Atop the podium where no Israeli had ever stood

ATHENS, Greece - With a half-moon rising behind him, and an orange sun plunging beneath the Saronic Gulf before him, Gal Fridman stood where no Israeli man or woman had ever set foot. He was on top of an Olympic platform, on top of the world, when the anthem started playing and the people started crying and the 32-year-old memory of 11 murdered athletes and coaches finally climbed up a Summer Games flagpole for everyone to see.

It was 8:04 p.m. in the small amphitheater when the public address announcer read these historic words: ``Ladies and gentlemen, the national anthem of Israel.'' On cue, two young Athenians dressed in white, Panayiotis Mitrou and Kostas Leontaritis, sent up Israel's flag to the sounds of ``Hatikvah,'' the Hebrew word for hope.

``We're very proud to do this for Israel,'' Leontaritis would say. ``Every country should be treated the same.''

Yes, the same. What the Israelis would give to be treated the same. What they would give for Iranian athletes to compete against theirs, fair and square, rather than forfeit as a means of declaring Israel a counterfeit state.

What the Israelis would give to negotiate their compound without the top-secret agents, the extra fencing, the heavier legacy of blood spilled and dreams stolen in the night.

``When you come to the Olympics,'' said Zvi Varshaviak, president of Israel's Olympic Committee, ``you remember the 11 that the terrorists killed (in Munich). Now they want to kill us, and we show that we are here, and we have the gold medal.''

Israel's first gold medal in any Olympic sport. Fridman won it Wednesday in windsurfing, the men's mistral, before jumping into the water and emerging to say that he won the race for countrymen who died before he was born, countrymen taken by hooded and masked Palestinian terrorists who would fly them out of the Games and into their graves.

``I hope that they are happy up there,'' Fridman said. ``When I return to Israel, I'll go to the memorial place to show them the gold medal.''

Fridman didn't weep on the highest Olympic stand. He was too busy smiling, scanning the crowd, and singing the anthem while wearing his nation's blue and white flag as a cape, the Star of David resting against his back.

Hundreds of Israeli witnesses weren't nearly as composed. Men and women waving their flags sobbed as they sang along with Fridman. The venue operators played the anthem at a faster pace than it was meant to be heard, leaving the Israelis struggling to keep up. A simple rookie mistake: Olympic officials had never before played this song.

The anthem ended at 8:06, and the party began. Horns blared in the stands. Delirious fans chanted, ``Hey, hey, Is-ra-el.'' Greek fans had come to celebrate their silver medalist and caldron lighter, Nikolaos Kaklamanakis, but they were outdone by the Israelis bent on turning the ceremony into a bar mitzvah.

The fans couldn't remain in the stands with their cameras. No, they rushed the podium and joined Fridman on gold-medal ground. Somehow, some way, half of Tel Aviv danced with the champion on a platform meant to hold one stationary adult.

Security officials were powerless against this flood of fans. Their manic attempts to gain control around Fridman spoke to the sense of permanent crisis engulfing the Israelis, as did the ultra-thorough bag checks performed at the venue's gates. Uniformed Greek soldiers even marched in to form a protective wall between Fridman and the reporters armed with notebooks and microphones trying to interview him.

Ultimately, fear would strike out.

``An amazing event,'' said Yossi Shabi, a flag-waving Israeli fan. ``This is a time for all of Israel to come together. With so much war going on, this is a time to celebrate history.''

And a time to honor the past.

``This is a great way to make a tribute to the Munich victims,'' said Baruch Ingberg, a 48-year-old Tel Aviv resident.

Fridman understood. The Israeli team had made a pre-Games pilgrimage to the Tel Aviv monument to those slain in Munich.

``I don't get into politics,'' Fridman said. ``I don't understand that stuff. ... The only thing I can want is, I would love to bring peace to Israel. The fight (should) stop in the water.

``If you fight someone, fight him in sport to prove you are better, not in different ways. This is our job as athletes, to show the other side of the Israeli people. We want peace. All of my friends I know want peace.''Fridman talked of a Turkish friend he called ``my Muslim brother,'' a friend who in turn called Fridman ``my Jewish brother.'' The windsurfer whose first name means ``wave'' in Hebrew couldn't understand the decision by Iran's world judo champ, Arash Miresmaeili, to refuse to compete against Israel's Ehud Vaks. Fridman couldn't understand how Iranian president Mohammad Khatami could say Miresmaeili's forfeit should go down ``in the history of Iranian glories.''

``Only (Miresmaeili) is losing,'' Fridman said.

Israel was winning Wednesday, its streets overflowing with first-place spoils. Israeli president Moshe Katsav and Israeli prime minister Ariel Sharon called Fridman about the mass hysteria he had inspired back home.

``(Sharon) said the whole country stopped for two hours at noon when the racing starts,'' Fridman said. ``Everyone was watching everywhere - in the cafes, the restaurants, stores and houses. Everyone was just watching TV and waiting for the gold.''

``It's a gold medal for all the people of Israel,'' Fridman said. ``We think about the people who were trying to do their best in sport and were murdered, and we hope that this will never happen again.''

The Israelis sang and cried and danced. Thirty-two years too late, a proper Olympic tribute was paid to their dead.