, Phelps confessed he had not realized the venue could change colors.

Phelps's admirers will point out the long-planned nature of his accomplishment, too. Phelps has had his eye on surpassing Mark Spitz's 1972 record of seven gold medals in a single meet since he was 15, and pursued it steadily for eight years. He took a long time to learn his business, and then poured himself into it. He went about it without fear of boredom, or failure. He has repeated his performances over and over. And in the end, though he was without much personal flair or outward vanity, he made the water seem radiant.

Now for Bolt: It ought to be ridiculous to compare one gold medal to eight, but it's not. What Bolt lacks in consistency of performance and chest decorations -- he still has two events to go, in the 200 meters and 4x100 relay -- he makes up for with amazement. His 100 dash was simply the purest show of dynamism in track history; the man beat the field by five yards, quit running hard with seven strides still to go, and did not appear to break a sweat, all in record time.

Bolt turns 22 this week but he has only run the 100 for a year, and whereas Phelps has maximized his abilities, Bolt is just beginning to get a sense of his. The possibilities are dumbfounding: with the long turnover of those everlasting legs, he covers 100 meters with only about 41 strides, about five less than his rivals. He has an ease of movement that makes tarmac seem like carpet and a gallop like a toe-touch.

And he's easy to relate to. Almost no one can perform the butterfly with the strength and precision of Phelps -- but everyone has run, and run with the childlike pleasure of Bolt. Usually there's something irritating about a champion so obviously out to create his own legend -- Carl Lewis comes to mind. But the Jamaican runner just seems joyfully full of himself and his newfound talent, with his celestial archer poses, pretty-man pretend hair combing, and his punching of his numbers into the cellphones of female admirers.

He breaks every rule, which is his charm. He sways to the pre-race music, he looks at the clock, he darts glances at his opponents. And he sets records without seeming to try -- normally unforgivable in an Olympian. "I didn't come here to run a world record," he said. "I was already the world record holder. I just came here to win."

Choose your pleasure: matchless discipline, or peerless ease. Bolt and Phelps share just one quality: They both came here to win.