U.S. OLYMPIC FESTIVAL LOS ANGELES 1991 : The Most Venuable Players : A Day in the Festival, or Tom and Jerry’s Excellent Adventure

(Editor’s Note: Times staff writers Jerry Crowe and Thomas Bonk were given a difficult assignment--write a story about a day in the life of the Olympic Festival. Crowe was dispatched to a car and Bonk took a spot in the office behind a keyboard. What follows is true, no names were changed to protect the innocent.)

I was working the day shift out of sports when the chief told me he needed to see me right away. Get your partner and check into this Olympic Festival thing, he said. See what you can turn up, he said. My partner’s name is Jerry Crowe. My name is Bonk. It was Wednesday.

Our orders were to visit every single place where an Olympic Festival event is going on, all in one day. We checked into it. There would be 13 venues in all. We stop to snoop, Crowe said. Funny guy, I said.

The orders came from downtown. Directly from the chief’s office. The Big Man in the glass cage. Crowe would do the leg work, then phone me at my desk so we could get it all down on paper.

There’s just one more thing, Crowe said. He wanted to know what he should look for. I told him.

“Just the facts, man.”

Loyola Marymount, 8:30 a.m., field hockey

Crowe’s first report is actually a traffic report--a BMW has just rear-ended a bus on Sepulveda while he is on his way to the venue. Arriving safely at LMU, he experiences a true Los Angeles miracle, free parking. Crowe counts 37 people in three rows of stands watching the North battle the East. Crowe, already hungry, is saddened to discover there are no concession stands around, although a full complement of Olympic Festival souvenirs is readily available.

A newcomer to field hockey, Crowe watches silently along with the three dozen fans until the peace is broken when someone yells “Come on, beat Penn State.” Crowe learns that the East team has eight players from Penn State. But one player from Penn State is on the North team. So Crowe is unsure who the guy is pulling for.

Crowe is intrigued by field hockey. “There is no penalty box, no power plays, but worst of all, there are no fights,” he says. “And just when I was leaving, they called a penalty for failing to make the ball motionless. It seems like it should be just the opposite, that you should get a penalty for making the ball motionless.” This field hockey may take some getting used to, Crowe admits.

Redondo Beach, 9:09 a.m., bowling

Entering the South Bay Bowling Center, Crowe hears someone in charge addressing the event’s volunteers. “If we have a lean crowd, we can have more of a relaxed situation,” the person says. “ If ?” says Crowe. He talks to one ticket-vendor who says she has sold 10 tickets. When the bowling starts 21 minutes later, there are 12 people in the stands. He interviews one of them. He asks Sylvia Puleston of Torrance why she came out. “There’s nothing like watching good bowling,” she says.

Crowe decides to question employees. He is told that Festival bowlers bring their own shoes, probably so they don’t have to wait in line and rent some from the bowling center, Crowe reasons. Curious, he checks into it and discovers there are plenty of size 10 1/2 bowling shoes available and thinks about bowling a few lines himself. He decides to eat a doughnut instead.

The competitors (Crowe notices that none wear colored shoes) are using 40 of the 54 lanes. A curtain divides the Olympic Festival lanes from the rest. A “No Smoking” sign is posted in the curtained-off area of the Festival lanes. “But they’re smoking like crazy on the other side of the curtain,” Crowe says.

Outside, 11 kids are lined up in front of the theatre next door showing the film “Rainbow Brite.” There’s nothing like watching a good movie, Crowe reasons.

Westwood, 10:25 a.m., tennis

Crowe parks his car in Lot 8 at UCLA and pays $5. He waits 20 minutes for a shuttle bus to take him to the Sunset Canyon courts. One shuttle arrives and eight people get on. Six others told they will have to wait. Michael Williams of Arcadia has to wait. “They should get a bigger bus,” he says. Michael is 7.

At the venue, Crowe is told the event is sold out. He questions a volunteer when he notices that only about a third of the grandstand is filled. The volunteer tells Crowe, “I guess the corporations bought up the tickets, but our instructions were no tickee, no washee.” Crowe uses his pass to enter. Once inside, he is confronted with a veritable smorgasbord at the concessions stand--pizza, hot dogs, fresh fruit, ice cream bars. Feeling guilty for the bowling alley doughnut, Crowe gets orange juice. He pays $1.08.

The concession stand is in another area of the tennis venue, about 50 yards away. However, the fully stocked souvenir booth is right inside the main entrance. There are oversized cartoon cut-out figures with no heads that souvenir-hunters can stand behind and have their pictures taken. Crowe has his choice of being a weightlifter or a hurdler. He declines. Crowe reboards the shuttle bus at 11:02 a.m. for the trip back to Lot 8. As he places his foot inside the door, he is told the air conditioner has just gone out.

Encino, 11:31 a.m., archery

Crowe arrives at the Hjelte Sports Center only to find that the morning archery session ended 15 minutes before. He decides to look around. He discovers four members of Boy Scout Troop 431 of Encino sitting at a picnic table under an umbrella. They were supposed to act as color guards for the afternoon session, but through a mixup, they were told to get there at 10 a.m. The afternoon session wasn’t due to start until 1:30 p.m. The four tell Crowe they will wait. After all, they gave their word. Scouts’ honor and all that.

Under questioning by Crowe, scout Scott Iblings admits he failed to earn his merit badge in archery, which he could achieve by scoring 100 points of a maximum 300 points in 30 arrows. Top archers in the Festival average more than 290 points. Crowe is sympathetic. That’s archery, he says. There is a softball field adjacent to the venue. Crowe imagines what might happen if the archers showed up there by mistake. No runs, no hits, no arrows?

Shrine Auditorium, 12:33 p.m., modern pentathlon

Parking is $5, Crowe has only a $20 and the parking lot attendant can’t make change. So she has to get the change out of her purse. There are 13 people watching the fencing competition. Crowe decides to speak with competitor Sharon Sander of Granada Hills, who now lives in San Antonio. She reveals that she was not a sports fan in high school. “I was pretty much a party animal,” says Sander, who urges him to attend the show jumping at the equestrian center later.

Three spectators are watching two competitors fence. The referee, signaling the end of the fencing, says “bout.” The three guys look at each other quizzically and ask: “Who won?” After his experience with field hockey, Crowe knows how they feel.

Lyon Center, 1:18 p.m., racquetball

Parking is free at USC. Crowe is startled. Then he is offered a tip that he supposes to be equally startling. An official of the American Amateur Racquetball Assn., who wishes to remain an anonymous tipster, tells Crowe the sport’s big news is that national doubles champs Jimmy Floyd of Davison, Mich., and Tim Hansen of Atlanta, are splitting up.

Meanwhile, public address announcer Otto Dietrich is making a name for himself. When racquetball play becomes too heated, as it sometimes tends to do, Dietrich yells “Chill out!” over the P.A. system. “And he’s not even from California,” a volunteer tells Crowe. He decides to have lunch--two slices of pizza, a bowl of fruit and a piece of cake.

Dedeaux Field, 2:16 p.m, baseball

Crowe estimates a crowd of at least 200 watching the East play the North on the baseball field at USC. Crowe questions Bill Miller of Chula Vista, who is a scout for the Cleveland Indians. Miller says the quality of play here is on par with a junior college. Crowe readily agrees. Obviously, Miller should know, being around the Indians so much. Miller said scouts from virtually every team in the major leagues are watching the game.

Ryan Luzinski, the 18-year-old son of former big league slugger Greg Luzinski, comes to the plate for the East. Miller tells Crowe the younger Luzinski has a chance for a bright future in baseball. “He looks just like his dad and he’s stronger than a bull,” Miller said. Luzinski flies out to the warning track in right field.

Crowe excuses himself and passes a fully stocked souvenir stand on his way out. There is a sign on the booth that reads: “You can take your memories home.” When he reaches his car, he checks the trip meter. He has traveled 79 miles since he left home, which seems like only a memory now.

Alamitos Bay Yacht Club, 3:24 p.m., yachting

Crowe is surprised to learn that no tickets are being sold for the yachting. The reason is that everything happens three miles off-shore, so you couldn’t see anything without your own boat. For this reason, Crowe is unable to view any women’s European dingys. Crowe has never seen women’s European dingys from any distance, so he is chagrined. “For the novice yacht spectator, it’s a rude awakening,” he says. “Sadly, this is not a spectator sport, which I quickly discovered.”

Eight rows of chairs are set up for the awards ceremony later on. There are more windsurfers on the lawn washing down their sails than there were people in the yacht club. The only food available is in the club’s snack shop. Of course, there is a fully stocked souvenir stand on the patio. Crowe reports the water is clean, unlike the canoe/kayak competition last weekend at Ballona Creek in Marina del Rey when high tides pulled trash bags into the water where they became lodged on the bows of some of the boats.

Cal State Long Beach, 4:11 p.m., water polo

Crowe finds that parking at the venue is easy. However, getting there isn’t. He is stalled briefly when he becomes lost trying to navigate all the one-way streets of Belmont Shore. Once at the pool for a conflict between the North and South, Crowe sees four North players dive enthusiastically into the pool and he decides that water polo players must be the most eager substitutes in all of sports. “They’re sitting on the deck of the pool, the sun beating down, crystal blue water glistening in front of them, I guess they just can’t wait to get in that water,” he says.

Back in his car, Crowe checks the contents of a tote bag given to him by Festival officials. He counts a package of nacho cheese-filled pretzels, cinnamon mini-buns, cereal, Nuprin, and Theraputic Mineral Ice. Crowe believes he has listed the items in proper sequencing for possible use. There is no sunscreen, though. Softball is next and he will have to be careful.

Encino, 5:40 p.m., softball

The 405 freeway is jammed, so Crowe listens to the sports talk shows on his car radio for 75 minutes. There is not one mention of the Olympic Festival. Crowe notices that the Boy Scouts are no longer around the Hjelte Sports Center. Probably practicing their archery, Crowe suspects. The place is named for George Hjelte, former director of the parks and recreation department. Crowe discovers that the East is playing in the men’s bronze medal game despite being outscored, 42-6, and an 0-6 record in the preliminary rounds. But since there are only four teams, the East is in.

At game time, Crowe counts seven spectators in the grandstand behind the East dugout. For the women’s bronze medal game, the stands are close to half full. Crowe passes a fully stocked souvenir stand on his way to find something to eat. He buys a snow cone for $1.50.

Westwood, 6:51 p.m., team handball

Crowe pays another $5 to park at UCLA and arrives for the East vs. West women’s game at the Wooden Center. The crowd is pretty decent. A volunteer tells him that team handball is a combination of basketball, soccer and rugby, using rules of water polo. Presumably without the pool, Crowe deduces. He is quickly enthralled by the sport. “If the UCLA basketball team passed half as well and was as willing to dive on the floor as these women, it wouldn’t have lost to Penn State in the first round of the NCAAs,” he says.

Crowe spots a fully stocked souvenir stand. He is surprised to learn that if he has a red or blue credential, he can get a free haircut in the athletic dorm from Jeffrey of Fernando’s of Beverly Hills. However, Crowe has an orange pass. “Besides, I got haircut a few days ago from Gil of Highlites of Redondo Beach,” he says.

Loyola Marymount University, 7:36 p.m., volleyball

Two surprises await Crowe at Gersten Pavilion. He doesn’t have to pay for parking and a hot dog, soft drink and popcorn costs only $4. He is told Sunday’s gold medal game is sold out, but when he calls Ticketmaster, he is informed that 800 tickets still remain. This seeming contradiction puzzles Crowe, but not as much as two questions he has had for a long time: “Why don’t the substitutes in volleyball ever sit on the bench like basketball players and why don’t spectators seated behind them ever complain?” Crowe asks himself.

He spots Wilt Chamberlain sitting in the stands among the crowd of about 1,000 who are watching the North vs. South men’s game. Wilt Chamberlain, who is 7-2, is wearing a black tank top and baggy pants. Crowe is pretty sure the spectators are relieved Wilt isn’t one of the substitutes standing up. Crowe checks his itinerary as he walks past a fully stocked souvenir stand. Only one more sport remains.

El Camino College, 8:44 p.m., wrestling

Crowe again finds free parking. He joins about 700 other spectators in the gym watching the wrestling and listening to the enthusiastic offerings of public address announcer Ed Aliverti.

“We keep reading about these attendance problems at the Festival,” Aliverti says. “Well, we haven’t had them. That’s because you are watching the world’s oldest and greatest sport.” Crowe always assumed it was something else.

Crowe takes one more look at the wrestling, then departs the gym, passing a fully stocked souvenir stand on his way out into the night. In the inky blackness, Crowe climbs into his blue Ford Tempo with the Raider sticker in the back window. The odometer showed 183 miles for the day. Crowe’s shift is over and he is bone weary. On Thursday there will be action in 15 Festival events. But Crowe is relieved. Like just about everyone else in the city, he won’t see any of them.

9:31 p.m., Aviation Boulevard.

Crowe calls once more. He is less than a mile from home, but he isn’t getting any closer. His car has run out of gas.