First, we needed tickets. This would be a ticketed event, although in the spirit of ancient tradition, they would not be put up for sale. They were available by lottery only, so imagine our surprise when we actually applied for and received six afternoon event tickets in the mail from the North American Olympic tickets distributor, Cartan. We had a way in.

The shot put qualifying was to be held at 8:30 a.m.; the finals at 4 p.m. To see both meant traveling a day ahead, the 17th. It also meant securing housing in Olympia. On the day of the biggest event in these parts since 393 A.D.? (That was the last of the Ancient Games, shut down by the Roman Emperor Thodosius I, who condemned the Games as a pagan ritual. In 426 A.D., Theodosius II ordered that all the statues in Olympia be destroyed. What remains covers the grounds, and fills a museum nearby.)

Kim called and emailed and after being told repeatedly that it was impossible to find accommodation in Olympia, (“It is the Olympics!”) she eventually found 2 hotel rooms.

What do we do with the two extra tickets? We offered one to our friend Cordner, but he said he wasn’t arriving in Athens until the 18th. (Originally track and field had been scheduled to officially start August 20th.) Then, our friend Bob from LA said he was planning to go to Olympia, but when he said his arrival was on the 18th, I told him it was too late. Bob found an earlier flight to Athens. Bob also had extra tickets.

Bob began looking for rental cars, as transportation to Olympia specifically went carefully unmentioned in most of the Olympic literature and the Athens 2004 website. Cartan told us, in essence: you’re on your own.

When we arrived in Athens, we were still uncertain about how to get to Olympia. Various ideas failed to pan out. Bob reported that the only thing available in all Athens was an Audi-compact at a prohibitive $200 a day, plus taxes and insurance. Were the gods against us?

Then Cheryl from Boston joined our group. Now there were six of us. Her flight to Athens would arrive at 3:45 a.m. on the 17th and in time to make it to the Peloponnese. And, Cheryl had her own tickets.

Jack took out his Avis Wizard number and went to work. Why not magic? Aha! Avis had a 9-seat 5-speed Fiat van available at its downtown Athens office, six blocks from the Acropolis, for 446 Euros total. We took it on the spot, using of course, our Master Card, not VISA, the card of the Olympic Games.

On the appointed day, Cheryl arrived at dawn. We dashed off to a morning session of table tennis at Galatsi Hall, then took the Green metro line to Avis, drove past the 1896 stadium to our apartment in Panormou, found Bob waiting on the doorstep, grabbed some fries at the neighborhood McDonalds and headed up Kifisias Avenue, out of Athens, back back back in time, through the ancient cities of Korinthos, (a rival to Athens in the age of the city-states) and Patra, then south along Kiparisiakos Bay where, if you could see that far west, you would be gazing across the Mediterranean to Sicily. Homer was everywhere.

By the time we reached Pyrgos, we were spellbound. After miles of corn fields and petrol stations, we saw our first signs for “Ancient Olympia.”

We first arrived at a very modern and elegant marble edifice on gorgeously manicured grounds of grass and olive and pomegranate trees, just outside the town limits. The swimming pool was enormous. This was our hotel! We sorted out our rooms, unloaded our gear and piled back into the Fiat for our first trip to the town of Olympia.

Olympia turned out to be more of a town than we expected and it was already crowded and lively. The main street had 10 blocks full of jewelry shops, cafes, restaurants and hotels, postcard racks and souvenir stores. We had a dinner of chicken, Greek salad, Mythos and gelato under the stars at a place called Zeus Eye, and then walked to the other end of the town where the entrance for the next morning’s event was an armed camp. No entry! A guard carrying a submachine gun explained that we would need to arrive by bus, and that separate tickets were required for both the morning (qualifying rounds) and afternoon (final) sessions. New obstacles!

We had six tickets for the afternoon only and would not be admitted to the venue for the morning session without morning tickets. Yikes! We spoke to Cartan’s and they told us there would probably be no problem using the afternoon tickets for the morning events. How many people would be there at 7 a.m. after all?

At dawn we went out on the highway and flagged down a shuttle bus. It was full! All the buses were full! At the entrance to the ancient track, where somber quiet prevailed the night before, there was madness. Hundreds of people shouting in dozens of languages, militia and guards everywhere. No, of course they would not accept afternoon tickets for the morning event! What to do? One of the Olympic crowd management personnel suggested that we go to the Information Center a few blocks away, so two of us took the extra afternoon tickets, walked back into town and hoped for a miracle.

The streets were thronged with people and the Information Center office was jammed with Olympic fans. We took our spare tickets and began our desperate appeal. Viola! Two young men from Athens had extra tickets for 0830. “You have 1600?” they asked. “Yes.” “You have two?” “Yes.” We had a deal.

After the lineup for security was behind us, it was a 20 minute walk through the hills past the ruins of Ancient Olympia. Thousands of people from all over the world were making the same journey. Suddenly, there it was, the original Olympic “stadium” -- a flat rectangle, 212 meters long and about 30 meters wide, flanked by gently sloping hillsides of grass and dirt. At one end you could see two shot put rings and hundreds of people settling down for a good view of the competition.

This was it! We ran across the hillside and found a place between the two shot put rings. There were no refreshment stands. No Coke or beer guys. No restrooms. There were no bleachers (except the seats for the VIPs across the way), no parking garages. There was one television production truck for the global feed. We had heard that NBC was sending a crew with a hand-held camera.

A small, portable sound unit allowed for music and PA. Announcements were made in Greek, French and English. At one point, I remember listening to Erik Satie while I looked at the hillsides around us in the heat and watched the warm breeze move through the trees.

The competition itself took a back seat to the setting and its history. I am told that there were 10,000 people on hand for the morning session and 20,000 for the afternoon setting. Most of the spectators were Greek and many of them locals. It was reverential.

In the qualifying the American champion Laura Gerraughty reached only 53-10.25, her worst meet of the year. Cleopatra Borel of Trinidad, familiar to us when she was a student at Maryland-Baltimore County, had a NR put of 62-.25 to get one of the precious 12 spots in the final.

The Greeks fans cheered wildly for their two countrywomen. Alas, neither made the finals, one missing by just 5 inches. It took a throw of 59-7 or better to advance to the final round.

The big news in the men’s competition was the failure of American Reese Hoffa, who did 63-7.75. His second put, called a foot foul, looked long enough to qualify. At the conclusion, Hoffa argued heatedly with officials. He was joined by U.S. coaches. This went on for 20 minutes and held up the official results. It was a scene that was, unfortunately, to be repeated later in the day.

After the preliminary round, the site was evacuated to prepare for the final event, scheduled to begin about four hours later. We were able to get back to the hotel for some lunch and decided that, given the crowds of the morning, arriving early to the afternoon session would be a good idea.

We were definitely far from the first spectators to reclaim a spot in front of the single ring that remained on the field for the men’s and women’s final. At the intros the New Zealander Adams was greeted by a Maori ritual dance performed impromptu by five big Kiwis in the middle of the huge crowd. The finalists were from China, Poland, Germany, The Netherlands, Cuba, Belarus, Russia, Spain, Slovenia, Ukraine and all had fans in attendance.

The women’s winner was Irina Korzhanenko who put 69-1.25 and then did a victory lap of the ancient grounds carrying the Russian flag, concluding the first competition held at this hallowed site in 1,611 years.

The men’s competition was dramatic, won by Yuriy Belonog of the Ukraine on his final put, whereupon the American Adam Nelson surpassed that but fouled. Nelson argued vehemently with the officials, while Belonog stood by. In time, the Ukrainian took a victory lap. He would eventually receive a wreath of wild olive, just as the first Olympic champion hard received, 2,780 years earlier, at this exact same spot.