November 24
Györ, Hungary
GYMNASTICS figures prominently—or, at least a gymnastics figure figures prominently—in my next stop. Györ (pro- nounced “jer” and rhymes with “her”) is strategically located
between Vienna and Budapest, and it was first populated by the
Celts in the fifth century B.C. Today’s Györ, a bright mélange of
ancient squares and trendy shops, boasts 1988 Olympic pommel horse
gold medalist and native son Zsolt Borkai as its mayor (see story’s
title page).
Györ is just as its slogan claims, “A City for Everyone.” Over two
centuries ago an Irish priest fled here with a painting of the Virgin
Mary in the 1700s, and worshippers have been visiting the Basilica to
see his “Weeping Madonna” since the work mysteriously shed tears
and blood on St. Patrick’s Day 1767. Szechnyi Square, constructed
in the 17th century and arguably the town’s favorite meeting place, is
in the midst of a 21st-century face-lift. In a bakery around the corner
I enjoy a “Hadi retes” pastry stuffed with cherry filling and a ques-
tionable-looking black substance to which the manager refers as
“opium.” (I assume she means poppy seeds.) Down the street I pur-
chase some hand-painted ceramics in a shop where the shopkeeper
and I shared a pleasant “conversa-
tion” conducted entirely in her
Hungarian and German, and my
Russian and French.
A cordial staff greets me in the
foyer of Györ’s ornate neo-Baroque
town hall, where Mayor Borkai pre-
sides. As loaded as Borkai’s calendar
is, he is relaxed and unhurried as we
settle into the interview in comfort-
able chairs on one side of his spa-
cious office. Orsolya Gyarmathy,
Györ’s international consultant, is as
meticulous and capable an interpreter
as one could imagine, and Borkai
speaks passionately about his athletic
and political missions. (See “Dismount” page in this issue.) His
demeanor is both dignified and humble. The conversation drifts to his
family life, and he notes, face alight, that he and his wife, Myrtill, were
high-school sweethearts who reunited some years later. Their 17-year-
old-daughter, Petra, is a dancer. (“She is almost a woman, so now my
job is to look out for her,” Borkai jokes.) Their son, Adam, is a mem-
ber of Hungary’s Under- 15 national soccer team.
Borkai is perhaps at his most modest when I ask him to compare his
pommel horse expertise with that of Hungary’s latest star on the event,
Krisztian Berki. “I couldn’t beat him,” Borkai says instantly with a
chuckle. “Gymnastics has improved a lot over the years, and my physi-
cal shape isn’t as good as before, so I wouldn’t have a chance against
Berki. But this isn’t the goal. The goal is for him to go to the next
Olympic Games, and of course I support him, because I think he really
has a chance for a medal.”
With Borkai’s backing—and financial support for all of Hungary’s
athletes, a key item on Borkai’s political agenda—Hungarian hopes can
aim high again.
Borkai is perhaps at his
most modest when I ask
him to compare his pommel horse expertise with
that of Hungary’s latest
star on the event,
Krisztian Berki. “I
couldn’t beat him,”
Borkai says instantly
with a chuckle.
November 25
Bratislava, Slovakia
JUST after gymnastics author, professor and historian Anton Gajdos greets me at the central train station in the Slovakian capital of Bratislava, I know I am in for a whirlwind of sites,
anecdotes and souvenirs. Anton, who has resided in Bratislava for 50
years, might just as easily be deemed the city’s unofficial mayor. Our
walking tour of the city, enhanced by Anton’s vivid commentary about
the people, places and history of his adopted hometown, is interrupted
several times as we pause to greet passersby and longtime friends who
The esteem with which Bratislava holds him is also evident in his
civic relationships. He indulges me in private tours of town hall and the
presidential palace, the latter tour conducted by Anton’s friend, who
happens to be the press secretary for Slovak President Ivan
Gasparovic. Many of the rooms remain off-limits to the public. We
stop to flip through the gilded guestbook, where dignitaries and heads
of state have left warm words of thanks and gratitude for the reception
they received. Curiously, the British royalty inscribed their page with
the simple signatures “Elizabeth” and “Philip.” Our visit ends with a
memento presented to me on behalf the president and his wife.
Following a brief climb to the Bratislava Castle high above the Danube,
we proceed to Anton’s home, where my tour of gymnastics history was
ready to begin.
Areas of the spacious flat where Anton and his wife raised their two
children resemble a museum. Overstuffed photo albums, autographs,
postcards, articles and other gymnastics-related works (including 12
books that Anton wrote, and which have been published in four languages) crowd the shelves in lovingly haphazard fashion. In two hours
Anton takes me through a century of gymnastics, recalling poignant
reunions with legendary gymnasts such as Polina Astakhova in Kiev
just a year before her death, and Leon Stukelj in Bled, Slovenia, on
the occasion of Stukelj’s 100th birthday. Dearest among Anton’s
mementos, he says, are the two world championship bronze medals
presented to him by his brother, two-time Olympian Pavel; and pearl-laden artwork given to him by the late Yukio Endo, who won the all-around at the 1964 Olympics.
Anton’s collection is priceless testimony to the barriers he has
crossed to educate and enlighten. He says he never joined the communist party that ruled then-unified Czechoslovakia for much of his adult
life, but international recognition of his value to sports would not be
denied. During Anton’s career, he was a visiting professor at universities from Russia to Iraq to the U.S. He coached and judged at the inter-
Anton’s collection is priceless testimony to the
barriers he has crossed to educate and enlighten.
He says he never joined the communist party that
ruled then-unified Czechoslovakia for much of his
adult life, but international recognition of his
value to sports would not be denied.
