They have this system for interviewing athletes at the Olympics that is as archaic as it is chaotic. The place is called the mixed zone and it makes the mosh pit at a Metallica concert look as tame as two seats on the aisle at the Seattle Opera. Neumo's is a church by comparison.

After every event, athletes walk through a maze that is cordoned off by the equivalent of the velvet ropes you see at exclusive New York nightclubs. If they want, the athletes can stop and visit with reporters, usually the ones they know, or the ones who at least speak their language. (I've often been caught in back of a guy I thought was English speaking, only to listen to him start off in a volley of Italian.)

But when the athlete stops, reporters climb all over each other craning their tapes recorders, their necks, their ears, to get a morsel of a quote to throw into their stories.

Sometimes -- rarely -- this system works perfectly. At the Water Cube the other day, while most of the U.S. reporters still were interviewing American women from a previous race, a couple of English-speaking swimmers who had just lost to Michael Phelps in the 200 freestyle final, South Africa's Jean Basson and Great Britain's Robbie Renwick, not only stopped, but were excited to talk about their small part in creating Olympic history.

Phelps had just tied the Olympic record by winning his ninth overall gold medal.

Only a few Canadian and British writers were there with me, while the Americans were working in another part of the mixed zone's switchbacks. The swimmers were great and their cooperation was deeply appreciated.

Most often, however, the system doesn't work. Most often it's downright humiliating. Take the women's gymnastics team final on Wednesday. The U.S. had just lost a heartbreaker to the Chinese after Alicia Sacramone had fallen in both the balance beam and floor excercise. In a room barely the size of walk-in closet, one set of reporters (American) was mashed together, trying to get a word from the devastated Sacramone. We were so pushed together, none of us could have written a word even if we heard one.

In another corner of the closet/mixed zone, the excited Chinese press (many of them cheered unashamedly when China won the gold) pushed forward as one to get immediate responses from China's tiny-dancer gymnasts. There was almost no separation from the two groups and at one point I wondered what it would take for tempers to flare and whether I would get caught in the crush.

Fortunately, with deadlines and such, the crowd thinned. The Chinese went into a news conference where one reporter asked one of the gymnasts what she did to celebrate her 16th birthday. (It was a trick question, because there are very real suspicions that some of the gymnasts aren't 16, the mininum age to compete in gymnastics at the Olympics.)

Sacramone, I must say, handled herself beautifully. She took the blame, offered no excuses and was remarkably composed. A certain group of baseball players in Seattle could learn a little something from her.

The best way to learn to survive the mixed zone is to watch old tapes of Wes Unseld battling Paul Silas for rebound position. Quickly find a spot close to the ropes, spread your arms, give yourself a solid base with your feet and don't budge. (Back in the day, the Germans were great at this. Before smoking bans, they would spread out their arms, holding a cigarette and creating even more space with their smoke. (Paul Silas probably would have tried that if he had been given the option.)

That works, unless Sacramone decides to stop either 10 feet before she gets to you, or 10 feet after she passes you. Then you're toast and you have to hope the gaggle next to you tires and leaves a space for you to slip in.

Also, I noticed on Tuesday night, the United States men's team has found a way through the mixed zone. LeBron James led a group of players, who hurdled the ropes and sprinted into the locker room, which is closed from the media.

We may not see better hurdling until next week when Liu Xiang, Dayron Robles and Terrence Trammell meet in the 110-meter finals.