Adopted son does new nation proud

Swimmer Lenny Krayzelburg will not easily forget Russian heritage, however.

By JOHN ROMANO

© St. Petersburg Times, published August 12, 2000

INDIANAPOLIS -- The accent gradually has faded. The soul does not assimilate so easily.

Lenny Krayzelburg is Russian by birth, American by choice and a world champion swimmer by that very combination. In the Ukraine, he was given a sense of purpose. In the United States, he was given an opportunity.

Krayzelburg won the 100-meter backstroke at the Olympic trials Thursday night with a time of 53.84 secondds. He was .24 off his world record.

He is a proud American, pleased to have a chance to represent his adopted homeland come the Olympics next month. Yet there are places deep inside Krayzelburg, 24, that never will let go of the country of his birth.

"I still miss it," Krayzelburg said. "I'll listen to Russian music and think back to times when I was growing up. It's natural to think about your childhood because those are the happiest memories of your life."

This is a story of the American dream with a communist backdrop.

Once upon a time, Krayzelburg's family fled the former Soviet Union. They landed in Los Angeles, where his father, Oleg, and mother, Yelena, had no jobs, where Lenny had no concept of English and where the future seemingly had no use for any of them.

A champion swimmer in the Ukraine, 13-year-old Lenny struggled to find a pool in West Hollywood where he could continue his training. He settled on Santa Monica City College, which required a 50-minute one-way bus ride and a 15-minute walk, and kept him out until 10 every evening.

His high school had no swimming team, and no college coaches were waiting to chat him up on the pool deck.

From this background comes one of the world's premier swimmers. He is the world record holder in the 100- and 200-meter backstroke events. His English is flawless, his profile is movie-star perfect, and his future is one long line of dealmakers waiting for him to look their way.

"I told him he could be the best in the world," University of Southern California coach Mark Schubert said. "He obviously believed me."

Schubert never had heard of Krayzelburg even though the teenager had spent a half-dozen years training down the road from USC. Just like Santa Monica City College coach Stu Blumkin never had heard of Krayzelburg, even though the swimmer had begun his U.S. training in the Santa Monica pool.

"My first coach (in the Ukraine) told my dad I was born to be a great athlete in the backstroke when I was 9," Krayzelburg said. "My dad always remembered that, but never in my wildest dreams did I ever picture this."

The roots of Krayzelburg's success were planted in his early workouts as an adolescent in Russia. Soccer programs in Russia start when children are 6. Swimming programs start at 5. Krayzelburg got in swimming first and never left. He showed such promise at such a young age, he was placed on an Army-sponsored swimming club and was training in a weight room as a 9-year-old.

His parents were worried, however, about the Soviet Union's conflict with Afghanistan. They were concerned Lenny would be sent to war when he reached military age. They also were sure their family would always be treated as second class because they were Jewish.

When Lenny was 13, the Krayzelburgs fled and landed briefly in Rome. They hit the United States in early 1989.

They settled in a predominantly Russian section of Los Angeles, where friends took them in. Oleg found work as a chef and Yelena as a bank teller. Lenny and his sister Marsha went to American schools.

"I didn't understand anything the teachers said. I just sat in class and stared at them," Krayzelburg said. "People would always ask me about Russia, but I didn't feel I could express myself. It took five or six years to get used to the U.S., but I was still reluctant to speak to people because I was afraid they wouldn't understand me. I was like that until college."

Swimming was the one constant for Krayzelburg, but even that was not always a refuge. The transportation hassles grew too much for him, and he told his father he was ready to quit.

"He told me, "You put in so many years of training in such a hard system in Russia. It would be sad to see you quit now,' " Krayzelburg said. "He told me to change teams or do something."

Krayzelburg switched to a pool at the Westside Jewish Community Center, nearer his home. It was half the size of an Olympic pool, and he had to share it with recreational swimmers. But he was given a job as a lifeguard and was able to continue his training.

Later, he returned to Santa Monica City College to enroll in school and talked to Blumkin about swimming at the pool before classes. A year later, he was a junior-college state champion, and the year after that, Blumkin put him in touch with Schubert at USC.

With better training conditions, Krayzelburg quickly ascended to the top in the backstroke. A year after finishing fifth in the Olympic trials in the 200 backstroke, he won gold in the Pan Pacifics in the 100 and 200. Then came gold at the World Championships and later his world records.

In the intervening years, Krayzelburg returned to the Ukraine for his first visit in nearly 10 years. He visited the pool in Odessa where he first started swimming and discovered it had had been abandoned. It was used as a trash site.

"It was very disappointing," he said. "It brought tears to my eyes to see this place where it all started for me. I spent so much time there, and then I had to see it at this stage."

That is the paradox of Krayzelburg's soul. Immensely grateful for what he has been given in the United States, yet protective of the memories of his youth.

"I feel like I'm an American, although not 100 percent," Krayzelburg said. "I want to remember my heritage, my background. That's always going to be a part of me. Part of who I am today came from what I learned in Russia. I can't forget where I came from."

© St. Petersburg Times. All rights reserved.

Headlines

Americans Lose in 1st Round of Davis Cup

---