%%USERNAME%%    %%ACCWORDS%% %%ONOFF%% |
 As the first blog entry got exhausted. My second book |
| Evolution of Love Part 2 |
| He dominated the 1912 Olympics so completely that the King of Sweden called him "the greatest athlete in the world." A year later, they stripped his medals and erased his name from the record books. Jim Thorpe died in poverty in 1953, still fighting to get them back. Thirty years after his death, they finally admitted they were wrong. Stockholm, Sweden. Summer 1912. The Olympics. Jim Thorpe was representing the United States in track and field. He was competing in the pentathlon and decathlon—grueling multi-event competitions that tested every athletic skill: running, jumping, throwing, endurance, speed, strength. The decathlon alone took three days and ten events. It was designed to find the world's greatest all-around athlete. Jim Thorpe didn't just win. He demolished the competition. In the decathlon, he finished first, beating the second-place finisher by nearly 700 points—a margin so enormous it would stand for decades. In the pentathlon, he dominated similarly, winning by massive margins in multiple events. When it was over, King Gustaf V of Sweden presented Jim with his gold medals. The King reportedly said: "Sir, you are the greatest athlete in the world." Jim's response was characteristically modest: "Thanks, King." The American press went wild. Jim Thorpe returned home to a ticker-tape parade down Broadway in New York City. His name was in every newspaper. He was the pride of the nation, proof of American athletic superiority. For a Native American man from the Sac and Fox Nation who'd grown up in poverty on a reservation, who'd been sent to boarding schools designed to "kill the Indian, save the man," who'd faced discrimination his entire life—this was a moment of vindication. Jim Thorpe was the greatest athlete in the world. The King of Sweden had said so. The Olympic records proved it. Then, in January 1913—just six months after his Olympic triumph—a newspaper published a story. Jim Thorpe had played semi-professional baseball in 1909 and 1910, earning about $2 per game while playing in the minor leagues. Under Olympic rules of that era, athletes had to be pure amateurs. Accepting any money for any sport—even yearsearlier, even tiny amounts—meant you weren't eligible. The Amateur Athletic Union launched an investigation. The International Olympic Committee got involved. The verdict came swiftly. Jim Thorpe's Olympic medals were stripped. His records were erased. His name was removed from the Olympic record books as if he'd never competed at all. The gold medals he'd won? Handed to the second and third-place finishers. The greatest athletic performance in Olympic history up to that point? Officially, it never happened. Jim was devastated. He wrote a letter trying to explain: he'd played baseball innocently, not knowing it would affect his amateur status. Other athletes had done the same but used fake names to hide it. Jim had used his real name because he didn't think he was doing anything wrong. It didn't matter. The decision stood. Here's what makes this particularly cruel: many Olympic athletes of that era were wealthy men whose families could support them while they trained full-time. They could afford to be "amateurs" because they didn't need the money. Jim Thorpe was poor. He'd grown up on a reservation. Playing baseball for $2 a game had helped him survive, not made him rich. And while wealthy white athletes competed in the Olympics with financial support from their families, Jim Thorpe—who'd needed to earn money to eat—was punished for it. The rules were designed to exclude people like him. And when he succeeded anyway, they used those same rules to destroy him. Jim tried to move on. He played professional football, helping to establish what would become the NFL. He played professional baseball in the major leagues. He was extraordinarily talented at everything. But he never recovered from losing his Olympic medals. That moment of validation—standing on the podium, hearing the King of Sweden declare him the world's greatest athlete—had been taken from him. He struggled financially throughout his life. By the 1950s, Jim Thorpe—once the most famous athlete in America—was broke, working odd jobs, barely surviving. In 1950, an Associated Press poll named him the greatest athlete of the first half of the 20th century. But he couldn't pay his rent. On March 28, 1953, Jim Thorpe died of a heart attack in a trailer home in California. He was 64 years old. He died in poverty, still fighting to have his Olympic records restored. His family couldn't afford a proper burial. For three decades, Jim Thorpe remained erased from Olympic history. The record books still showed other names where his should have been. The medals he'd won were in someone else's display cases. Then, in the 1970s and 1980s, people started asking questions. Why was Jim Thorpe still being punished for earning $2 a game to survive, when the rules themselves had been unjust? Why was the greatest athletic performance in Olympic history still officially nonexistent? In 1982, the International Olympic Committee admitted the 1913 decision had been wrong. They announced they would restore Jim's medals. On January 18, 1983—exactly 70 years after his medals were stripped—the IOC presented duplicate gold medals to Jim Thorpe's family. Thirty years after his death, Jim Thorpe was finally, officially, recognized again as the 1912 Olympic pentathlon and decathlon champion. The King of Sweden had been right in 1912: Jim Thorpe was the greatest athlete in the world. It just took 71 years and Jim's death for the Olympic establishment to admit it. Think about what was taken from him. Not just medals—though those mattered. Not just records—though those mattered too. They took his moment. His validation. His proof that a poor Native American kid from a reservation could be the greatest in the world at something. They let him die in poverty while his Olympic achievements were officially erased. And they only gave it back when he couldn't hold the medals himself, couldn't see his name restored to the record books, couldn't stand on a podium one more time as the champion he'd always been. Jim Thorpe dominated the 1912 Olympics so thoroughly that decades passed before anyone matched his margins of victory. He was so good that the King of Sweden publicly declared him the world's greatest athlete. Then they stripped it all away because he'd earned $2 a game playing baseball to survive. He spent 40 years—the rest of his life—fighting to get it back. He died before they admitted they were wrong. That's the real Jim Thorpe story. Not the triumph of 1912, though that matters. Not his professional athletic career, though that was remarkable. The real story is what they took from him, and how long they made him wait—past death—to get it back. Jim Thorpe was the greatest athlete in the world in 1912. The Olympic establishment spent 71 years pretending he wasn't. And he died in a trailer home, still fighting to be recognized for what everyone who'd watched him compete had known all along: He was the best. The King of Sweden had said so. And the King was right. |
View Portfolio
Visit Notebook
Send Gift Points
Awards
Badges
Send Email
Community Newsfeed
Puzzle Hub
General Discussion
Sponsored Items
Book of Trinkets
Static Items
Books
Groups
Interactive Stories
Audio
Campfire Creatives
Community Notes
Crossword Puzzles
Documents
Folders
Images
In & Outs
Madlibs
Photo Albums
Polls
Product Reviews
Quizzes
Survey Forms
Web Pages
Word Searches
