Sport: Faster, Higher, Farther

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A flourish of trumpets, a, bronze bowl flaring with fire, a grey whir of pigeons beating upward above the banners of 68 nations, a parade of athletes swearing allegiance to a sportsman's creed—all this proclaimed last week that the 1956 Olympic Games had begun.

The spectacle of 4,500 athletes from 68 countries marching in bright parade to begin the games of the "XVI Olympiad of the modern era" in Melbourne's Olympic stadium could not erase international frictions and political embarrassments. But the worldwide contest of men against men, against time and against records, was under way despite wars and tensions. Competitors who had traveled half around the world to test their grace and strength and speed and skill looked up at a bold, white sign on the big Scoreboard and smiled at its airy warning: "Classification by points on a national basis is not recognized." When a man wears his country's colors in competition, beating an opponent takes on added meaning; individual competitors, intent on winning an individual championship, may be too busy to keep score, but someone with team spirit is always around to do it for them.

American Game. In the giant international boarding house that was the Olympic Village, athletes, coaches and trainers tried to put into practice the Olympic notion that the games are above national rivalries. They talked with their opponents in sign language at the free hot-chocolate bars. In bustling Melbourne itself, bars stayed crowded, noisy and wet, despite a local law that shut off the taps at 6 p.m. sharp. Scalpers hustled $5 and $7 tickets for as much as $40, and Aussies proved themselves as sports fans by queueing up in the wind and rain, even for seats at practice sessions.

The weather had been gloomy for weeks, but for the games it kindly brightened. From the opening shot of a starter's gun, they got off to a crowd-pleasing start, and Olympic records fell like eucalyptus leaves. And, scorekeeping or no, it quickly became a suspenseful duel between the U.S. and Russia. The U.S. fielded the best team ever assembled— including such 1952 Olympic champions as Shotputter Parry O'Brien (see below). Soviet Russia, shut out of all the gold medals in men's track at the Helsinki Olympics, sent to Australia a well-trained and determined squad. Even in basketball, a game so thoroughly American that Moscow has yet to claim it was really invented somewhere back of the Urals, the Soviets showed power.

In track and field, the hard core of any Olympics, the U.S. got off to an auspicious lead. High Jumper Charlie Dumas (rhymes with humus), a lanky young (19) Los Angeles Negro, slithered over the bar in a diving roll that seemed to repeal the law of gravity, set a new mark of 6 ft. 11% in. to win. He did not have to try to better his own world record of 7 ft. ½ in.

A stringy, tireless naval officer from the Ukraine named Vladimir Kuts countered for the Russians in the lung-busting 10,000-meter grind, staying in front all the way, and finishing with an Olympic record (28:45.6) in a final sprint that left experts gaping.

Hammer Thrower Harold Connolly, 25, a high-school history teacher from Boston, made no concessions to his gimpy left arm (four inches shorter than the right), tossed the 16-lb. hammer to a new Olympic mark of 207 ft. 3½ in.