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Apr 23, 2008
By Keith Quinn

As a 25 year old cub reporter for the New Zealand Broadcasting Corporation I was selected to go to the Summer Olympic Games in Munich Germany in August-September 1972.

I had never been out of New Zealand before and so everywhere I went I had eyes as big as soup plates.

On the journey over my main memories are of getting off the plane at Fiumicino Airport in Rome and standing boggle-eyed counting the Jumbo jets on the tarmac. I kid you not, there were 29 there.

On arrival in Munich my most lingering memories are of seeing colour TV for the first time at a lounge at the airport.

My Olympic accommodation, a flat which I was to share with three or four others, was in a big new family-sized apartment block.

Sleepless nights

I was so excited I could not sleep. So naturally I had to find a drinking mate for the first night.

A friend from Wellington, Armin Lindenberg of The Dominion, (now prominent in PR in Auckland) just happened to be in the Press Bar.Aided by excitement and jetlag he and I proceeded to slog it out all night until it was time to hit the hay at about 5a.m. We were 25 years old remember!

During the mammoth first session I quickly got into the Olympic swing of things.I chatted to every reporter I could find from any nation. And I handed them each an NZBC Olympic lapel badge.I had been given the job of carrying over a large lolly-sized bag of such badges to be carefully divided among the six of us who were the full New Zealand Broadcasting team.

When I awoke next morning all of the full complement of badges had gone to my new world friends. I was not a popular chap with my touring buddies.

My commentary tasks in Munich were two-fold. Firstly I was assigned the swimming events.

That was to occupy the first half of the fortnight of competition. Then I was to switch over to radio at the track and field.

I was absolutely rapt at those two choices.

Spitz was the star

The swimming was a wonderful experience. Munich was the Games of Mark Spitz of course.

He rushed to seven gold medals and I called them all for radio. The other super-fish I remember were Shane Gould of Australia and Shirley Babashoff of USA.

The swimming was of such a high standard that I think there were 32 world records set in a week.To this day I still have all the old commentaries on reel-to-reel tapes in a suitcase in my garage.

The New Zealand swim team did not fare so well. Hardly any of them progressed through beyond the heats.

Sitting in the commentary booth next to me was the Radio Telefis Eireann (RTE) commentator from Dublin, a lovely bloke called Jim Sherwin.

Groundhog day

Each morning he and I would greet each other with a world-weary smile of resignation that "our team is not going to go too well today."

And so it proved. Jim became a good friend on many trips to Olympic and rugby tours in the years after.

For the track and field at the main Olympic stadium things were even more dramatic and exciting.

I could hardly believe being there. It was truly a dream come true. There was a sense of history in every race.

As gold medals were battled for and won or lost I always felt the hairs on the back of my neck rise and fall. I called the experience 'hackles.' I have felt it many times in the years since in my Olympic experiences.

In Munich the Soviet Valery Borzov won the double in the sprints as did the grim-faced Renate Stecher in the womens.

I remember Uganda's John Akii-Bua amazing the world with a shock victory in the 400 metres hurdles.

Spearing the gold

And Klaus Wolfermann threw to win the Men's javelin in the sixth and final round.

The crowd went absolutely wild. Klaus was a hometown boy.

A couple of other memories come back to me as I write this over 32 years later.

In the marathon I was doing a live radio call to New Zealand as it looked like our Jack Foster was in with a medal chance.He was in about 8th place. At the latest report they told us that Frank Shorter of USA was in the lead so our heads all craned to the stadium entranceway to see him come in.

But a huge roar went up from the crowd as another runner entered.He must have passed Shorter just before the stadium. Or so we thought.

We broadcasters grabbed for our binoculars to catch a look at his number. Then it dawned on us.

The great hoax

He was an imposter who had just jumped onto the street outside the stadium and had been ushered ahead by the unsuspecting officials.

Of course he was grabbed, though not before he had run half a circuit of the 400 metre track.

The laughter and distraction lowered the excitement of Frank Shorter coming in and going on to secure the gold medal.

And then there was everyone's sweetheart. If Wolfermann was the male local hero, then Heidimarie Rosendahl was the female darling.

John Lennon spectacles

She was oh-so cute with her lovely shape, her little John Lennon spectacles and her supreme athletic talent.

She won the long jump gold medal, followed by a silver medal in the pentathlon and was then picked to anchor the West German leg of the 4 x 100 metre relay.

As the teams ran to the finish in that race, she was to mark the powerhouse East German amazon, the afore-mentioned Renate Stecher.

As the relay came to the whirl of its last change, West Germany held the lead from the East.

The baton was handed to Rosendahl. There was a perfect switch behind her too, by the Eastern team, to Stecher.

Around the curve they raced with Rosendahl two metres in front. We all picked it would surely be impossible for her to hold off the double Olympic sprint champion.

Unprecedented cheers

The crowd took up the running and the loudest cheer I have ever heard in sports urged Rosendahl on to the line.

Amazingly, she held the margin and West Germany took the gold.Stecher stomped off in anger. The sweetheart waved to her people in frenzied delight. I will never forget it.

Of course my experiences at Munich, like those for everyone else who was there, are overclouded with the Arab-Israeli terrorism incident.

When the Arab Black September group stormed the Israeli team headquarters and shot dead several athletes it became a horrifying situation to be close to.

Quite simply the terrorism also blew the Games apart. It all happened and we were only part way through the great fun!

With the Games suspended while the police moved in we waited to see what the hostages would do.

Like everyone else there, I was devastated. I had turned 26 in the first week of competition. I was blissfully happy.

My wife Anne, back in Auckland where we lived at the time, was pregnant with our first baby.

I was at the Games of my dreams...

Part Two to follow on tvnz.co.nz on Thursday as Quinn recalls the horrific terrorism attack and its effect on his own career.....