My Greatest Olympic Prize

我最珍贵的奥林匹克奖

It was the summer of 1936. The Olympic Games were being held in Berlin. Because Adolf Hitler childishly insisted that his performers were members of a "master race," nationalistic feelings were at an all-time high.

I wasn't too worried about all this. I'd trained, sweated and disciplined myself for six years, with the Games in mind. While I was going over on the boat, all I could think about was taking home one or two of those gold medals. I had my eyes especially on the running broad jump. A year before, as a sophomore at the Ohio State, I'd set the world's record of 26 feet 8 1/4 inches. Nearly everyone expected me to win this event.

I was in for a surprise. When the time came for the broad-jump trials, I was startled to see a tall boy hitting the pit at almost 26 feet on his practice leaps! He turned out to be a German named Luz Long. I was told that Hitler hoped to win the jump with him.

I guessed that if Long won, it would add some new support to the Nazis' "master race" (Aryansuperiority) theory. After all, I am a Negro. Angry about Hitler's ways, I determined to go out there and really show Der Fuhrer and his master race who was superior and who wasn't.

An angry athlete is an athlete who will make mistakes, as any coach will tell you. I was no exception. On the first of my three qualifying jumps, I leaped from several inches beyond the takeoff board for a foul. On the second jump, I fouled even worse. "Did I come 3,000 miles for this?" I thought bitterly. "To foul out of the trials and make a fool of myself?"

Walking a few yards from the pit, I kicked disgustedly at the dirt. Suddenly I felt a hand on my shoulder. I turned to look into the friendly blue eyes of the tall German broad jumper. He had easily qualified for the finals on his first attempt. He offered me a firm handshake.

"Jesse Owens, I'm Luz Long. I don't think we've met." He spoke English well, though with a German twist to it.

"Glad to meet you," I said. Then, trying to hide my nervousness, I added, "How are you?"

"I'm fine. The question is: How are you?"

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"Something must be eating you," he said--proud the way foreigners are when they've mastered a bit of American slang. "You should be able to qualify with your eyes closed."

"Believe me, I know it," I told him--and it felt good to say that to someone.

 

1936年夏天。奥林匹克运动会在柏林举行。由于阿道夫·希特勒幼稚地坚持他的选手是“优等民族”的成员，民族主义情绪空前高涨。

我对这一切并不太担心。六年来，我心里想着这次奥运会，一直在坚持刻苦训练，从严要求自己。我乘船来时，就一心想带一两块金牌回家。我特别想在急行跳远项目上夺取金牌。一年前，我在俄亥俄州上大学二年级时，就创下了26英尺81/4英寸的世界纪录。几乎所有的人都认为我会赢得这项赛事。

然而，事情出乎我的意料。到了急行跳远预选赛时，我吃惊地看见一个高个儿小伙子试跳时就落在了沙坑将近26英尺的地方！原来他是个德国人，名叫卢茨·隆格。有人告诉我，希特勒就希望靠他来获得跳远冠军。

我心想，如果隆格获胜，那势必给纳粹的“优等民族“（雅利安人优异）论调增加新的佐证。毕竟，我是个黑人。我很气个过希特勒的那一套，决心显一显身手，着实让“元首大人”和他的优等民族看看谁优谁劣。

任何一个教练员都会对你说．运动员一生气就会犯错误。我也不例外。预赛三跳中的第一跳，我踏过起跳板几英寸犯了现。第二跳时，则犯规更严重。“难道我从3000英里外跑到这儿就为了这个结局？”我痛苦地想道，“为了在预赛里就犯规出局丢自己的丑吗？” 我从沙坑里走出几码远，气愤地踢着沙土。忽然，我感到有一只手搭在我的肩膀上。我转过脸去，瞧见了那个高个子德国跳远运动员一双友好的蓝眼睛。他头一跳就轻松地取得了决赛资格。他主动用力地握了握我的手。 “杰西·欧文斯，我叫卢茨·隆格。我想我们以前没见过面。”他英语说得不错，尽管带一点德国味儿。

“认识你很高兴，”我说。随后，我竭力想掩饰自已的不安，便又说道：“你怎么样？”

“我很好。问题是：你怎么样？”

“你的意思是？”我问道。

“一定有什么困扰着你，”他说——显得很得意，外国人掌握了一点美国俚语都会这样。“你就是闭着眼睛也能进入决赛。” “相信我，这我知道，”我对他说－－能跟别人说这话，心里觉得好受些。