Sovetsky Sport. February 2, 1994. I tentatively pressed the doorbell. A fit, elderly man opens the door and smiles warmly; my shyness vanishes instantly, as if I were visiting an old friend. In the cozy room, I am seated at a table set with sweets. I look up and see a large photograph - a portrait of a young man in a leather jacket. Kind eyes, a calm, confident gaze.
"Vladimir Timofeevich, when was that photo taken?" I asked, momentarily forgetting all the questions I had prepared.
"In 1944, after I became the country's all-around champion by defeating..."
The host hesitated, as if listening to the clear sound of tea being poured into the cups.
Q: But the war was still going on - what championships? I asked in surprise.
A: Yes, there was a war. And I was drafted into the army in 1939. I ended up in the MBD troops. Together with the gymanst Vladimir Lavrushchenko, boxer Ivan Avdeev, and other athletes. I was sent to the Far East. We spent every free minute on the sports ground. The division commander ordered me to engage in physical training with the personnel.
The following year I competed in the national championship and took first place in the floor exercises and on the parallel bars. Then the war began. Our unit was transferred to Moscow; we were stationed near the Belorussky Railway Station. Our mission was to guard military facilities adjacent to the railway. During air raids, we would climb onto the rooftops and fire at the planes with anti-aircraft guns and machine guns using tracer rounds. One time, a bomb landed on the tracks near us. The shockwave nearly knocked me off the roof - I barely managed to hold on - and when I looked down at the track bed, I saw the rails buckled upwards.
Q: I heard that during the war there were units that included only athletes.
A: Yes. Everyone was eager to get to the front, and the high command knew that athletes knew how to fight. But as early as 1942, an order was issued to recall all athletes to Moscow.
Q: How did you train?
A: It was especially difficult in winter. The gym wasn't heated, so we installed potbelly stoves in the halls.
Q: And who was your main rival?
A: There were many rivals. But the chief among them was Nikolai Seryi - a multiple national champion and an idol of gymnasts in the 1930s and 1940s.
Q: So you knew Nikolai Seryi?
A: Yes, I knew Nikolai. We buried him recently. He was eighty years old. But back in 1944, I managed to beat him for the overall title. In the floor exercises, my signature event, I scored a perfect 10, finishing ahead of even Adzhat Ibadulaev. Nikolai Seryi congratulated me right away. He was a man with a big heart.
Q: Do you remember your first victories?
A: In 1936, I won the Moscow championships for boys. This earned me the right to participate in the first All-Union Gymnastics Festival for Pioneers and Schoolchildren.
Q: Did you see Nikolai Seryi at this competition?
A: No. At the time, he was training with the national team for the Workers' Olympiad in Antwerp. The women's team brought home seven gold medals out of a possible seven, while the men's team won the team championships and four individual gold medals. The athletes were welcomed as heroes. I managed to push my way to the front of the crowd and shake the hand of Nikolai Seryi himself.
Q: Vladimir Timofeevich, the 1930s were a difficult time for the country - and for many honest, decent people. How did you perceive what was happening around you?
A: To be honest, we - young and full of enthusiasm - didn't understand much, even though we sometimes felt a deep sense of unease. For instance, our neighbors - a father, mother, and three married daughters - were expelled from Moscow for reasons no one could fathom. The husband of one of the daughters worked for the security services, yet he was executed by firing squad. It was deeply upsetting. Much later, I realized that this feeling resembled the sensation I experienced when an aerial bomb exploded right next to me.
Q: This condition made it difficult to train!
A: Apparently yes. But youth took over. We all wanted to live and win, and we did everthing for this, sometimes not noticing what was going on around us.
Q: Mass processions, demonstrations, and festivities were popular in those years. Did you take part in them?
A: In 1939, a parade weas held on Red Square to mark Physical Culture Day. Igor Moiseyev - now a renowned choreographer - prepared a column of students from the Institute of Physical Culture. A 'living pyramid' drew particular acclaim from high-ranking officials and the audience alike. It was structured as follows: sixteen people supported iron shields on their shoulders - one shield for every four individuals - and a man stood on each shield; these four men, in turn, supported another shield, and at the very apex of the pyramid stood either a discus thrower or a boxer. The base of the pyramid was draped in fabric bearing the inscription in large letters: "We Are Ready For War."
Q: And what role did you have?
A: Surrounded by beautiful young women in colorful national costumes standing around the carpet, I performed my signature floor exercises.
Q: Was Stalin at the parade?
A: Naturally. He stood on the podium of the Mausoleum. That day, immediately following the parade, a banquet was held in the Palace of Facets. All the prominent athletes had been invited. What a magnificent place the Palace of Facets is! And the food - it was beyond description. A separate table was set for government officials. Outside, in front of the entrance to the Palace, there were many cars. If anyone happened to drink too much and become unruly, they were immediately driven home. Stalin drank along with everyone else. But around one in the morning, he left the gathering. As he exited the Palace of Facets, a human corridor formed. Everyone reached out, hoping to touch Stalin's hand. I, too, leaned forward, and my hand brushed against his clothing. Yes, we were young and full of fervor.
Q: Were parades held after the war?
A: Yes, and I took part in many of them. By those years, I was already seriously preparing for the Olympic Games.
Q: Vladimir Timofeevich, in the post-war years, our athletes were not considered serious contenders in gymnastics. How did our team manage to win [in Helsinki]?
A: There were some frustrating 'hitches,' too... Early in the competition, the judges deliberately gave us low scores. They were trying to prevent the Soviet team from taking the lead right from the first apparatus. As the most experienced member, I was the first to compete. I performed a good vault, yet the scoreboard flashed a 9.15. What was going on? It turned out that we were unaware of a specific rule: if a coach walks onto the competition floor alongside the athlete, the competitor receives a three-tenth deduction.
Q: The first Olympics brought our athletes many victories. It seems that the government rewarded you accordingly?
A: No. We weren't give anything except flowers.
Q: But why?
A: They say Beria was involved in this. He didn't like the fact that our footballers lost the final match.
Q: Life was not easy for athletes in those years!
A: It wasn't much. The top two athletes on the national team received 3,000 rubles a month. Winning the national championship paid 20,000 rubles. For comparison, back in 1955-1956, a Pobeda car cost 16,000 rubles, and a Moskvich cost 9,000.
Q: When did you leave sports?
A: After the Olympic Games, I continued training for another year and performed in exhibitions abroad, visiting Finland and China. We received a truly royal welcome in China. In Beijing, we attended the celebration marking the anniversary of the founding of the People's Republic of China. Mao Zedong delivered a major speech, then, amidst thunderous applause, turned toward us and greeted the Soviet athletes.
Q: How did your life turn out?
A: In short: my whole life has been dedicated to sports. I served as head coach of the USSR national team and later the Russian team, and I taught at Moscow State University for fifteen years. The team there was strong and won the inter-university championships.
Q: You are the same age as the former USSR. What did Soviet power give you?
A: I experienced many moments of joy and light. In my youth, I believed in communism - though not for long. We arrived in Norway in 1950 and saw poverty there that was much worse than our own post-war conditions. Five years later, we visited again. And what a change! It was a prosperous country, with cheerful, proud people. That was when doubts first began to stir within me; I stopped trusting - as I had in my youth - everything the newspapers wrote about and the radio broadcast with such enthusiasm.
Q: What is your take on what is happening in our country right now?
A: I believe that democracy will prevail.
Q: Yegor Gaidar has resigned. Do you approve of this move?
A: I think he did the right thing, although it seems to me that these are the kind of people who should rule the country.
Q: The Olympic Ball took place recently. Did you enjoy it? It looks just like the events that used to be held in the Palace of Facets!
A: All such events are alike in some ways and different in others. For me, the Olympic Ball is a place to meet up with friends who trained alongside me in the same gym. There aren't many of us left.
"And now I'm going to ask you a question," Vladimir Timofeevich said with a sly smile.
Q: Have you ever been to the Dinamo metro station?
A: Of course. That's where I trained.
Q: Did you notice the reliefs in the station vestibule?
A: Yes, I loved looking at them.
Q: On one of them, a gymnast is peforming exercises on the pommel horse - do you remember? Well, I was the one who posed for the famous sculptor Manizer. I even had a copy of that bas-relief which, alas, got broken when I moved to a new apartment.
The Belyakovs saw me off as if I were their own granddaughter - with a bag of tangerines and a warm parting wish that felt very much like Masha's: "Be careful at the intersections." It's impossible not to love this man.
A. TOROLTSEVA
A Very Personal Note: My coach was Evgeny Korolkov, an Olympic champion from the Helsinki Games. He used to tell us boys all about the people he had competed alongside - Chukarin, Muratov, Belyakov. Later, while I was studying at Moscow State University, I met Vladimir Timofeevich. Oh, he was a 'cool guy,' (that's what we called the professors we really liked). He always radiated an amazing clarity and optimism. Even at seventy-five, he was no die-hard Communist; he understood that Russia needed to be transformed. At the Olympic Ball, we got to talking about politics, and in a burst of enthusiasm, I gave him a hug - he was one of us, a progressive thinker! Dear Timofeevich, thank you - from the young and the 'sort of young' (meaning, from me).
V. GOLUBEV