In all the coverage of President Jimmy Carter’s death at age 100, there has been little attention to his decision to have the United States boycott the 1980 Summer Olympics in Moscow to protest the Soviet Union’s invasion of Afghanistan. The Washington Post, USA Today and Associated Press published stories, but by and large, the biggest disappointment in my life and the lives of hundreds of my fellow Olympians has been reduced to a footnote.
I guess that shouldn’t surprise me. Virtually everyone I meet who learns that I was a 1980 Olympian will ask how my team did, either not remembering or never knowing that I — along with over 460 other U.S. athletes — never got the chance to compete. Instead, we stayed home that summer, as did thousands of athletes from other countries that followed Carter’s lead.
To be clear, while disappointed, I’ve never let the disappointment turn to bitterness. But Carter’s death definitely aroused many memories and a mix of emotions from that time 45 years ago.
As I recall, I heard about the Soviet attack on a radio newscast in late December of 1979. I was driving with my boyfriend — now husband — in my little Honda station wagon from Los Angeles, where I spent the holidays with my family, to Colorado Springs, where he was a sportswriter and I was co-captain of the U.S. volleyball team in full-time residence at the newly opened Olympic Training Center.
The news of the Soviet incursion meant little to either of us. That would soon dramatically change.
My teammates and I had left schools, jobs, families and friends in the winter of 1978 to move to Colorado to prepare for the ’80 Olympics at a former Air Force base that the U.S. Olympic Committee (USOC) had converted into a rudimentary training site. The commitment to year-round training paid dividends quickly: Our volleyball team rose from No. 12 in the world to No. 5 after just eight months together.
In April 1979, a little more than a year after the move, we became the first U.S. women’s volleyball team to qualify for an Olympics and, after defeating the Soviets in a series of matches later that year, we were considered one of the top three teams in the world and a favorite to medal in Moscow.
Then came the Soviet invasion of Afghanistan, and a war that was of little consequence to me suddenly became an all-consuming issue. In January, my teammates and I gathered in our small lounge at the training center and watched as President Carter announced that the United States would lead an international boycott of the Olympics if the Soviets didn’t withdraw from Afghanistan by mid-February. We were dumbfounded on the one hand, yet somewhat dismissive on the other. I mean, really? He couldn’t possibly be serious.
Oh yes, he could. What seemed preposterous to us resonated with our fellow Americans. Significant majorities in the House and Senate soon supported the president, as did some 63 percent of the public, according to a Gallup Poll. And yet my teammates and I, as well as Olympians in other sports, held out hope that somehow the president would change his mind or the Soviets would withdraw. The U.S. hockey team’s “miracle on ice” in Lake Placid that February helped fuel that hope.
My teammate Laurel Brassey Iverson and I were among a small group of Olympic team captains and representatives invited to the White House in March to hear from President Carter and “discuss” the matter with Secretary of Defense Harold Brown, Deputy Secretary of State Warren Christopher and White House Counsel Lloyd Cutler. There really was no discussion. Instead, we were told that it was incumbent on our country to forcefully show the Soviets that they could not invade another nation without severe consequences — in this case, a massive grain embargo, trade restrictions and, yes, an Olympic boycott. The rise of Hitler after the world came to Berlin for the 1936 Olympics was offered as a warning of what could happen if the 1980 Games were allowed to proceed unincumbered. Regardless of what other countries decided, President Carter told us: “Ours will not go. . . . The decision has been made.”
Since January, my teammates and I had continued to train, even in the face of increasing doubts about our opportunity to compete in Moscow. In April, we began a series of matches against the East Germans. It was after a match on April 12 that we learned the USOC had voted by a 2-to-1 margin to support President Carter’s call to boycott — and our dreams were dashed.
Our coach, Arie Selinger, asked all of us to continue training over the next four years to compete in the 1984 Olympics in Los Angeles. The invitation was tempting, especially with the Games at home. But for me, with a monthly stipend of just $80 and a desire to finish my education, it was time to move on.
In the summer of ’84, it was a genuine delight to cheer on seven former teammates who joined with five other amazingly talented women to win the silver medal in Los Angeles.
After attending El Camino Junior College and the University of Southern California before the move to Colorado Springs, I finished up my bachelor’s degree at Arizona State University while serving as an assistant coach, then spent six years as head coach of the Sun Devils. I was an assistant with the U.S. team at the 1988 Olympics in Seoul — a wonderful experience, but it just wasn’t the same as playing. I left ASU to assist for two more years with the U.S. team, then spent an incredibly rewarding 24 years as the head coach at Notre Dame.
My Olympic teammates and I have stayed close friends, with most of us remaining actively involved in volleyball and contributing to the Olympic movement in various ways.
The 1980 U.S. Olympic team members were guests of President Carter that summer. We donned our parade uniforms (western wear complete with cowboy hats and boots), attended a Kennedy Center gala featuring Irene Cara, Patti LaBelle, Andy Gibb and others, and received the Congressional Gold Medal, our nation’s highest civilian honor. There is a photo in my home of me shaking hands with President Carter. I have a smile on my face, but I have to admit to feeling some anger toward him for a few years.
But, as they say, time heals all wounds. I have often spoken about the boycott to various groups over the years and how I’ve come to accept that it’s the journey in life, more than reaching the dream destination, that matters most.
As for the former president, I have nothing but respect for his incredible service to our nation and the world after he left the Oval Office. Inspired by his faith, he was a shining example of God’s call to care for the poor and marginalized, to be peacemakers, to be stewards of creation.
While I never met the president again after our brief handshake in the Rose Garden, I did attend the 1992 ceremony when he and his wife, Rosalynn, were deservedly honored with the Notre Dame Award for their dedication to serving the most vulnerable among us. I also was among the 8,000 attendees who enjoyed his heartfelt and humorous tribute to Father Theodore Hesburgh at the 2015 memorial for Notre Dame’s legendary president.
So, yes, my emotions and memories are mixed when it comes to Jimmy Carter’s legacy. For me, that’s to disagree with his Olympic decision while still honoring a life so very well-lived.
Debbie Landreth Brown served as Notre Dame’s head volleyball coach from 1991 to 2014. As a player, she was inducted into the USA Volleyball Hall of Fame in 1995, and in 2017 she was inducted into the American Volleyball Coaches Hall of Fame.