Out of a sea of cheering faces Charlene Morett spotted the most important two.
She was marching with the rest of the U.S. women’s field hockey team in the opening ceremony of the 1984 Summer Olympics. As the procession rounded a bend in the Los Angeles Memorial Coliseum track, Morett spied her mother and brother in the lower stands.
They were sitting next to, of all people, the cast of the TV show “Dallas.” But as far as Morett’s shouting family was concerned, the real celebrity was parading past in a red, white and blue warm-up suit.
“I could hear my name,” Morett recalled.
With that, the disappointment from four years before faded a little more.
Morett, the Penn State field hockey coach, made the team that qualified for the 1980 Summer Olympics in Moscow, only to stay home when the U.S. boycotted the Games.
The decision hurts still. “Miracle” may be a popular film about the “Miracle on Ice” U.S. men’s ice hockey team winning gold at the 1980 Winter Olympics, but Morett, now 50, can’t watch it.
“I know I’ll get to it,” she said. “It’s just a block, to me, of what could have been.”
Twenty-eight years ago, the future looked bright for Morett and her national squad teammates.
In just a year, they had risen from 11th place in the world to finish third in the 1979 Women’s World Hockey Cup and earn a spot in the six-team Olympic field. That winter, they trained hard, inspired further by the stunning American ice hockey triumph over the Soviet Union in Lake Placid, N.Y.
Morett, a Darby native who starred at Penn State, heard rumors about a U.S. boycott in response to the Soviet Union’s invasion of Afghanistan. She didn’t believe them. Even John Lucas, an Olympic historian at Penn State, assured her the team would go to the first Olympics with women’s field hockey.
The bad news came at an indoor tournament in Lock Haven. Shocked, Morett wept bitterly. But a friend who had played college football didn’t let her brood for long.
“He came to my door the next morning and said, ‘Let’s go, we’re going to train for 1984,’ ” Morett said.
Not all of her teammates had the same option.
“I was lucky,” Morett said. “I was one of the youngest members of the team.”
She threw herself into becoming an Olympian again. So did other jilted players. As the host country, the U.S. had an automatic berth in 1984, but the national team set out to prove its mettle. It competed overseas, trained together in Philadelphia and left behind the Americans’ old reputation for good fitness and little else.
“We finally got fit and skilled,” Morett said. “That’s what made us dangerous.”
With Morett and two other Penn Staters, Chris Larson and Brenda Stauffer, the U.S. team arrived in Los Angeles as giddy as kids on a field trip — a close-knit bunch denied no longer.
After a long day of hauling gear and passing through security, the team settled in its quarters at the University of Southern California. A few doors down roomed basketball players, nice guys fresh from college named Michael Jordan and Patrick Ewing.
It was like being back in the dorms. Jordan and company came over to a field hockey kickoff party. Morett sometimes took their calls on the hall phone.
Regardless of status, they were Olympians, for most a bond that crossed over sports and transcended ego. Morett befriended star swimmer Rowdy Gaines and gymnast Kathy Johnson. In the Olympic Village, athletes were always chatting.
“Everybody would say, ‘How’d you do today?’ ” Morett said. “There was just so much genuine support.”
On the field, however, the left winger preferred her camaraderie in small doses. She had a good reason — cracked ribs.
“I was in a lot of pain when we played,” she said. “After we scored, I was like, ‘Nobody can hug me.’ ”
In the end, all the Americans were in agony.
Australia played the Netherlands in the final match of the round-robin tournament. In the stands were the Americans, rooting for the Dutch and biting their nails. An Aussie victory would have nixed their medal chances.
When the Dutch prevailed 2-0, leaving Australia and the U.S. tied for third, down to the field came Morett’s team for a penalty shoot-out. Five players from each squad took 10 shots over two rounds.
The Americans nailed them all — good for the bronze and a Champagne-soaked celebration.
Today, 24 years after a magical ticker tape parade through New York for the U.S. Olympians, two medals tell the tale of Morett’s experience.
Her Congressional Gold Medal, a consolation prize given to her in 1980 at the White House, sits in a box hidden away.
Her other award, beautifully framed in her office, evokes the same emotion every time she looks at it.
“It’s pride,” she said. “It may look bronze to everybody, but it’s gold to me.”
Chris Rosenblum can be reached at 231-4620.
(One of a series, "Olympians among us")





























































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