ON TO ATHENS
By Brian Eule, Stanford Magazine, July 2004
(photo by Glenn Matsumu)
Italy's
Alberto Angelini was used to getting hit in the head by flying water
polo balls, but this time, at the 1996 Olympics in Atlanta, the ball
came soaring from outside the pool. Angelini picked it up and hurled
it back at the eighth-grade culprit.
He nailed 14-year-old Tony Azevedo, whose father, Ricardo, was an assistant
coach for the U.S. team. Tony was responsible for chasing loose balls
and pitching them back into the pool. In his excitement, his toss had
accidentally hit Angelini. When the ball returned, smacking Azevedo
in the back, the Italian player flashed a teasing smile. Neither had
any clue that this boy would one day be described as the greatest water
polo player in the world.
Watching the ’96 Olympics and seeing the Spanish players’
glee in the final seconds before winning the gold convinced Azevedo,
’04, to dedicate himself to water polo. Four years later, barely
out of high school, he was the youngest player on the U.S. team in Sydney.
Now, as he prepares for Athens and his second Olympics, Azevedo hopes
to help the United States men’s team do something it has never
done: win the gold medal.
Azevedo’s legend couldn’t get much bigger. He has shattered
Stanford scoring records, including most goals in a season with 95 (3.4
per game) and career goals with 252. A 2003 Men’s Journal ranking
of the 20 greatest athletes in the world claimed that Azevedo has “been
known to carry three opponents on his back and still score with his
free hand.” Stanford and former Olympic coach John Vargas described
his strength as “superhuman.” The magazine put Azevedo at
No. 7. Ahead of Lance Armstrong. Ahead of Tiger Woods, ’98.
Azevedo was thrilled with the attention, mostly because it put water
polo on a par with other, more heralded sports. The Long Beach, Calif.,
native wants people to love the game the way he does, to see it the
way he does. That’s not an easy thing. In water polo, the kicking,
the scraping, the yanking, the clawing—all go unnoticed to everybody
but those in the pool. The fans don’t see how opponents pull at
armpit hair and tear at bathing suits so vigorously that some players
put Vaseline on their bodies to prevent foreign hands from grabbing
whatever’s handy.
Azevedo has suffered broken eardrums three times. Once, after the blood
finished gushing, a doctor told him there was nothing to be done about
the pain. When a coach asked what he wanted to do, Azevedo gave his
standard reply: “I want to play.” He shoved cotton swabs
in front of his broken eardrum, put
Vaseline over the swabs and pulled on his helmet. Not surprising from
a man whose favorite activities when not with the U.S. team, according
to the media guide, include “playing water polo.”
Azevedo wants to replace the final moment of the 2000 Olympics with
a better memory. Down by one goal to Russia in the quarterfinals, the
Americans stole the ball with under a minute remaining. Azevedo had
the ball with seconds to play and a seemingly clear shot at the goal.
Just as he prepared to shoot, an opponent caught him from behind and
hammered Azevedo across the head. Time expired and the United States
lost.
“That will never happen again,” says Azevedo. “Somehow,
I’ll get that shot off.”
