McClatchy Washington Bureau

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BEIJING - The loser always has a story. Vladislav Tretiak, the Soviet goalie on the flip side of the Miracle on Ice in 1980, used to talk about how wherever he went for years afterward people would ask him how the invincible Soviet Red Army hockey team could possibly lose to a bunch of American students.

Ralph Branca, the old Brooklyn Dodgers pitcher, has spoken often about the agony he felt in 1951 after he threw the fastball to Bobby Thomson, the pitch that held to the homer that led to the Giants winning the pennant, the Giants winning the pennant. Branca said that night he went into a car with a priest, a cousin of his then fianc' Ann. He asked, "Why me? I love baseball. Why would it have to be me?" And the priest said that Branca was chosen because he was strong enough to live with it. He has lived with the homer for more than fifty years.

Now, here's Alain Bernard. He is one of the great athletes of France. He is a three-time world record holder in the 100-meter freestyle. He set the record for the third time on Wednesday during the 100-meter semifinal. The record lasted less than five minutes because Australia's Eamon Sullivan broke it in the very next race. Well, that's how it's going here. Swimming world records are falling constantly because the pool at the Cube is very deep and, as such, is being hailed as the fastest pool in the world. Supposedly this pool is so fast that inside it you make microwave popcorn in 30 seconds.

Anyway, the last few days Bernard has created an unfortunate new identity from himself: He's the guy the American caught from behind. That was Monday, the 400-meter relay. Bernard was anchoring the French team. He was given a half second-lead over the United States, which in swimming terms is roughly nine miles. This should have been like giving Secretariat a head start, like giving Tiger Woods a three-shot lead on Sunday, like moving in the mound 10 feet for Johan Santtana.

In other words: There should be no physical way that anyone can make up a half-second handicap against the great Alain Bernard.

That's what made it remarkable. Jason Lezak, a 32-year-old American who had in his long and successful swimming career given no indication of being legendary, caught Bernard. He swam the final leg 46.06 - the fastest 100-meter swim n the history of mankind. It was more than two seconds faster than the leg Lezak swam in Sydney in 2000, and almost two seconds faster than the leg Lezak swam in Athens in 2004. It was, in other words, groundbreaking.

Lezak first caught Bernard (who swam a very fast 46.73), then his hand beat Bernard's to the wall by less than a tenth of a second. It was staggering. It was, probably, the moment of these Games so far, certainly for America, even more certainly for relay lead-off man Michael Phelps, who needed Lezak's miracle finish to keep his quest for eight gold medals alive and well.

"Jason was incredible," Phelps said afterward.

"I'm not going to lie, the thought crossed my mind: 'No way I'm going to do this,'" Lezak said. "Then I told myself that's ridiculous. I'm racing for my country here. I can do this."

That's the winner's story, the one we always hear. It was different for Alain Bernard. He had worked all his young life to become elite. He had built his body so that it looked more like a bodybuilder than a swimmer; his shoulders were voted the most impressive sight of the Olympic Games by one European newspaper. And he had also built up his aura; before the race, he was quoted saying: "We'll smash the Americans."

After the race, obviously, it was different. He felt too stunned to speak. He was despondent. It took the French coach, Claude Fauquet, to speak for him: "Bernard is a champion, but he has to learn how to deal defeat and, when he has learned that, to spring back. That is the sign of a champion."

And this: "I wouldn't say it is Alain Bernard who lost. I would say it is the Americans who won."

All which takes us to Thursday and the final of the 100-meter freestyle. The favorite was the world record holder, Eamon Sullivan, but eyes were on Bernard and Lezak. What would happen between them this time? Could Lezak use his historic swim to propel him to another enormous upset? Would Bernard's confidence be shattered after his shattering loss? How in the heck did Bernard build up those shoulder anyway? Does he spend his time in France lifting refrigerators?

Bernard did not show any exterior signs of worry - he smiled and waved happily when his name was announced. Of course, athletes tend to hide their feelings, but Bernard's quotes the previous days seemed to indicate he had made peace with his silver medal. "No regrets," he said. "We went as fast as we could ... the Americans were exceptional."

The race began, and Sullivan grabbed the early lead as expected. The 100-meter freestyle is free-for all - from the side it looks like watching a moving splash. Bernard and Sullivan seemed to be splashing together.

It was like that after the turn, Bernard and Sullivan, Sullivan and Bernard, and for the last 25 meters or so something remarkable happened. They seemed to be mirroring each others strokes, like they were unwitting entrants in the synchronized swimming. Everything was happening simultaneously_left arm up and in, right arm flailing over the top, left arm up and in - they swam that with one motion to the finish. Lezak was now third, and that's where he would finish, his first individual Olympic medal.

But the race was Bernard and Sullivan. At the finish, they lunged for the wall.

Bernard's hand got there first, .11 seconds ahead of Sullivan, about one-third the time it takes to blink an eye.

"I can't believe it," Bernard would say after it was over. "I know I was down after the relay but I didn't want to get beaten. I have been working so hard ..."

Bernard could barely keep his composure. Three days earlier, he was the loser. He had no idea what that kind of loss would do to him. He had no idea how long he would have to live with it, how he would deal with it. Now, he was Olympic champion.

"Today was not about the silver medal," Bernard said, "or the world record. Today was about touching the wall."