BENEFICARY of CIRCUMSTANCE

Paul Hait gave all the outward signs of the training-phobic, successful swimmer. You know the type. They train as often as road kill and invariably end up on the winner's platform. In 1960, Hait returned to the pool for three months following a two-year absence and not only made the Olympic team as a breaststroker, but went on to win a gold medal in world-record-time in Rome.

"We were surprised a little bit when he made the team, maybe," says Steve Clark, a former world record holder and two-time Olympian who trained with Hait at the Santa Clara Swim Club. "But what really surprised us was that he nearly did it again in '64. He came back for three months, and he had been off for two years before that - and made the finals at the trials. If he had another month of training, he would have made the team again."

No doubt, Hait's a shoe-in for the Training Averse Hall of Fame. Six months total of workouts in the two years leading up to each of the trials, yet the results were one Olympic team, a near miss for a second, a gold medal and a world record. When compared to any other swimmer in the modern era, Hait clearly got the most from the least.

But, in fact, Hait wasn't averse to training. Rather, he was the victim - or perhaps beneficiary is a better word - of a series of accidents. The summer before his freshman year in high school, he pinched a nerve in his neck so badly that contact sports were no longer an option. Swimming came into the picture only because the coach at his high school in San Jose caught a glimpse of his breaststroke and urged him to join the team. By the time he graduated in 1958, Hait was a high school All-American.

That summer, he placed third at the long-course nationals training under George Haines, who was in the process of establishing an Olympic feeder system at Santa Clara. A bright swimming career at Stanford seemed assured, only to have Hait slip in the shower his freshman year and badly damage his back and sciatic nerve. Hait was in a steel brace for nine months. His right leg was partially paralyzed. It would be a year before he would regain feeling in all of his toes.

The reconnection to swimming was yet another accident. Hait was in a Stanford gym looking for an activity to get back into shape when, by chance, he met Miklos Tottossy. Tottossy knew a few things about athletic adversity. He had been a world-class canoeist and wrestler in his native Hungary, but was undone by his strident anti-communist views. Rarely was he allowed to compete internationally. He fought in the 1956 uprising, which was brutally suppressed by the Russian army, and subsequently spent time in prison. He looked upon a bad back as no more of a hurdle than a week-old cold. Think big, he told Hait. Forget about what's right in front of you. Look over the horizon.

"The last think I was thinking about was the Olympics," Hait recalls. "I still couldn't dive, and I couldn't kick breaststroke. But after watching Miklos train and listening to what he had to say, I became committed to the idea."

The notion was ridiculous from any angle. Hait hadn't practiced seriously in 18 months. The Olympic Trials were less than six months away. The pain in his back precluded him form pushing hard off walls. The big toe on his right foot was numb. His parents, fearful that he would hurt himself further, had him see a doctor, who made a compelling argument for not taking up serious training.

Nevertheless, Hait began to build a mental bridge between the improbably and the doable. It was the beginning of a pattern that would continue throughout his adult life. Over the next 40 years, Hait would earn some 70 patents. He would start a business and sell it for a tidy profit. He would create a foundation that seeks to relieve the suffering of terminal cancer patients. At Stanford, even though he majored in mechanical engineering, he wasn't much for formulas. What motivated him was the blank page. He relished digging in to the intractable problems. When someone told him, "don't bother. You'll never figure it out," he dug deeper.

"I have often thought about my feelings after winning the gold medal," he says. "There was a sense of euphoria when I told myself, 'I can't believe this is happening.' But the real excitement was when I came back, and I met up with the people who said I couldn't do it."

If Hait had any lingering doubts, his academic advisor dismissed them.

"There is only one time in your life when you should do something," he told Hait, "and that's when you want to do it. Not when you are doing it for anyone else, but because you want to do it. Do you want to go to the Olympics?"

When Hait nodded affirmatively, the advisor said, "Then what are you waiting for? Go do it."
Hait must have been some sight when he presented himself to Haines. He was unpracticed and out of shape. His right leg still had a mind of hits own. The Olympic Trials were less than 90 days away.
But Haines was a superb judge of talent. He knew from two summers earlier that Hait could condition himself quickly. He also knew Hait was a gifted breaststroker.

"He had a funny looking freestyle - like a turtle with his arm swinging - and I doubt if he could have finished a 50 fly or a 50 backstroke," recalls Clark. "But with breaststroke, it was as if he were created by God. He was a natural breaststroker, and he had blazing speed."

Hait was also lucky. Here again, another accident. He was a breaststroker at just the right time. In 1960, America had the best male butterflyers in the world, the best IMers, the best backstrokers - and with the exception of one or two Australians - the best freestylers. However, that was hardly the case with breaststroke. Going into the Trials in 1960, the U.S. Men's Olympic Swimming Committee, the precursor to USA Swimming, committed to sending only one breaststroker to the Olympics in Rome to swim the 200. (There was no 100m breaststroke in the Olympic program at the time). The committee's thinking was that whoever went probably wouldn't finish within the top eight, so why bother sending a second. The world record at the time was 2:36.5. No American had a realistic hope of getting much under 2:40.

The Committee's prediction was woefully off the mark. Bill Mulliken, a senior at Miami (Ohio) University, won the gold medal in Rome with a time of 2:37.4. Nevertheless, going into Trials, no one could dispute the fact that America's breaststroke ranks were thin when compared to those of other strokes. Even better for Hait, who was much stronger in the 100, there would be a separate event to determine the breaststroker on the 400m medley relay. All other medley and freestyle relay members were to be determined by swim-offs in Rome. It was as if the Olympic Committee had made a special arrangement to accommodate Hait, though that proved to be hardly the case.

Hait recalls two milestones in the run-up to Trials. In early July, roughly a month before the Trials, he regained full feeling in his big toe. At about the same time, he beat Santa Clara teammate Anne Warner in a kicking set. Haines had dubbed Warner the fastest breaststroke kicker, male or female, anywhere in the world. (She was also the American record holder in the women's 200 m breaststroke.) When you beat her kicking, Haines told Hait the first day of practice, then you will know you are ready.

Haines was amazingly prescient. Hait dominated the 100m breaststroke at Trials, touching a second and a half ahead of the second place finisher. However, Haines didn't foresee an appeal by James "Doc" Councilman. Counsilman, like Haines, would soon become a coaching icon. He was three years into building a powerhouse at Indiana University. One of his young stars was Chet Jastremski, who in 1961 would obliterate the world records in both the 100m and 200m breaststroke.

What happened next is hard to say for sure. Counsilman and all the members of the Olympic committee have passed away. Record keeping was sparse. Most swimmers and coaches who were at the Trials agree that there was some sort of prior arrangement relating to men's breaststroke. Jastremski is quite specific. He remembers that the first cut was finishing fourth or better in the 200. The best among those four in the 100 would go to Rome. Jastremski was second in the 200 - Hait was seventh - and of the top four, he did best in the 100.

"I can understand the argument for the other side," says Jastremski, a physician living in Bloomington, Ind. "Paul won the 100, so he feels he should have made the relay. But the criteria were set prior to the Trials. My name was already on the board as a member of the Olympic team. Things should not have changed."

Hait recalls nothing of the sort. His understanding was that the winner of the 200 and the 100 would go to Rome.

"The only reason for any of that was that I had the shortest training period in the history of swimming," Hait says. "Counsilman thought my win was a fluke."

A private meeting of Counsilman and the Olympic Committee ensued. Hait waited in the bleachers beside the pool. Haines checked on the meeting periodically and provided updates. Criteria aside, the Olympic Committee wanted to win the 400m medley relay in Rome. More specifically, they wanted to beat the Australians, who had dominated Olympic competition four years earlier. Hait had beaten Jastremski decisively in the 100 (1:135 vs. 1:15.2). That, and Hait's consistent swimming three weeks earlier at Nationals, ruled the day. After three hours, Councilman threw in the towel. Hait was on the team.

"I can remember him (Haines) approaching me with a serious look on his face, " Hait says, "I'm thinking 'This is not good.' Then he breaks into a smile and says, 'Nice going, Ace." You're going to Rome.'"
After all that Hait had gone through, the rest is almost anti-climatic. The American medley relay in Rome set the world record in the preliminaries with Hait and three second-stringers. In the finals, Hait and the rest of the first team beat the Australians by nearly seven seconds in another world record time. Hait had proven his doubters wrong.

And he was no fluke. Three months before the Trials in 1964, he returned to Haines and the Santa Clara Swim Club. He hadn't trained since he had graduated from Stanford in 1962. "Here we go again," Haines said the first day of practice.

Hait worked during the day as an engineer and practiced in the last afternoon. This time, however, he couldn't pull it off. Despite swimming nearly two seconds faster than in 1960, he finished seventh in the Trials and didn't make the team.

"I didn't give it much thought at the time," he says. "I just set a goal and went after it. It scares me now when I think of the kind of determination I had."