1968 Olympic sprinter John Carlos, sportswriter Dave Zirin visit Mason

John Carlos (left) and sportswriter Dave Zirin (right) sit in front of the iconic photo of Carlos and Tommie Smith making the Black Power salute during the 1968 Olympic Games. Carlos and Zirin visited George Mason to publicize their new book, The John Carlos Story: The Sports Moment That Changed the World (Josh Apple).

It is one of the most powerful and recognizable moments in the history of American sport, and it is replayed over and over. It is the image of two African American men holding their fists high in the air as they stand on the gold and bronze platforms, respectively, with the National Anthem of the United States playing in the background in front of the large crowd in Olympic Stadium in Mexico City.

The year was 1968, one of the most turbulent and troubled years in recent American history. It was a time of war, a time of rebellion, and, most of all, a time of outright racism.

John Carlos, winner of the bronze medal in the men’s 200-meter race, and Tommie Smith, his teammate and winner of the gold medal, entered the Olympic Games with one thing in mind: reach the platform in order to send a message.

And their message was sent, loud and clear, throughout the world.

Smith and Carlos were not merely putting their fists up to the sky; rather they were portraying the known symbol of the Black Power movement. However, Carlos claims he was not making a Black Power salute, but was rather making a human rights salute.

Carlos, along with renowned American sportswriter Dave Zirin, appeared at George Mason University Monday evening to show Zirin’s documentary movie, Never Just a Game: Politics and Power in American Sports, in the Johnson Center Cinema. The two recently completed working together on a documentary book, The John Carlos Story: The Sports Moment That Changed the World, and are now touring together.

The striking image of Carlos protruding his hand balled into a fist toward the sky is well known, but his story is not.

Carlos competed in the 1968 Olympics in Mexico City at the age of 23; yet he and his fellow runners strongly considered boycotting the games altogether.

“Our theory is that if we boycott the Olympic Games, we might bring attention to the plight of black people and people sympathetic toward the cause of black people,” Carlos said. “We don’t want to throw no bombs at nobody ever, we don’t want to beat up nobody; all we want to do is say step back as opposed to stepping forward.”

However, the idea of winning a medal, something he trained his entire life to achieve, was ultimately too great a reward to let slip away. Knowing that the United States was the premier nation in the world in track and field at the time, he pictured another American taking his spot in the race and his spot on the podium.

Carlos, of course, competed and made it to the podium, winning the bronze medal, giving him the ultimate platform to make his demonstration; a moment that not only changed his life, but a moment that forever changed the direction of sport in American culture.

He recalled a conversation he had one day with Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr after his Olympic demonstration. Carlos asked Dr. King why he was going back to Memphis, knowing that injury or death was a likely scenario.

“John, I have to go back to Memphis to stand for those that won’t stand for themselves, and John, I have to go back to Memphis to stand for those who can’t stand for themselves,” Dr. King answered.

This is the same reason why Carlos did what he did that day in Mexico City. This is the same reason why Carlos has done everything that he has done his entire life in his fight against injustice.

Carlos, born in Harlem, NY, described growing up in an impoverished community in which nearly all of his fellow African Americans were struggling for survival. In his early years, he began hanging out with a rough crowd, much to the dismay of his father. Although Carlos never turned to drugs, he was surrounded by heavy drug use, mainly cocaine and heroine.

One day he asked his comrades why they felt the need to “dope up” every day. He learned they used those drugs as a coping mechanism merely to face one’s family without shame, and even to look in the mirror without shame.

“How do you live with yourself when you can’t be the man you should be in your house,” Carlos said, “merely because they wouldn’t allow you to find a decent job, they wouldn’t allow you to go to a decent college, they wouldn’t allow you to live in a decent community, they wouldn’t allow you to do jack, not even, least of all, be the man in your family.”

Unlike the youngsters of contemporary society, who Carlos believes shoot drugs for a social experience, the youth of his Harlem community turned to drugs for survival and escapism.

This was when Carlos began to question the structure of society in America.

He was lucky enough to have parents that cared for him. As opposed to the majority of his neighbors, Carlos’ family could afford to eat three meals a day and ate dinner together every night. Most of his comrades went to sleep hungry.

“They got up, went to school, and then when you go to school, there were a lot of teachers that was not black or didn’t have any color in them,” he said. “They didn’t have an understanding that these kids were hungry every day that they came to school, they didn’t take into account that they had hunger pains when they were in school; all they felt like were these kids were disruptive kids, let’s kick them to the curb.”

Carlos’ family certainly did not have an abundance of food, but he recalls bringing his buddies over to eat regularly, especially the ones that hadn’t seen their parents for several days and were on the verge of starvation.

His house in Harlem was situated right between two of the most famous clubs in the country at the time: the Savoy Ballroom on one side and the Cotton Club on the other.

“I looked at the greatest entertainers in the world come in and see the white ones come in the front door and see the black ones go in the back door,” Carlos said. “What is Ella Fitzgerald doing going in the back door? What gives Fred Astaire the right to go in the front door? Why is Count Basie and Duke Ellington going in the back door?”

Carlos knew at an early age something wasn’t right, that something needed to be done to combat the pervasive racism and inequality throughout the nation.

By watching television, Carlos found his boyhood idol in Robin Hood, famous for taking from the rich to give to the poor.

“Boy, was he my hero, he was like the answer to all my questions,” Carlos said.

He used to go across the street to hustle tickets or to find various other schemes to make money. One day, however, he discovered that the freight trains near his house were loaded with cargo. He would gather two of his friends to collect boxes of goods and run back to his neighborhood.

“This ain’t for our pockets, this is to help somebody that can't help themselves,” he would tell his friends.

He did this every day his entire childhood. And it was never for his own pockets.

“We ain’t just a race of people, we’re the human race, we’re all in this together,” Carlos said.

Collecting boxes from freight trains and feeding his friends only gave him a small, neighborhood platform in which to enact change and fight prejudice. Running gave him the world.

Although he and Tommie Smith considered boycotting the 1968 Olympics, they realized that it could be used to make a difference well beyond the deprived streets of Harlem.

However, their actions did not come without consequences.

After the demonstration, Carlos and Smith were expelled from the ’68 Olympics and sent home immediately. Both were banned from professional racing for the rest of their lives. Worse, both received endless threats and public scrutiny.

The event took such a heavy toll on Carlos’ family that his wife took her life one year later and their kids were severely abused in school daily.

Yet, he has never regretted his decision for one moment.

“Don’t be in a position where you can make this world a better place and pass it up,” he said.

If Carlos had been on that podium, a position of power, and had not made that infamous gesture, now that he would have regretted every second of his life.

Carlos confronted Dave Zirin about putting together his story. Zirin’s column, Edge of Sports, appears on the Sports Illustrated website and he hosts the Edge of Sports Radio, which appears weekly on XM Satellite Radio. The two co-authored The John Carlos Story: The Sports Moment That Changed the World, which went on sale this year.

Although Carlos’ gesture may have essentially ended his life for forty years, he is back on top of the podium and once again making a difference.