Olympics Chairman Sebastian Coe Seeks Victory Lap AS Baron Coe, he is an appointed member of the House of Lords, with an ermine-trimmed ceremonial robe. It is a far cry from the day nearly 30 years ago in Los Angeles when as plain Sebastian Coe he did something nobody else has ever achieved, winning gold in the 1500 meters at two successive Olympics and breaking 11 world records. But facing track challenges, he says, was nowhere near as daunting as the task he faces now as chairman of the organizing committee for the Olympic Games, opening next Friday. There is scant time for formalities now as he dashes around the 500-acre Olympic Park in East London, track-trim at 55 in his chinos, tending to last-minute glitches, spreading the word that all will be right on the day. While eager not to seem complacent - "Don't get me wrong, I'm not sitting in a corner of the room, with a cigar and stroking a cat" - and careful to hedge his optimism with an acknowledgment that there is still plenty of room for things to go awry, he oozes the resolve that once faced down competitors on the track, saying he has no regrets about taking on the challenge of the Games. "I don't wake up each morning making slide rule judgments about whether it is the right thing to do," he said in an interview in the Olympic Park. In any case, it has been a personal calling, just as much as those heady days of Olympic competition. Of course it's the right thing to do. There is no way I could have sat this dance out," he said. Hosting the Olympics has been Britain's biggest endeavor since mobilizing for World War II: a $15 billion bill for building stadiums and other facilities; upgrading transportation links to the stretch of former marshland and industrial poverty in Stratford, the site for the Olympic Park; and assembling a work force of about 200,000 people who are now on the Olympic rolls. More than 1,500 British companies have been involved, and officials say that three-quarters of the total outlay has been spent on "regeneration," meaning the permanent transformation of formerly run-down areas like Stratford, renowned for centuries as one of London's most blighted districts. The lightning rod for much of this is Mr. Coe. Make a success of the Games, his friends and associates said, and a place in Britain's sporting pantheon will be secure. But if he fails, his legacy may be permanently scarred among Britain's 60 million people, who are waiting to see if the Games will provide a much-needed lift in the nation's morale or a chapter of management blunders that will stand as a national embarrassment. Will they be the "siege Games," remembered for security overkill at the 34 sporting venues? Or the "damp squib Games," with England's summer of record-breaking rains persisting, and hundreds of thousands of as-yet-unsold tickets available to latecomers? Or will they be the "gridlock Games," a traffic-clogged debacle that sees spectators - and even athletes - missing their events? With less than a week to go, portents are finely balanced. Ticket sales are picking up, and the weather forecast improving. The stadiums are ready. Athletes from 200 competing nations and territories are filling up the Olympic Village. The Olympic Park is abuzz with officials, competitors and journalists learning to navigate the cheerless - but, officials hope, terrorist-proof - maze that security precautions have made of the park. MR. COE returned to sports administration from a frustrated foray into politics, spending five years as a Conservative member of Parliament in the 1990s, and serving as the top aide to one of the party's successive leaders after the Conservatives lost power. The experience left him with a skepticism about politicians that has been a shield as he navigates the implosion of the organizing committee's half-billion-dollar contract with the British-based security company G4S.