LONDON — The personality of swimmer Missy Franklin is so magnetic, gold medals stick. A world record fell hard Friday for the charm of her irresistible smile. After swimming the 200-meter backstroke faster than any woman in history, the bubbly Colorado teenager climbed out of the pool and into the spotlight as the biggest American heroine of the Summer Olympics.
“I can’t believe what just happened,” gushed Franklin, beaming after breaking a record that had stood for three years with a time of 2 minutes, 4.06 seconds. “I knew I was giving it everything I had because I couldn’t feel my arms or legs and I was just trying to get my hand to the wall as fast as I could.”
A word of advice: Don’t be blinded by the megawattage of Franklin’s smile. It’s a beautiful disguise. Behind the 24-karat mask, she dreams the impossible with an intensity that can cause a world record to sink in the wake of Missy the Missile.
Before Franklin hopped in the water and placed her feet for the start of her favorite event, those who know her best already knew: No swimmer in the other seven lanes stood a chance. The world record was in way over its head. In the blink of an eye required to adjust her goggles, a teenager susceptible to bouts of Bieber fever turned into a shark in the water.
“When she came out to the pool deck, it wasn’t just about winning the back. It was about tearing it up. That’s Missy the Missile,” said Dick Franklin, who has watched his daughter dominate competition from the Heritage Greens neighborhood in Centennial to Regis Jesuit High School to the million-gallon Olympic pool.
Any concern that seven events in eight days, the most ambitious program ever attempted by an American female swimmer, would be too taxing physically and exhausting mentally for a 17-year-old girl evaporated in the fire of Franklin’s competitive spirit.
Contrary to her no-worries reputation, she was ticked about missing a bronze medal by a lousy one-hundredth of a second in the 200 freestyle earlier in the week. Then, when she finished fifth in the 100 free on Thursday, her trademark smile was 100 percent gritting teeth, hungry for a shot at redemption.
“Oh, I know that really bothered her. Sure, she gets up smiling for everybody to see. But I could tell she was not happy,” Dick Franklin said. “They say everything happens for a reason. I think not getting a medal in the 100 free gave her that eye of the tiger. I know what she was thinking going into this backstroke: ‘Last night, I came up empty. Tonight, I’m gonna rock the house.’ “
The Aquatics Centre in Olympic Park? This is her house. Franklin has already struck gold three times, with another chance in the medley relay Saturday to put an exclamation point on her first Olympic experience.
As every swim mom knows, the most frequently asked question at any youth meet is: Have you seen my goggles? No. 2 on the list of popular inquiries, however, is a chorus heard as swimmers finish a race, then gasp for barely enough air to wheeze: What was my time?
Well, here’s a secret of how Franklin arrived at 2:04.06 on the huge, digital Olympic scoreboard clock, as LeBron James cheered in the stands and Michael Phelps bestowed her with the responsibility of being the next face of American swimming.
“Missy never asked for her time,” said D.A. Franklin, the mother who raised an Olympic phenom. “When she started swimming, Missy didn’t care about anything except touching the wall first. She’s so competitive. At age 6, all she wanted to do is win. I’d try to give her a time as a way to improve, and she would tell me: “I don’t care, Mom. I won. So the time doesn’t matter.’ “
Nobody in the world can beat Colorado’s newest superstar to the wall. So now it’s about breaking down walls. The legacy of Phelps, who won his 17th career gold medal with an amazing comeback in the 100 free Friday, is a gift to Franklin. “What he has done is incredible,” Franklin said. “It’s helped people rethink the impossible.”
The camera catches her lip-syncing to “Call Me Maybe” or wiping away a tear of joy while singing “The Star-Spangled Banner” on the Olympic medal podium. Her smile is magic. Hope floats, lifting a state that has waded through too many dark days and ugly headlines this summer.
What turns on the real power of Missy the Missile, however, is a switch she can flip faster than Clark Kent goes through a phone booth. It’s impossible to laugh and swim at the same time, although Franklin tries. “Maybe 20 seconds before a race, she really gets zoned in,” U.S. swimmer Elizabeth Beisel said.
Twenty seconds is all it takes to weave an impossible dream into gold.
Mark Kiszla: 303-954-1053, mkiszla@denverpost.com or twitter.com/markkiszla
