The Olympic Games truly has everything -
high-octane action,
incredible bravery,
occasional comedy...
and love.
This is the story of Olga Fikotova and Hal Connolly.
The year was 1956,
and the Olympic Games had arrived in Melbourne.
The Cold War between the Soviet Bloc countries and the West
was gathering pace,
and it was against this chilly political backdrop
that an unlikely love would blossom.
Olga Fikotova was a trainee doctor from Prague,
in what was then the Czech Socialist Republic,
an ally of the USSR
and firmly behind the Iron Curtain.
During her studies, she had taken up athletics
and quickly developed a love for throwing the discus.
Her coaches quickly spotted
that she had talent and strength
and all that was missing was that all-important rhythm.
The solution to this rhythm issue was simple -
practise to the beautiful tones of the Blue Danube.
Olga's trick worked,
and in 1955 she was showing such promise
that Russian discus legend Nina Romaschkova,
the reigning Olympic champion and Olympic record holder,
decided she would join her coaching team
to take her to the next level.
It was a decision she would come to regret.
Both women qualified for the Games,
and when it came to the business end
of the discus competition,
it was a case of master versus the apprentice.
Romaschkova demonstrated the strength and skill
that had won her gold in Helsinki,
breaking her own record with a 52-metre throw.
It's a beauty. Over 170 feet. It's a new Olympic record.
Olga's first four throws were good but not good enough
and, as she took to the circle for the fifth and final time,
she was in second place.
She had, however, been paying attention to the master.
Olga Fikotova, hazel-eyed student from Czechoslovakia,
spins the discus 176 feet 1½ inches,
smashes the minutes-old record of Nina
and becomes the first athletic gold medallist at Melbourne.
Gold for Olga. It was a fairy tale.
But what sort of fairy tale doesn't have a Prince Charming?
Olga was about to meet hers.
Connolly was every inch the American poster boy.
He'd overcome disability to become the best hammer thrower
in the world, all while being a humble history teacher
in the Californian public school system.
His achievements came despite the notable disadvantage of his
left arm being four inches shorter than his right,
due to problems suffered during birth,
making it all the more impressive.
Heading into his final throw, Connolly had work to do
but, just like his star-crossed lover,
he was saving his best until last.
Connolly of America winds up.
His legs thrust, his body straightens,
his arms whip up and the 16lb hammer whistles away
for 207 feet 3½ inches.
Yet another Olympic record.
Yet another American on the victors' dais.
But that's enough about hammers.
Let's get back to the love.
The pair explored Melbourne together
and, despite only being able to talk in broken English
and German, they quickly fell in love.
Olympic Games are short-lived affairs, and it seemed that
theirs would be too.
The Games were over and it was time to return home.
But this was the real deal.
They soon made plans to marry.
For Olga, this wasn't straightforward.
Her government opposed the marriage
and they even suggested
she wouldn't be allowed to represent her country again.
Much to the delight of just about everyone,
the wedding went ahead
and the pair set up home back in America.
Sadly, it turned out the Czech government wasn't bluffing.
They followed through with their threat.
Olga would never represent her home country again.
There was, however, the traditional happy ending.
The Americans loved Olga
and welcomed her as one of their own.
She went on to represent the USA in the next four Games and
in 1972, she was elected by her team-mates to carry the flag
at the opening ceremony, the highest honour there is.
It was the perfect ending to the perfect love story,
all courtesy of the Olympic Games.