article courtesy of the San Jose Mercury News, 6/9/2008

Students push San Jose teacher to reach Olympics

By Mark Purdy



Some people make the Olympic team on guts and faith. Kevin McMahon might
make this year's U.S. hammer-throwing roster on serendipity and muscle
memory.

"Providence, too," McMahon said the other day, offering another possible
explanation for how he could end up in Beijing instead of taking his
regular August vacation to Tahoe with his wife.

You've heard about sports stories that are too good to be true. This one
is too good not to be true. Here is how it came down:

McMahon, a teacher and coach at Bellarmine College Prep in San Jose and
at Stanford University, was long retired from his competitive life as a
two-time U.S. Olympic hammer thrower. But he lost a whimsical bet to his
Bellarmine pupils. The whimsical bet required the 36-year-old McMahon to
try to qualify for one more Olympic team, eight years after he made his
last one for the Sydney Games.

So. Five weeks ago at a Modesto meet, McMahon gave it the old
what-the-heck try. And he had a holy-cow-can-you-believe-it result. He
discovered that he's still throwing the hammer farther than all but one
or two other U.S. competitors.

In other words, if he performs well at the Olympic trials in three weeks
in Oregon, McMahon has a real shot at representing the United States
again. No one is more stunned than McMahon himself.

One more chance

"This wasn't like a vision quest or a big comeback or anything," he said.
"It's like the universe is giving me one more chance to go out on my
terms."

In pursuit of that chance, McMahon again hauled his 16-pound hammer out
to Moffett Field on Sunday morning, for another of his random training
sessions. The local throwing community - as always, inspired by Olympic
legend Ed Burke of Los Gatos - has built a makeshift ring that's tucked
between two softball fields and Highway 101.

"I like to think of the traffic noise as Olympic crowd noise," McMahon
said. "People honk when they drive by and everything."

If only those honkers knew. Maybe we should tell them, by starting at the
beginning of McMahon's unlikely adventure.

Hammer throwing is one of those unique Olympic specialties. It requires a
person to spin the body around like crazy while holding a large ball of
metal at the end of a chain - and then launching the entire ball and
chain into the air with a violent heave.

For more than a decade, McMahon launched and heaved well enough to become
a two-time national hammer-throwing champion and a participant in the
1996 and 2000 Olympics. However, all this puts major stress on a man's
body parts. And back in 2004 as McMahon attempted to make one more U.S.
team, he was feeling the entire menu.

"You name it - my hip, my back, my shoulder, everything was hurting," he
said. "My hands and fingers were so swollen, they started to look like
cartoon hands with big blown-up fingers . . . I was competing because it
was what I thought I had to do, but it became a bit of drudgery. A lot of
the joy had been lost."

Thus, after failing to qualify for Athens, his decision to retire came
very easily.

"I was done," he said.

McMahon returned to Bellarmine, his alma mater, and put his Georgetown
degree to good use. He taught English and computer graphics. He also
coached weight events for the school's track team. However, hammer
throwing isn't a high school event. He seldom touched his old equipment.

Then, last spring, four of McMahon's discus throwers issued a challenge.
The four - Andrew Estko, Stephen Powell, Alex Power and Matt Ramos - made
McMahon promise that if they all improved their throws by 10 feet or
more, he would have to try out for one more Olympic team.

"It was kind of a tongue-in-cheek bet, I thought," McMahon said. "But
they all did improve that much. So they kept after me. Those guys were
exactly what I needed to teach me how throwing can be fun again."

Out for a spin

Six months ago, McMahon also accepted the position of Stanford's throws
coach, which left him even less time to train. But he managed to squeeze
in hammer sessions here and there. And his body, no longer hurting,
responded much better than he thought.

On May 10, McMahon took a few of his Stanford athletes to the California
Relays in Modesto. He also entered the hammer throw, his first true
competition in almost four years.

"I had ripped my hand wide open that week," McMahon said. "I figured I
might throw 70 meters, which would qualify me for the U.S. trials. But
when I let go, I didn't think it was a very good throw. After I released
it, I yelled, 'Oh, no!' "

Then the judges measured. McMahon's distance was 75.08 meters. It was the
second-best throw by an American this year. And farther than he'd thrown
in either of his Olympic appearances.

"Part of me thought, 'That's laughable,' " McMahon said. "But all of
those throws I made over the years, I guess you don't forget. It wasn't
my first rodeo."

McMahon can make the U.S. team if he wins the Olympic trials in Eugene or
if he finishes in the top three and throws the hammer at least 78.5
meters to meet the "A" Olympic qualifying standard.

Tough? Yes. But hardly impossible. McMahon's lifetime best is 79.26
meters. All it takes is one throw.

"I have promised myself that no one is going to have more fun at the
trials than I am," McMahon said. "And that doesn't have to mean I make
the team. It's just going to be nice to have a peaceful closure on my
career, whatever happens."

Honk if you believe in muscle memory. And serendipity. And providence.