Mikey And Me

So you're writing an article on Mike Tully , the UCLA senior who set the world indoor pole vault record of 18'5�" at this year's NCAA championships. Well, you've come to the right place. I know Tully better than anyone. But before we go any further, I'd like to set something straight. That world record belongs to me, not Tully . Because I'm the pole that Mike used that afternoon in Detroit , I consider that record mine. Frankly, if you had any brains, you'd be writing an article on me, not on Tully .

I know what you're thinking—that it's the vaulter, not the pole, that makes the difference in my event. Well, if that's true, how do you explain the fact that I also hold the outdoor pole vault world record? That's right. I was the one who carried Dave Roberts over the bar at 18'8�" during the 1976 Olympic Trials. I belonged to Earl Bell then. Earl and Dave were going for the world record at the Trials when Dave's pole snapped. So Earl loaned me to him, and on the second jump we set the record.

I can tell you with all due modesty that I am the greatest pole in history. In fact, Tully 's accomplishments are a testament to my value, not to his vaulting prowess. When Earl gave me to Mike last year, Mike had cleared 18'2�" for the first time only a few weeks before and had just finished second at the NCAA Outdoor Championships. The first time Mike used me was a week later, June 11, at the AAU Championships in Los Angeles . He won there with a jump of 18'2". Since then he's cleared 18'4" in four meets, which makes him one of the world's most consistent vaulters. Late last summer we teamed up to win the World Cup in D�sseldorf on a vault of 18'4�".

This year Mike and I set an indoor record of 18'4" at the opening meet of the season, the Muhammad Ali Games in Long Beach , Calif. , and then broke that record at the NCAAs , the last meet of the indoor season. Nice symmetry to that, you have to admit. In between, Mike set a sort of unofficial world record for the highest opening height when he passed at a meet in Toronto until the bar was at 18'. Naturally, he made it. That's the kind of confidence Mike has in me.

You'd think with performances like mine Mike would at least give me a nickname. But no. I think he's trying to keep all the glory for himself, because he keeps calling me by my uncatchy flex designation, 5.75. That means that if I'm stretched out horizontally and 50 pounds are hung at my middle, I'll sag 5.75 inches. That's stiff when you consider that I'm about 16'6" long, weigh less than six pounds and am hollow. In fact, I'm so stiff that you've got to be real fast and strong to use me effectively. You've got to be world class.

Officially, I'm an AMF Voit Pacer III 500/88. That's just one of 52 different models that Voit makes. The 500 refers to my length in centimeters, and the 88 means I can support 88 kilos (194 pounds). My frame, which is 70% glass and 30% resin, is clothed in white plastic tape with red and blue trim. Mike has further adorned me with about 15 inches of white ankle-wrapping tape where he holds onto me. Being just two years old, I don't have any distinguishing scars or marks. And I intend to keep it that way. We poles will last forever if handled with care, but one good scrape or scratch and we break easily. And a vaulter who weighs more than 194 pounds could break me. On a red band at my very top is a warning similar to the one the Surgeon General requires on packs of cigarettes. Mine reads: "The weight specified on this pole is a maximum which should not be exceeded."

Despite my record, I never get any recognition, not even from my friends. For instance, Earl Bell , my first owner, says the key to Mike's success is his plant. It doesn't occur to Earl that the key is Mike's pole—then again, maybe Earl is sore because I never gave him a world record. I will admit that the plant is crucial. It is made up of three separate parts. At the same instant that the vaulter's foot hits the runway on the final stride of his approach, he has to get his right hand, which is the one higher up on the pole, straight up in the air and the bottom of his pole smack into the back of the box. If these three actions aren't perfectly synchronized, even I can't help a vaulter. I guess Earl has a point, because I have to admit that lately Mike's been doing a much better job coordinating these three elements than any other vaulter.

But those three things all take place on the ground. After that it's all me. Look at Mike's record vault. All he did was sprint 125 feet down a runway and plant me in the box. I had to do the rest. First, because I had 6'3", and 190 pounds worth of Tully hanging on one end of me, while my other end was jammed solidly into the box, I bent a full 90 degrees. A fraction of a second later, I straightened up right in front of the bar. At that point all Tully had to do was let go and drop over the bar onto a nice fat cushion.

Don't get me wrong. Mike is a great guy. Everyone will tell you that. You can't help but like him. He's polite, quiet, modest, the ail-American boy. The girls in his high school class voted him Mr. Muscle. But he's like all other vaulters—he never thinks of his pole as anything but a necessary evil. It's a measure of the disrespect vaulters have for their poles that Earl would loan me to Dave and then, even after I'd set a world record, give me to Mike.

I sometimes wonder where Mike thinks he'd be without poles. When he was in high school, he flew all the way from his home in Long Beach to compete in the U.S. Junior Championships in Gainesville , Fla. Only the plane ran over his poles or something, because when they came out to the baggage claim area they were flat as pancakes. That was it for the U.S. Juniors.