Igor Ter-Ovanesyan was overwhelmed, simply because brutal fear of what could be passed through his tired mind.

His heart couldn’t bear the thought.

It was April 24, 1983, in Lawrence. Ter-Ovanesyan’s homeland, the Soviet Union, was caught up in a Cold War with the United States over decades-old political differences, and here, the Soviet track and field coach sat in a hotel in America’s heartland, pleading for peace and doing what he could to bring down the walls of tension between the two nations.

On that day, 19 Soviets gathered at the Holidome to say goodbye to Lawrence after a weeklong stay to compete in the Kansas Relays. Attending the ceremony were several political and athletic figures, including Ter-Ovanesyan’s dear friend, John Thomas, an American athlete who gained fame by becoming the first to ever clear the seven-foot bar in the high jump.

While speaking at the gathering, Ter-Ovanesyan wondered aloud about the ugly reality of the world he lived in. Would he and Thomas someday be squaring off against each other in a nuclear war battlefield? Could he do it? Could he kill his friend for the sake of the U.S.S.R.?

“I cannot just think of it,” he said at the time.

The words were like a dagger: Throughout the room, eyes started welling up with tears. The farewell ceremony subsequently was cut short.

Lasting impact

Every year, Kansas Relays meet director Tim Weaver searches for a snowflake – a unique and interesting way to bring fans out to see his adoptive baby, the annual three-day track and field extravaganza that starts Thursday at Memorial Stadium.

Anymore, it often means paying big dollars to bring in track’s biggest celebrities. This year’s crop, including Justin Gatlin and Maurice Greene, surely will do its part in getting fans to see the spectacle.

But no cameo can touch the impact that the 1983 Kansas Relays brought – not just for the athletic greatness that left 19,200 fans awestruck on the meet’s final day – but for the political message that the Soviet contingency brought with them.

Track and field athletes from the soviet union participate in a ceremony beneath the Campanile at Kansas University in April 1983. The Soviets visited Lawrence and competed in the '83 Kansas Relays as a way to promote peace during the Cold War.

Bob Timmons, KU’s track coach at the time, said he hoped that in some way, “the Kansas Relays can contribute to better understanding between our nations.”

And that was just it: there wasn’t much understanding between the United States and the U.S.S.R. in the latter part of the 20th century. The Cold War between the Soviet Union and the Western nations produced no full-scale battles, but the hostility alone – coupled with the increased danger of war capabilities through improved technology – was enough to give the world chills.

Sports were thrown into the fire, too, most notably in 1980 when president Jimmy Carter urged the United States to boycott the Olympic Games in Moscow, a decision still fiercely debated a quarter century years later. The Soviet Union returned the favor, refusing to attend the Los Angeles Games in 1984.

In between those two dark moments in sports history, though, came a minor one that brought about hope. There were many out there who thought athletics could be a way to bring people together. Among them were Bob Swan and Mark Scott of Athletes United for Peace, an organization instrumental in convincing a 19-person group of Soviets to travel to Lawrence for a tour of the heart of America in 1983. Many of the Soviets would compete in the Kansas Relays while they were here.

Years later, the memories – and the impact – still are amazing to many.

“Everybody came away from it with really good feelings about the Soviet Union and their athletes,” Timmons said. “It was a happy, exciting time.”

Domination

Even before the Soviets made the half-a-world journey to Kansas, the KU athletes knew plenty about what they were up against.

Most of the Soviets were well past college-aged, some even in their early 30s. They were the Soviet Union’s best, Olympic medalists, even world-record holders.

When the U.S.S.R. signed off on the trip, they stocked up the traveling party with the right representatives to make their country look like the best.

“To them, sports meant more than just competing,” said Jim Ryun, the former Kansas track great who attended the ’83 Relays. “It was another mean of spreading propaganda, spreading their lifestyle. You could see how important it was to them.”

But the athletes, as competitive as they were in Memorial Stadium, brought with them respect, generosity and peaceful messages away from the track.

The AUP organized visits to Haskell Junior College, Wal-Mart and Rim Rock Farm, among other places. They were given blue jeans and watches as gifts.

But in between the visits, the receptions, and the gifts of peace given to the U.S.S.R. contingency, the Soviets spent three days dominating the Kansas Relays.

It started with a 1-2 finish in the decathlon, continued with Alexander Krupsky heading a remarkable performance across the board in the pole vault, went on with a still-standing hammer throw record by Yuri Tamm, and punctuated with a 4:08.94 time in the women’s 1,500 meter run by Nedexhdra Raldugina. No one has come within 10 seconds of her meet record since.

In all, seven Relays records crumbled. On the final day, a crowd of 19,200 came to see what the fuss was all about – the third-largest Relays crowd ever to file into Memorial Stadium. The Russians gave them plenty to talk – and cheer – about before the day was done.

“They performed very, very well,” Timmons said, “and the crowd just loved them.”

One last hurrah

It wasn’t all fun and games. Despite the warm welcome the Soviets were given in Lawrence, and even though they responded just as generously, political differences still bled through elsewhere.

The State Department wouldn’t comment on the event, presumably because of a difference in opinion between the AUP and the U.S. government. Just days before the Soviets showed up, the U.S. Embassy in Beirut was bombed, killing dozens. Another Olympic boycott was upcoming, this time the Soviet government choosing not to participate in Los Angeles.

But for one week in the heartland, peace seemed so easy. If only everyone could have behaved and understood like the 19 Soviets and the Lawrence community did during the 1983 Kansas Relays.

Would the Cold War have lasted so long?

“I can’t say internationally how important it was,” Timmons said. “I can just say that by the time they left, I’m sure they had different feelings about us, and we certainly did about them.”

Before the weekend ended, before Ter-Ovanesyan spoke the harsh truth, causing a room full of tears, there was one last event organized. A relay with no medals to hand out, no warming up, no full speeds and certainly no chance of disqualification.

Leg one of the special 4X100 meter relay was a Soviet athlete. Leg two was an American. Leg three, a Soviet. Back to an American for the final straightaway.

The final time? Not important.

“It wasn’t competitive,” Timmons recalled. “It was symbolic.”

Symbolic, historical – and necessary. Just when the two powers needed some sign that they could brush off the fears – and tears – and work together.