The stands in the stadium on the outskirts of Paris were packed with enthusiastic fans, their excitement building to a fever pitch. Among them, a strapping 22-year-old American prepared to make history in the Olympic Stadium in Colombes, demonstrating remarkable focus and determination.

Eugene Oberst, who had previously played football under the legendary Knute Rockne at Notre Dame, was now chasing Olympic glory. Despite the presence of nearly 40,000 spectators, the crowds did not faze him. “Crowds never affect me when I am in competition, so I did not pay any attention to them,” Oberst later wrote in the journal he kept during the 1924 Olympics.

Oberst got into his zone, picking up his javelin with confidence. “The throwing having begun, I put on a borrowed pair of spike shoes, the first I ever wore,” he noted. Feeling great, he heaved the spear farther than any other had gone up to that point in the meet.

However, the weather took a turn. The skies darkened, and rain began to fall, causing the ground to soften and become slippery just as the finals were getting underway. The spikes on his borrowed shoes were no match for the mud, causing his feet to slip on his last two throws, which were not successful.

Yet, Oberst's initial throw of 58.35 meters was enough to secure him the bronze medal, making him the first American to medal in the javelin throw.

Oberst’s recollections from those momentous games were recorded in a small, black leather-bound notebook, which his son, Robert Oberst, later used to write a biography of his father titled “Gene ‘Kentuck’ Oberst: Olympian, All-American, Notre Dame Football Champion.”

Oberst's journal chronicles the often painful path he took to win an Olympic medal, despite being born with deformed feet that required specially made shoes and metal braces throughout his childhood and into college. After the competition, Oberst returned the borrowed spikes to his teammate Harry Frieda.

Growing up, Robert Oberst knew his father had competed in the Olympics, and whenever the games were on television, he would retrieve and polish his father’s bronze medal. “That became my thing,” he said, although as children, they were not particularly interested in their father’s athletic achievements.

Oberst’s journey to becoming an Olympian was somewhat accidental. “The story goes that my dad was walking by the track, saw a javelin lying there, and threw it so far that Rockne immediately recruited him for the track-and-field team too,” Robert Oberst recounted.

After his father's death in 1991 at the age of 89, Robert began piecing together the story of how his father, the youngest of 11 children from Owensboro, Kentucky, became one of America’s most celebrated athletes after the 1924 Paris Olympics.

Oberst’s on-field heroics in Paris were just a part of the 60-page journal he wrote. It was clear the Olympics held significant importance in his life, as he noted on the opening page, “I want to read this book in 1974.”

The journal’s early entries describe the eight-day trans-Atlantic trip aboard the S.S. America from Hoboken, New Jersey, to France. Oberst detailed the inventive ways athletes continued their training on the ship. On June 16, 1924, he wrote about the rousing sendoff they received as they departed from the pier, with boat whistles and band music filling the air.

Oberst’s cabin, shared with his teammates, was described as “beautiful and comfortable,” with four beds arranged opposite two port holes. The next morning, the track and field athletes assembled in the third-class lounge to meet their coaches and receive their uniforms and public outfits.

“We have four beds, two below & two above in a straight line opposite the two port holes,” he noted. Despite some ill-fitting gear, they made do. The team continued their training by tossing medicine balls and running laps on the upper decks. They even figured out a way to practice their javelin-throwing by fixing a string to the end of a javelin and throwing it overboard, reeling it back in like a whaler’s harpoon.

The journey included fine meals, movies, sing-alongs, and live skits. As a devout Catholic, Oberst found the ocean mass particularly inspiring. However, rough seas five days into the trip left many athletes, including Oberst, battling seasickness.

Upon arriving in France, Oberst was eager to disembark. However, his first impressions of Cherbourg and Paris were less than favorable. He described Cherbourg as worn out, with small boys begging for pennies, and Paris initially appeared very old. Over time, though, he grew to appreciate the city, especially its stunning churches and the palace at Versailles.

Oberst’s time in Paris included sightseeing, shopping, and encounters with Hollywood stars like Douglas Fairbanks and Mary Pickford, who were in town for the games. “They are a very pleasant couple, and ‘tis no wonder they are so well liked,” he wrote.

When it came time to compete on July 6, 1924, Oberst was focused and ready. Despite the challenging weather conditions, he was satisfied with his performance, surprising even himself by securing a place in the top three. “I entered the meet in a carefree way intending to throw the best I could,” he wrote.

The day after his medal-winning performance, Oberst watched British runner Harold Abrahams win the 100-meter dash, an event later immortalized in the film “Chariots of Fire.”

On July 28, 1924, Oberst was back on the S.S. America, returning to New York City for a ticker tape parade up Broadway. He received a different kind of medal this time, a gold one, presented by Mayor John Hylan.

“Landed at New York on August 6th,” he wrote. “Marched up Broadway to City Hall & was presented a fine gold medal by Mayor Hylan.”