THEIR time in the sun is short - a small colony of men and women of diverse backgrounds, drawn together in a common cause. On an average afternoon they might not attract a second glance from the passer-by in the street. But, for 16 momentous days, they are among the highest profiled people in the world, beloved of the masses, courted unashamedly, by the media.

Something in the region of 10,500 athletes are quartered in the Olympic village, a neat complex of buildings where, weather permitting, fitness can be smelled downwind at a range of a couple of hundred yards.

There, the accomplished break bread with the mere ambitious, the bluebloods coexist comfortably with those of lower station in the ultimate fulfilment of de Coubertin's dream.

Only a couple of blocks separate the apartments of Michelle Smith and Barry McDonald but, when the sun went down on day three of the Centennial Games, their worlds were light years apart.

Smith, grown to heroine status in just 48 eventful hours, now strides the world with the calm confidence of one who can look all others in the eye.

Two European Championship wins notwithstanding, her arrival in the Olympic city caused no great fuss. To an American sporting public which, traditionally, has little respect for those beyond, she was just another athlete in search of the rainbow's end.

Now, inflated more one suspects by the Janet Evans incident rather than the superb level of her performances in the 400 metres freestyle and individual medley events, she is, at last, commanding the attention of the American media.

Erudite and composed, she talked down those who had plotted to expand Tuesday's press conference into something more than an analysis of the final. For one with relatively little experience in dealing with exposure on that scale, it was, indeed, a skilled performance.

Back in the comparative quiet of the Olympic village, she received messages of appreciation from, among others, Bertie Ahern and Bob Geldof and the personal congratulations of McDonald.

Unlike Smith, there were no fanfares awaiting McDonald when he returned from competition in the gymnastics arena. Taking part in the compulsory section of the all-round championship, he had come to grief on the pommel horse and failed to make the cut for today's final.

With all eyes focussed on the Olympic pool, he went through his programme with just two supporters, his father, Shay and manager C J Johnson, monitoring his progress.

In their estimation, he had competed well in a performance which was flawed only by minor lapses of concentration but, in a discipline in which excellence is the norm, it wasn't quite good enough.

Yet his inclusion in the squad was just as significant as that of Smith. After 100 years, Ireland had at last been represented in one of the oldest of the Olympic disciplines.

McDonald, who hopes to graduate in business administration at the University of Illinois in September, confesses that he will not be back for the Games in Sydney in four year's time.

At 24, he is now at the outer limit of achievement in a sport in which the suppleness of youth runs out fast. But, in a career which has brought him some success at under-age level, he can return from Atlanta in the knowledge that his has been a significant pioneering role.

The benchmark has beef. laid down, the goal defined. And who is to deny that, in time, gymnastics, like swimming, will silence the cynics and at last, come in from the cold.