This book is being published one year from the time

when I spent the most trying and most dramatic mo-

ments of my life in a village housing thousands of athletes

from all over the world. When a man writes a book about

himself he struggles to remember his entire life. For me

there was no struggle in remembering above all what

happened on September 5, 1972 in the Olympic Village

in Munich, West Germany. This is why my book begins

with that scene. This is why I have not begun it the usual

way---where I was born and how I grew up.

But perhaps this is not totally true, because, in a

strange way, where I was born and how I grew up--a

Jewish boy in Brooklyn--became inextricably interwoven

with my emotions on that day in the Village. How could

it have been otherwise? After all, I was in Germany and

while Hitler was gone he was part of my youthful life and

once again Jews had been killed.