Jeremy Wariner

JEREMY WARINER, UP CLOSE AND PERSONAL

Headline Act Jeremy Wariner's Life Has Changed Dramatically Since Winning Olympic Gold

May 1, 2005

By Joseph Smith - Copyright 2005 McClatchy Newspapers, Inc.

The tinted shades are more than just a trademark for Jeremy Wariner.

They also serve as a shield of sorts.

The 21-year-old, who shocked the track world at last summer's Athens Olympics by winning the gold medal in the 400 meters, likes the limelight about as much as he does pulled hamstrings.

He doesn't mind signing autographs or responding to fan mail, but he'd rather let his feet do the talking.

Those close to Wariner say his fierce focus is aided by his sunglasses which, aside from their stylish design, help him shut out those around him.

That includes both the world-class sprinters Wariner wants an edge over, and the casual fans who remark about his race -- white -- instead of the race.

After all, Wariner is the first white American to win an Olympic sprint medal since 1964, when Mike Larabee took the gold in the 400. That fact wasn't lost on one of Wariner's competitors at Athens, who remarked afterward: "That's the fastest white guy I've ever seen run."

Wariner deflects such statements quicker than his first steps after the starting gun.

"I've never seen it as black or white," said Wariner, who is scheduled to run the 400 Saturday in the 64th annual Coca-Cola Modesto Relays at MJC Stadium. "It's about running."

And maybe, in his case, records.

As in Michael Johnson's 400-meter world record of 43.18 seconds. Johnson, who is Wariner's agent, is Baylor University's most celebrated sprinter.

At least for now.

"I think he thinks I can (break the record), but he doesn't want to admit it," Wariner jokingly said in a conference call in late March. "I don't think he wants to see it broken yet."

BOUNCING AROUND

The Wariners' old two-story house in Arlington, Tex., couldn't hold in young Jeremy.

The youngest of three children, Wariner would pester his sister, Jennifer, and brother, Josh, making them want to pull their hair out.

Jeremy couldn't sit still. He'd follow them around, ask tons of questions.

And that was after Ritalin, a drug he took to calm his attention deficit disorder.

The activity stopped only when Wariner, then in third grade, would be lured upstairs by his siblings. They'd convince him to pop out onto the roof.

"They shut the window and left him out there alone," said Linda Wariner, laughing. "I don't want to know how many times it happened."

Wariner was typically alone amongst his peers when it came to his foot speed. On the soccer fields during grade school, he would make it seem effortless as he sped past other students. His mother likened it to "watching a wild animal run, so smooth, like he isn't even running."

Though a smooth running style came quite easily to Wariner, the gold medalist may never have run track had it not been for a bit of fate.

Mike Nelson, the track coach at Lamar High in Arlington, was also an assistant for the varsity football team. One hot May morning, during spring drills, Nelson saw a lean freshman whipping past his defensive backs as if they were stop signs.

Shocked, Nelson called Wariner over.

"Jeremy, you should go out for track."

Wariner: "Well, I play baseball."

Nelson said he forgot about the conversation until the next year. That's when after Wariner's basketball season was over, his father, Danny Wariner, approached Nelson. Jeremy had spent most of his freshman baseball season on the bench, and his father encouraged him to try track.

Basketball season ended on a Tuesday. Three days later, without any workouts, Wariner ran a 400-meter race for the junior varsity.

Nelson said he broke the sophomore record with a 50.7.

One opposing coach said: "If you got that kid on JV, you must have a really good varsity."

One week later, Wariner ran a 48.7 for varsity. Nelson was amazed at not only Wariner's fluid running motion, but his uncanny oxygen efficiency.

"I've had a kid run good 400-meter times and it'd take them 30 minutes to get their breath back," he said. "They'd be bent over double. But Jeremy was never like that. He could finish a race and go right to his warmdown."

Wariner, as a junior, ran in the 46s and won the regional meet, attracting attention from all kinds of colleges.

Even a recruiter from Florida A&M, a predominantly black university, called Nelson to inquire about Wariner.

They had seen his time, and figured ...

"I heard comments all the time," Linda Wariner said. "After one race, Jeremy's senior year, a lady asked me if he was mixed.

"I just said 'No.'"

Nelson said Wariner opened his eyes during the regional meet his senior year, when he jokingly asked Jeremy for a "retirement present."

Wariner responded by running a 45.57 in the 400, then an hour later doing the 200 in 20.41 -- both meet records.

No gift wrap was needed.

Said Nelson: "That's Jeremy for you."

GOOD AS GOLDEN

Going to Waco's Baylor University, running for legendary coach Clyde Hart -- who trained Johnson, the world-record-holder -- was a no-brainer for Wariner.

"I want to run in the Olympics," he told Hart.

Run? Yes. But win? Yikes.

"This wasn't the year we were expecting him to go (to the Olympics) in the open quarter," Nelson said. "There were three or four pros at the (Olympic Trials), capable of running fantastic times. ...

"But after awhile, me and (Danny Wariner) looked at each other, and I said:

"He might just win this thing."

At the Athens Olympics, riding unbridled confidence, the Baylor sophomore became the first athlete ever to win the indoor and outdoor collegiate titles, the U.S. Championship and the Olympic gold medal in the 400.

Donning sunglasses, two earrings and a thick silver chain, Wariner led a U.S. sweep with a personal-best 44 seconds flat.

Linda Wariner jumped up and down in her seat.

Nelson stood in awe.

But Wariner did no chest-thumping. Showing up his opponents isn't his style.

"I got the school record," Wariner told Hart afterward.

"You still didn't get 43," the wise, white-haired coach replied.

Said Wariner: "Something else to work for."

GROUNDED, NOT ROOTED

From that moment on, plenty has changed in Wariner's life.

One minute, he's a college sophomore who has to borrow grocery money from his mother.

The next, he's one of the hottest names in track and field, owner of a lucrative endorsement deal with Adidas.

He can't lift a fork at a restaurant without being asked for an autograph. Letters from supporters around the world arrive at his parents' home in Grand Prairie, Texas.

Wariner has his own accountant and a three-bedroom duplex just outside of Waco. He even bought a 2005 white Mercedes E55, with a gray interior and a state-of-the-art sound system.

But those superficial things are not what define Wariner.

The 21-year-old is still very quiet, very private, one who loves staying inside and surfing the Internet, or hanging out with girlfriend Michelle Milton or best friend Darold Williamson, his Baylor and Olympic teammate who he ran with on the gold medal 4x400 team.

Then there's Wariner's home on the track, the one place he can tune everything else out, and feel in complete control.

Shades on.

Then it's Wariner against the clock.