How many people ever hear the anthem from an Olympic medal stand? What's the percentage of us who own gold medals? We can buy most anything now. We're the richest nation in the world, in the richest time in our history. Hearing the anthem from the medal stand, though, there are no riches equal to that.

"Peaceful" was how Volpenhein described the moment.

Bryan Volpenhein is at right, next to the coxswain of Team USA's men's eight. (AP photo)

Ten years ago, he was at Kings High, playing volleyball. He wouldn't begin rowing until his freshman year at Ohio State. Now, he was part of the U.S. team that won gold in the men's eight, the most prestigious event in rowing. The Americans had come to Athens with medal possibilities. They left with a world record in the heats and the gold.

They retooled a team that left Sydney four years ago bitter and discouraged at its fifth-place finish. They put it together just this year. Volpenhein was recruited off the men's four team. He'd been a member of the men's eight in Sydney and wanted to rinse the bitterness from his memory. And so he had.

A thousand meters into the 2,000-meter race, he knew they'd win. The United States blew out to an early lead in the first 500 meters and to everyone's amazement, increased it after 1,000. You row long enough, you have a sense not only of your own abilities but also those of your teammates.

At 1,000 meters, they were moving the 58-foot, 200-pound boat through the water like wet soap across glass.

"We had that big lead and I could sense we really hadn't given too much," Volpenhein said. "Sometimes when you get a huge lead, your body tells you you've gone out way over pace. We hadn't done that. That was very exciting."

He looked to his right: the Canadians and the Australians.

"Where I expected most of the speed to come from," he said.

They weren't close. Everything was working. This particular group of rowers had come together only this year. Chemistry usually takes time. They'd clicked immediately. They felt attached to the boat at the water: shell, oars and men. Volpenhein looked around and got excited.

"I look around a lot. Almost to where it's a problem," he said. "It gives me a sense of our speed relative to other people, how much more or less I have to give. Being up that much, that early, you're able to breathe, relax, get into a rhythm."

If Volpenhein were becoming too relaxed, teammate Beau Hoopman snapped him out of it at 1,250 meters. "Dutch!" he yelled. They were gaining.

Volpenhein kicked it in gear again. He's a big guy, 6 feet 3, 215 pounds, broad across the top. He got into rowing after he saw a poster plastered on a wall at OSU. It was a club sport. A high school friend of his, Mike Barrett, had rowed for the Cincinnati Juniors. "A new challenge," Volpenhein figured.

It's funny sometimes, where life leads us.

Now, Volpenhein was pulling the last 500 meters as if it were the last thing he'd ever do. He felt his team would win, and it did.

He lifted the oars - red on top, blue on the bottom, white at the tips - leaned back and roared. Later, a member of the silver-winning women's eight team, Kate Johnson, would sum up everyone's feelings about the men, with an unintended vulgarity during a press conference: "We're really (expletive) proud of you guys," she said.

For Volpenhein, it seemed more of a quiet pleasure, 10 years of work rewarded with a song and a medal. He turned 28 five days ago. "This is just a game we're lucky to be able to do," he said.

Will he come back in 2008?

"Probably. I'll just see where life takes me," Volpenhein said.

For one day in Greece, it took him to the top. The ride was smooth.

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E-mail pdaugherty@enquirer.com