Pyrros Dimas is a national hero in a nation that could use one about now. Two of Greece's best athletes skipped drug tests and were kicked out of the Games the day before the Opening Ceremony. One, the sprinter Kostantinos Kenteris, was supposed to light the Olympic flame.

A third Greek jock, weightlifter Leonidis Sampanis, won a bronze medal but tested high for testosterone. He might lose his medal. The Greeks have the largest delegation of athletes in the Games. Their medal count is anemic. The Parthenon has more columns. On one side.

Yet the fact that Dimas won the bronze medal in the men's 187-pound weightlifting competition Saturday night was icing on the Greek cake. Dimas was a god before that, for the three golds he won in the three previous Olympics, and for his unwavering devotion to his country. He even shouted "Yia tin Ellada" ("For Greece") as he made his final, gold-clinching lift at the Barcelona Games in '92.

Pyrros Dimas of Greece looks to the crowd of his countrymen while lifting 375 lbs (170 kg) in the snatch during the Men's 187 lb (85 kg) event. (AP photo)

They were ready for him Saturday, in the Nikaia Olympic Weightlifting Hall. Most of the venues are half-full at best. This one was packed with 5,100 souls an hour ahead of time. It couldn't have been more Greek if they handed out Sophocles bobbleheads at the gate.

"Pyr-ros!" they chanted when he was introduced. "Pyr-ros!" they chanted each time he prepared to lift. The Greeks made the old "Reg-gie" chant at Yankee Stadium sound like a whisper at the library.

The only time they were completely silent was when Dimas had his hands on the bar.

Weightlifting is a scandal waiting to break. Its practitioners could be the unofficial pharmacists of the Olympic Games. Weightlifting might be primed for getting the Olympic boot. That didn't matter to the Greeks Saturday night. When Dimas' name was announced as the bronze medalist, they erupted for 10 minutes.

They sung, they chanted, they clapped, they did everything but ring in the New Year with Dick Clark. As Dimas stood on the medal stand, his face morphed from smiling to proud to tear-filled to almost melancholy. After his last lift, a miss on the clean and jerk at 207.5 kilograms (454 pounds, give or take), Dimas removed his shoes and placed them next to the weightlifting mat, a sign of retirement.

During the party, maybe he was rethinking that. "They showed their love and affection for me, and I thank them dearly for that," Dimas said afterward.

For 10 long minutes, the Greeks knew two words: Pyr-ros and Hel-las. Silver medalist Andrei Rybakou of Belarus never was acknowledged. The winner, George Asanidze of Georgia, didn't know when to climb his pedestal. "Pyr-ros, Hel-las" drowned out the announcement of his name.

And that was before the medal ceremony ended.

The Greeks take their weightlifting seriously.

Dimas tapped his heart with his right hand. He brought his three children to the medal stand. A Greek folk song blasted on the public address. Flags waved from the second deck. Dimas shook hands with half of Athens. "Never on Sunday" roared from the PA. (You hear that song here as much as we hear soft-drink jingles during Reds games.)

Dimas blew kisses, hugged dignitaries. Still, they wouldn't leave. "People showed today they believe in us," Dimas said. In ... us? As Dimas soaked in the adulation, the big TV screen on the wall adjacent to the podium showed Asanidze in the lifters' preparation area, talking on a cell phone. This was a party of one.

The Greeks don't need a reason to party. They seem to do it out of habit. Saturday, though, was special. Pyrros Dimas made sure of that.

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E-mail pdaugherty@enquirer.com