FRAILTIES, PERFECTION: NADIA SEEKS A BALANCE

Monday, March 16, 1981

Section: SPORTS
Page: C04

BY TIMOTHY MOORE

"Now Nadia, you know how the people of America feel about you, don't you?" says the local television anchorman, turning quickly for a smile into his own camera. " They think you're a '10,' Nadia. Do you know what being a '10' in America means, Nadia?"

Nadia Comaneci, her dark, brooding, lovely eyes belying sympathy for her questioner, listens carefully to her translator. " A '10'? " she asks incredulously in broken English. " Of course, I always try to be a '10.' "

An on-camera guffaw erupts from the talking-head anchorman, delighted he has caught cute little Nadia being cute. " Of course, you do," he asserts paternally, patting her on her bony little shoulder, "and all of us and America love you.

"OK, Skip, that's a take, let's go," the anchorman says, winding the cord of his microphone.

Nadia Comaneci sits quietly, solemnly, like a witness who is never asked the right question. Her ponytail is pulled taut, her face is glazed like a contemplative China doll. She is beautiful in her stolid toleration, convincing in her feigning of ignorance, using her ultimate weapon, the language barrier, as a pretension not to understand.

But she understands. Perfectly.

She jumps from her seat, where a group of reporters have surrounded her, says a few words in Romanian to her translator, and then runs across the gym and rejoins her younger teammates, a bevy of pigtailed pixies with milk-white skin and blue-sky tights. She sits among them like a mother returning to the warmth of her kittens. They all sit silently.

On the other side of the gym, across the blue mat, the translator is explaining to the reporters, the cameramen, the photographers, that Nadia said she was " tired." They don't understand. They want to ask more questions.

" Hey, listen," says a photographer from a New York newspaper, " How can a girl who won three gold medals at the Olympics be tired sitting down answering questions?"

Later, alone, Nadia would say: " They don't prepare," a reference most likely to the fact that two reporters asked her how old she was. Nadia Comaneci had been preparing a lifetime when at 14 she stunned the women's gymnastic world by recording seven perfect scores and winning three gold medals in the 1976 Montreal Olympics. Her combination of perfection and innocence surpassed even that of Olga Korbut's display four years earlier. An absolute lack of fear on the balance beam and a Garbo-like ability to shut out distractions represented all we could ever hope to be: young and perfect. Her back somersaults and gyrating dismounts from the uneven bars (eventually dubbed the Salto Comaneci) earned her unanimous acclaim.

" From a biomechanic viewpoint," wrote critic Joseph Goehler in International Gymnast, " this is hardly conceivable."

But if Olga Korbut opened the door to the world for women's gymnastics, Nadia Comaneci brought us in for a seven-day visit. In Montreal, and eventually in sports pages across the U.S., " Nadia" was the word. Rerunning the videotape could not be overdone. Her pictures on national magazines led to a revival of little girls jumping on balance beams everywhere. Even the music she performed to sold more than a million copies on A&M Records. Her popularity proved so great that she resorted to writing Time and Newsweek to thank a nation for their letters. In Romania she was treated as the national treasure.

The only thing puzzling about Nadia was her silence. She did not like to talk, and this did not jell well with an America which is used to knowing which toothpaste Terry Bradshaw uses. Some officials speculated that Nadia's reticence was due to her severe practice supervision: Praise was rare, and an unceasing barrage of verbal abuse and criticism from the coaches, with an occasional slap for a repeated mistake, was ordinary. " A girl will never be a top gymnast if she cries," said Bela Karolyi, Nadia's coach. " I have never seen Nadia cry."

America was wondering if she cried.

" I would like to get a perfect score in every event in a single competition. This is my final goal."

Drama and the women's Olympic gymnastic movement could not be better bedfellows. Because they are young and cute, gymnasts such as Olga Korbut and Nadia Comaneci inevitably win our hearts. And because they are produced by countries of varied political desires, their acts on the world's stage become all that more dramatic. One can only imagine the pressure on Comaneci when she lost the world title to Russia's Elena Mukhina in November 1978. Though she did regain her balance by winning the World Cup at Tokyo in 1979, she failed to dominate the Moscow Olympics in 1980.

The Olympics typified the bitterness and resentment that can grow easily in the soiled political-sports world. Comaneci's disputed score of 9.85 on the balance beam, leaving her less than one-tenth of a point from victory, led to an outburst from her coach Karolyi, who charged that it was " an arrangement" aimed at ensuring a Soviet gold medal. Though she did win two gold medals, she shared the victory stand with Nelli Kim of the Soviet Union, causing many to speculate that Nadia's best days were in Montreal. Now Nadia is performing for America again on a six-city national tour with the Romanian women's Olympic team and selected members of the United States men's national team, including Kurt Thomas.

The tour is called, appropriately, " Nadia '81" and once again she must meet the press, although she has announced that she will not be available for interviews when the tour stops at the Spectrum tonight at 8 o'clock." She still hates it, but she does an infinitely better job of it," said Rick Appleman, an American promoter who has been in charge of all her appearances here and who has become close to Nadia. " It's like she understands now. She is a very mature young woman with a good mind. She understands a lot more than most people know, but she's interested primarily in perfecting her art, not her talk."

She is 19 now, and the most noticeable difference in her appearance since Montreal is that she is taller and her ponytail is fuller. At a practice session she walks confidently around in a black warmup suit, stretching her chalk-ingrained hands to her right, then her left, before falling to the mat to do likewise with her legs. " She is pretty much her own coach now, " explained Appleman. " With a great athlete, you know, you can only coach for so long. The rest is up to her. She has the self motivation."

Respect and admiration usually do not keep interviewers away from their subjects, but a lack of knowledge of the Romanian language does, even though Nadia has accrued one English skill in her travels. When she finally does come over to sit down, she goes three rows deep to sit with her translator to begin the procedure.

" Nadia, how did you feel about yourself when you lost the title in 1978 and were said to be overweight?"

Pause, as the translator translates.

" Gross," said Nadia.

" Do you still collect dolls?"

Pause for the translation.

" Yes, I have very many now."

" Nadia, what do you want to see in America?"

Pause for the translation.

" I think America is a very beautiful country, and I would like to see as much as I can."

The questions go on. Questions about her boyfriend, questions about her school back in Romania. She talks about how she is looking forward to the World Championships in Mexico and the University Games in Bucharest, how she may compete in the 1984 Olympics at age 23, and how gymnastics can "never be perfected, one can always improve, find a new move. You can never stop trying for something new, something different. I once thought there was a perfect peak, but now I realize there is always room to get better."

On Olga Korbut: " She is a very talented gymnast, one of the best, who will always be remembered."

On being interviewed by journalists: " I don't mind it as much as I used to, for I understand they have a job. I try and answer questions for them. Some seem better prepared than others."

On smiling: " Yes, I smile," illustrating her point at the same time.

On crying: " I had some very tough years."

But did you ever cry?

She smiles slowly, looks at her interpreter, and nods. " Yes. Haven't we all?"

Corrections:

"Even the music she performed to sold more than a million copies..."

The music mentioned is "Nadia's theme," which was renamed for her after the Montreal Olympics. This had nothing to do with her floor music "Yes, Sir, That's My Baby."

"Some officials speculated that Nadia's reticence was due to her severe practice supervision..."

There is no proof that anything like this happened, it may or may not be true. Nadia has never complained about it, so it leads us to believe this is just a story created, or exaggerated, by the media.