I’ve adored Greg Louganis since forever. He’s 56 and I’ll turn 56 next week. I’m a frustrated diver and he’s the greatest male diver in history. I was lucky enough to shake hands with him back in August 1983. I was an intern in a major Venezuelan newspaper covering the Pan American Games. I was assigned to cover fencing at the Academia Militar gym and managed to make it to the diving pool at Parque Naciones Unidas, in the opposite extreme of Caracas.
And there was Greg Louganis, a member of the U.S. diving team, the most perfect creature I’ve ever seen, with his olive skin, looking like a living wax Michelangelo’s statue. Dancing in the air. Flying. Free as a bird. Beautiful. Perfect. He won gold in 3mt springboard and 10mt platform.
