Once Upon a Time in the Vest

Thursday, January 31, 2019

V9 N. 5 Ted Corbitt and Jackie Robinson shared birthdays on this date January 31 and a lot more

Thanks to Gary Corbitt for this incredible piece of history

3:52 AM (4 hours ago)

Happy 100th Birthday!
Theodore “Ted” Corbitt & Jack Roosevelt “Jackie” Robinson
Ted & Jackie: Separated at Birth

Both gentlemen share these things in common:
Born January 31, 1919
Birthplace less than 300 miles apart; Ted- South Carolina, Jackie – Georgia
They were named after Theodore Roosevelt who died January 3, 1919.
Grandson of slaves
Faced segregation issues in athletics
Served in World War 11
Were married in 1946                      
Ted moved to Brooklyn, NY in 1946 and Jackie in 1947.
Registered Republicans
Spouses were nurses
Both are buried 200 yards apart in Cypress Hills Cemetery, Brooklyn, NY
Ted transitioned in 2007 and Jackie in 1972.
Ted & Jackie never met

Dear George:
I never met Ted Corbitt, but I heard about him very shortly after I started running distance races, chiefly through the Long Distance Log.  In all those years and since I never heard anything except admiration for the man.
Jackie Robinson got a lot more publicity than Ted, but like him, one never heard anything negative.
The world of sport is greater because they participated.
Actually, the world is better because they were in it.
Take care,

Wednesday, January 30, 2019

V 9 N. 4 Fred Thompson Longtime Atoms Coach R.I.P.

This article provided by Gary Corbitt  from the New York Times by Robert D. McFadden

Fred Thompson (1933 – 2019)
A Disciple of Mr. Joseph Yancey and the New York Pioneer Club (NYPC)

Fred Thompson, Who Championed Women in Track, Dies at 85
  • Jan. 24, 2019

Fred Thompson, who founded a Brooklyn track club for girls and young women in 1963 and coached national and Olympic medalists as he championed the cause of female track-and-field athletes for a half-century, died on Tuesday at his home in Brooklyn. He was 85.
Lorna Forde, a former track star for Mr. Thompson, said the cause was complications of Alzheimer’s disease.
A lawyer and former New York State assistant attorney general, Mr. Thompson founded the Atoms Track Club of Brooklyn in a Bedford-Stuyvesant community center, mostly out of frustration with New York City public schools that, for budgetary and other reasons, limited the participation of girls, but not necessarily of boys, in physical education and high school sports.
Mr. Thompson was also the founding organizer of the annual Colgate Women’s Games, the nation’s largest amateur track series for women. Since 1974, the games, open to girls and women from elementary school through college (and with a competitive division for women over 30), have attracted thousands of participants, mostly from East Coast states, to various venues from Boston to Virginia.
A former track star at Boys High School in Brooklyn and the City College of New York, Mr. Thompson inspired remarkable loyalty in his Atoms, which often had 40 to 50 members. Most were runners, some as young as 9, but most were teenagers who regarded him as a counselor, friend and father figure. He paid nearly all the expenses of the club, which was independent of schools or sponsors.
Early on, the Atoms practiced in community center hallways or in locked schoolyards (by scaling fences at twilight). But he eventually found a home for the club at Pratt Institute in Brooklyn.
His coaching combined sophisticated training techniques with one-on-one skull sessions. And beyond coaching, he demanded good grades and personal responsibility from his athletes.
 “The Atoms doesn’t really stand for track,” he told The New York Times in 1978. “The Atoms stands for excellence in education, trying to better yourself in this society, and one way to do that is to go to college and get that piece of paper.”
For many Atoms, the club was a refuge from broken homes and lives of poverty, as well as a path to education and upward mobility. In time, despite financial and logistical obstacles and a lack of the public support that flows readily to football, basketball and baseball, the club became a symbol of inner-city success as its runners won regional, national and finally Olympic recognition.
Its stars included Cheryl Toussaint-Eason, a silver medalist at the 1972 Munich Olympics in the 1,600-meter relay and a gold medalist at the Pan American Games; Diane Dixon, who won Olympic gold in Los Angeles in 1984 in the 400-meter relay and was an 11-time national indoor champion; and Grace Jackson-Small, the silver medalist in the 200-meter sprint at the 1988 Olympics in Seoul, South Korea. Mr. Thompson was an assistant coach of the United States track team in Seoul.
Many of the Atoms’ victories could not be clocked by stopwatches. In its first 15 years, the club produced 50 college graduates, a remarkable record given the economic status of their families. They became teachers, lawyers, nurses, psychologists, entrepreneurs — and mothers. “One’s a doctor now, and another runs a study program in a state college,” Mr. Thompson told The Times in 1979.
“But we’ve lost some, too,” he added. “We had a little girl we called Cricket who still holds the 100-yard dash record for 12- and 13-year-olds. But the streets got her. She stopped coming to practice. Another girl, a shot-putter named Diane, they found her dead from an overdose of drugs. I made all my girls go to her funeral. It wasn’t easy. They were crying. They took it hard. But I thought it was something they should see.”
The coach often sounded like a father, although he was a bachelor and had no children. “I’ve always been single,” he told the Timessportswriter Gerald Eskenazi in 1985. “I came close to getting married twice. I miss not having a kid. People say, ‘You have many kids,’ but it’s not the same.”
Frederick Delano Thompson was born in Brooklyn on May 21, 1933. When he was 5, his parents, Hector Joseph Thompson and Evelyn Cethas, split up, and Fred and his brother, John, were sent to live with an aunt, Ira Johnson, who had a deep influence on the boys.
“Life is two things,” Mr. Thompson recalled her saying. “One, get an education, because once you have a college diploma nobody can take that away from you. And two, get involved with people.”
Fred followed both suggestions. He grew up in Bedford-Stuyvesant and graduated from Boys High in 1950. At City College, he began as a chemical engineering major but switched to history and graduated with a bachelor’s degree in 1955. He then studied law at St. John’s University, earning his degree in 1958.
After two years in the Army, he was admitted to the state bar in 1961 and opened a private law practice in Brooklyn. He worked mostly on negligence cases.
Aware of the city’s shortage of track facilities for the young, and particularly concerned about limited girls’ participation in intramural and interscholastic sports activities, Mr. Thompson followed his aunt’s advice to become involved. He became a civilian volunteer with the Police Athletic League and then founded the Atoms Track Club. Soon he had dozens of members.
“Most of them are not from circumstances and surroundings that you would call ideal,” he told The Times. “They have home problems, social problems, boy problems and many other problems. You can’t just sweep these under the rug if you want to see them develop their talents and succeed in life. So I involve myself.”
A decade later, in 1972, the landmark federal legislation known as Title IX, which banned sex discrimination in any educational program receiving federal funds, became law. It was the beginning of a sea change for female athletes. Before the law, about 310,000 girls and women in America were participating in high school and college sports. Today, federal officials say, there are 3.3 million.
Mr. Thompson, who handled legal cases for ABC-TV, the Federal Trade Commission and Madison Square Garden and was an assistant state attorney general from 1967 to 1969, gave up law practice in 1974, when he became the full-time paid director of the Colgate Women’s Games. Sponsored by Colgate-Palmolive, the games have been a huge, complex operation, often attracting as many as 20,000 competitors of all ages.
He remained the coach of the Atoms until after the turn of the century, when its membership began to dwindle, and directed the Colgate Women’s Games for 40 years until his retirement in 2014.
Mr. Thompson, whose brother died some years ago, leaves no immediate survivors. He had Alzheimer’s disease in recent years but remained at his home in Brooklyn, cared for by Ms. Forde, one of his best and most devoted former runners. A sprinter from Barbados, she competed in the 1972 and 1976 Summer Olympics and in the 1975 Pan American Games.
“Fred Thompson is one of those special people that a sport such as track and field needs,” the Times columnist Dave Anderson wrote in 1979. “In the big money sports, a coach can always dream of going on to a lucrative career in college or in the pros. In track and field, there is no big money as there is in football or basketball. In track and field, the love of the sport is true; the dream is pure.”

Source: New York Times

 Boys High, CCNY, and St. John's said it all about this New York native's roots.  Starting the Atoms Track Club, watching it flourish when there was a need, and finally watching it diminish and end because people like him eliminated that need for girls' participation said even more about his character.  That same scenario played out all over the United States in the 1960s and 70s but Fred Thompson was the kingpin the NYC.   Bill Schnier

One of the kindest coaches I knew.

Friday, January 18, 2019

V 9 N. 3 "(Re)Presenting Wilma Rudolph", A Book Review by Grace Butcher

Rita Liberti & Maureen M. Smith. (Re)Presenting Wilma Rudolph. Syracuse: Syracuse University Press, 2015. 328pp.

Reviewed by Grace Butcher.   .

   Authors Liberti and Smith take a close look at the story of Wilma Rudolph, one of the greatest sprinters of all times (3 gold medals in the 1960 Rome Olympics: 100, 200, and 4 x 100 relay) through the lens of current events, “by examining who is served by continually romanticizing the track star and her achievements for the past half-century.” In seven chapters, arranged thematically rather than chronologically, plus a lengthy introduction and conclusion (along with almost a hundred pages of notes, bibliography, and index) the authors dig deeply into events as presented in the media of those times. They focus on errors, omissions, and misrepresentations that now seem obvious with hindsight in our own era of intense and instant scrutiny of the lives of famous athletes.

   The erroneous identification of Rudolph as the first woman ever to win three gold medals in the Olympics is quickly corrected although it has persisted over the decades.  “What is safe to say is that Rudolph was the first American woman to win three gold medals in track and field in a single Olympiad...also the first African American woman....” 

   Chapter One describes the behind-the-scenes activity, the planning and plotting, as Clarksville Tennessee became the focal point of the nation for the brief period of Rudolph's homecoming celebration.  Rudolph's unusually bold request to public officials that her homecoming events, the parade and dinner, be integrated, led to Clarksville's claim to being in the forefront of a new and liberal South. In reality, few changes would occur in the status of Blacks in that city or elsewhere in the South for years after her few moments of glory.

   Chapter Two, subtitled “The Politics of Race and Beauty,” calls our attention to Rudolph's image as taken up by the press: “...a slender beauty...the legs of a showgirl.” (Sports columnist Jerry Footlick) . Or Newsweek: “...unlike many American female athletes, she looks feminine.” Sports Illustrated called her a “cafe au lait runner,” a reference to her light skin color. Mademoiselle: “...the very embodiment of black grace, a beautiful, flowing, lissome sight....”  Her athletic accomplishments were often in the background of an article as if proving that her beauty, femininity, grace, poise, and sweetness were her most important attributes.

     At the sold-out (14,000) Los Angeles Invitational indoor track meet in Jan. 1961, her presence completely overshadowed that of any other Olympians, male or female. One of the photos in this book shows her prior to the meet, in a form-fitting skirt and frilly blouse, feminine above all else, jogging on the indoor track, followed by Olympians Dickie Howard and Don Bragg appropriately dressed in their USA warm up suits. This photo, ironically, is the only one in the book that shows her on a track, “running.” Some photos of her Olympic victories—or any other of her races—would have been welcome, but Liberti and Smith have chosen to de-emphasize her athletic accomplishments, as much as the media of her day seemed to do, in their goal of spotlighting, instead, everything that was not brought to light during Rudolph's journey to Rome and beyond.
   In Chapter Three we see the unexpected connection between the Cold War and female athletes in the US.  In the famous dual meets between the USA and the USSR, the Soviets granted their women equal respect and status as athletes, their points in the meets being totaled with the men's to determine the outcome of the competition. The US insisted on scoring separately, to be able to say that while our women lost, our men won. The incongruity of this approach was not lost on athletes and fans alike. The obvious reason for it was that at the time US women were not of the caliber of the Soviet women whose training was serious and intense year round, providing an unfavorable comparison of the US “democratic” way and the USSR's “communist” commitment to excellence.

   The government-funded Soviet programs “designed to develop fully the most talented, irrespective of gender...cast a rare spotlight on US female athletes....” The beauty issue continued to rear its ugly head.  However “the nation's fears of being beaten by the Russians eclipsed anxieties of mannish women running around a track.”  It could be said the real winners of the Cold War were all the young American girls so long denied opportunity to excel in sports.

   Ironically, Rudolph's victories also served to call attention to our years of racism and segregation. We glorified our Black athletes only when it was politically expedient and relegated them to obscurity once the spotlight was turned off.  The 1961 film, Wilma Rudolph, Olympic Champion, produced by the United States Information Agency, “features the athlete's accomplishments on the track, as it simultaneously obscures the racial injustices she endured away from it.”

    Rudolph's only known participation in public protest, a failed attempt, with others, to be served at a Clarksville restaurant in June of 1963, received little notice in the press other than a small headline in the Pittsburgh Courier that read “Wilma Finds Key to City Doesn't Work.” By 1964, with husband Robert Eldridge, her high school sweetheart, she had settled into relative domesticity and didn't even mention the incident in her 1977 autobiography, apparently opting to remain “a Cold War icon rather than a civil rights soldier.”

   Chapter Four deals with Rudolph's childhood of illnesses and disability: “double pneumonia, scarlet fever, whooping cough, measles, chickenpox a tonsillectomy and an appendectomy” plus a leg brace from age five, worn for some years. However, by the time she was in high school, and later in college at Tennessee State under famous coach Ed Temple, her running ability brought her the feeling of freedom that her actual daily life did not. Even in traveling with the highly respected Tigerbelles track team she experienced all the restrictions in transportation, hotels, and restaurants as she always had throughout her earlier life.

    Discovering she was pregnant in her senior year of high school seemed barely an issue. She says, “The black girls stayed in school pregnant, like nothing was wrong at all…and there really wasn't any stigma to it....” She enrolled at Tennessee State shortly after having her daughter who went to live with Rudolph's sister while Wilma pursued her Olympic dreams. She had actually won a bronze relay medal at age 16 in the 1956 Olympics, a feat little noticed by press or community. Her goal was gold four years later. But after achieving that goal, she settled into family life, finding few opportunities for competition and focusing instead on the value of relationships within her very large family. (Her dad's two marriages had produced twenty-two children.)

    “Biopics, Nostalgia, and Family in the 1970's” is the subtitle for Chapter Five, Wilma. The famous Olympic documentary film maker, Bud Greenspan produced the film of that name saying, “I wanted hers to be a true sports story.” Yet her relationship with her father seems to be the main focus of the film. The authors argue that Greenspan presents a nostalgic and unrealistic look back at the significance of family in the 50's: “Rudolph's life and her experiences are flattened, simplified, and made two-dimensional” as the film neglects “larger social issues and forces.” Liberti and Smith take issue with Greenspan's overlooking her real life as a “poor black girl raised in the Jim Crow South,” and giving audiences only “cinematic comfort food.”

   The four major male figures in her life—her father, her high school track coach, her coach at TSU, and  later her husband—command so much screen time in the film in their directives and decisions about her future that her athletic accomplishments seem “barely an afterthought...throughout the film.” Greenspan's “determination to be inspirational” leaves us viewing Rudolph's track career as if through the wrong end of a telescope while magnifying a family life that was lived under the shadow of the  racism of the times. In films, children's books, newspapers, and magazines from Rudolph's own era, we're never told the whole truth of the struggle by  female athletes in general and Black female athletes in particular for recognition and opportunity.

    Chapter Six re-emphasizes the limitations of biographies written for children. The twenty or so books about Wilma focus on her overcoming a crippling disability in early childhood, persisting in her Olympic goal, and eventually triumphing through hard work and determination. In these books her life is “seen as being under the total command of the track star herself,” while in reality, every step of her journey was made with great difficulty as she struggled with the discrimination and social injustice of the 50's and 60's. Liberti and Smith maintain that “[B]ooks written for children about Wilma Rudolph remain mired in [the] past....”  They see these stories as “devoid of any political and social context...filled instead with stereotypes and misrepresentations of [prevailing attitudes about] disability.”

   The last chapter shows us, in part through the few illustrations, the various earlier efforts to memorialize Rudolph: a statue, an obscure historical marker, a neglected section of local highway bearing her name, an event center in Clarksville and a dorm and indoor track at TSU also named for her. In 2004 a twenty-three cent stamp bearing her likeness was issued by The United States Postal Service as part of its Distinguished American series. At the time, that was the price of a postcard. 

   In their conclusion, the authors say, “We often lamented her early death [from a brain tumor in 1994 at age 54]...and the loss of her voice and the opportunity to 're-write' her story.” In this book, they have, in a sense, done just that. They find it less than honest to separate this great athlete from every nuanced detail of her difficult life and to focus only on the inspirational story which has prevailed for many decades.  One must delve into the history of the segregated South and weave it into every aspect of her too-brief life in order for any story about her to be true and complete.

   Re-writing/revising/ re-presenting history can be a daunting task. It couldn't happen in Rudolph's own time, but the authors have dug deeply and made it happen now. Liberti and Smith seem to wish that the media back in the day had told it like it was, and that Wilma Rudolph could have used her golden powers for social change. Instead she chose post-Olympic domesticity and relative obscurity.

   Perhaps she had no golden powers then. She was Black, she was female, she ran.

Lest it be forgotten,  Grace Butcher was several times US women's 880 champion and member of the US team that competed against the Soviet Union in Philadelphia.  Grace has had a multi-faceted career as a runner, poet, professor of English, motorcycle racer and writer, and mother. She was one of the major movers in the effort to get US officialdom to allow women to run distances over 220 yards.   She lives outside of Cleveland, OH.  Grace is featured in Amby Burfoot's 2016 book  

First Ladies of Running: 22 Inspiring Profiles of the Rebels, Rule Breakers, and Visionaries Who Changed the Sport Forever

For some of her literary work we refer you this this posting on our blog .  
Grace Butcher  clik here.

Sunday, January 13, 2019

V 9 N. 2 "Running With the Buffaloes" Twenty Years Down the Pike

Once Again Running With The Buffaloes

By Paul O’Shea

Some books merit a second read.

When the University of Colorado and its Dani Jones won the 2018 NCAA women’s team
and individual cross country titles, I remembered Chris Lear’s revelation, Running with
the Buffaloes.

More than two decades ago a twenty-four-year old Lear shadowed the Buffs, from
pre-season running camp through to the NCAA championship race. From that
investment he wrote Running with the Buffaloes, the book that came to be called a
“cult classic” by the chaps at LetsRun.  “Classic,” without question. “Cult,” an adjective
too far for legions who cherish the sport of cross country.

But a book well deserving a second read, if not a first.

Embedded with the Colorado team in 1998, Lear trailed the runners on his bike
(recuperating from surgery for a plantar fascia tear).  He wrote daily entries in a journal.
He grew close to Adam Goucher who would win the individual NCAA title that year.
Lear monitored Goucher’s workouts such as the run of 22 miles in two hours and three
minutes off collegiate, rather than professional, marathon training. He mourned with the
team as it confronted the sudden death of one of its top runners.  

Chris Lear brought his own significant credentials to the task.  At Princeton, he was a two-
time captain of the cross country team and All American.

Goucher wrote in the book’s foreword, “Chris was there through it all, every step of every
run.  He witnessed each moment of pain, distress, excitement, and happiness with every
workout. Almost instantly, his presence among the team became natural, he fit in, and he
became one of us.”

I picked up Buffaloes again because I wanted to find out how they did it twenty years ago.
The Wetmore formula, the camaraderie built from shared sacrifice apparently stood the
test over decades. Lear revealed the planning, work, commitment and costs paid by the
young men who were unrelenting in their drive to win Nationals. Wetmore is the only
NCAA cross country coach to win all four NCAA titles—men’s and women team and
individual titles.  Since taking the Colorado job in 1992 his teams have won five men’s
and three women’s NCAA team crowns.

While Wetmore is known for building high performance teams, he’s also played a
significant role in developing collegiate and professional talent. In addition to Goucher,
University of Colorado alums include Dathan Ritzenheim, Jenny Simpson, Jorge Torres,
Emma Coburn and Kara Grgas-Wheeler (now Kara Goucher).  Each has won an NCAA,
World or Olympic medal.

Since Running with the Buffaloes’ publication in 2000, no other writer has taken on the
challenge of writing the tick-tock, the chronology of a cross country team’s season. Lear’s
book reminds us of another engrossing day-to-day accounting, Daniel James Brown’
best-selling The Boys in the Boat, the saga of the 1936 Olympic gold medal winning
eight-oared crew.

Buffaloes wasn’t a one-time effort. Lear also wrote Sub 4:00: Alan Webb and the Quest for
the Fastest Mile.

Midway through the season the team sustained an almost unimaginable tragedy. Chris
Severy, its No. 2 was killed in an accident when he lost control riding his mountain bike
down a steep road, west of Boulder. A Rhodes Scholar candidate, Severy had been a
member of the l995 U.S. World cross country team.

The Wetmore formula takes few high profile high school runners into the Colorado fold,
works them heavily (100-mile weeks are common) and makes modifications to the
training plan.  A disciple of the legendary New Zealand coach Arthur Lydiard (see under
Peter Snell), it’s a high mileage regimen, with the Sunday run of twenty or more miles up
Boulder’s Magnolia Road weekly oil change.  Wetmore records each day’s workout, and
how it affects each runner. Moving up in mileage from their high school days, first year
runners unable to handle the program are sorted. Few walk-ons make the team.  

Wetmore adjusts his plan, sometimes in imperceptible ways.  LetsRun writer Jonathan
Gault interviewed Jorge Torres in 1999 after the Buffaloes finished seventh in the
Nationals, an unusually poor showing. Torres told Gault that the team had taken a private
plane to the meet in Indianapolis.  Wetmore considered the perk, said the team would not
repeat that transportation choice, and from then on the team flew commercial.

This past November, just after the Nationals, Gault commemorated the twentieth
anniversary of Lear’s sojourn with the team in a lengthy LetsRun interview with the

Lear exhibited refreshing modesty about the book’s acclaim.  He told Gault: “The fact
that it’s still being talked about twenty years later and I still hear from people that are
reading it for the first time and saying that man, they really like it, that means a lot to me…
Every once in a while I’m lucky enough to hear about people that say (it’s) had some
positive influence on their life or on their running.  And who can ask for more than that?
It’s pretty awesome.”

Now in his mid-forties, Lear sells medical devices and lives in Boston.
Meanwhile, in Boulder, now and for the years since landing in a private jet, the Buffs have
learned to love middle seat 27E.

George Roy and Steve:

I'm glad that you are all settled in and anxious to Blog to us all in 2019!
Can't wait!

I read "Running with the Buffaloes" when it came out. It was very informative, uplifting. Just a great read..
Including the tragic early morning episode when their teammate was en route on his downhill bicycle 
run from his cabin to the campus; only to miss a turn he'd taken hundreds of time and, hitting a tree head on: resulting in his death.
Such a shocking loss by his teammates might have made lesser men to lose heart and the NCAA title.

Even more inspiring was the Epic Novel "The Boys in the Boat".
When I first heard to title I thought it might be about Nazi's landing in Argentina  after WWII
But, the story of the U of Washington men, who rowed to victory in the 1936 Olympics, against all odds,
including the obstacles that the German Olympic Officials placed in their path was so inspiring!

Their stories of growing up poor in Washinton and their varied paths to the rowing shed at U of W.
and their lives after the 1936 Games was truly uplifting!!!   5 Stars!

Thanks for reminding me of these great reads!!

John Bork  

Thanks, John,  it was Paul O'Shea who gets the credit for the book review.

  Thanks for the blog update.  You have really done us all a service and yourself as well.  All of us have connected with each other in unexpected ways due to your blog, so thanks.

   As for Running with the Buffaloes, I have a love/hate opinion of the book.  Love since it caused me to bump up the mileage for the long distance types, and hate because several runners back in the 1990s were absolutely devoted to mileage when they should not have been, based on this book.  In my opinion it hurt their running. 

   There is no one way to get there because many have been tried.  What is the best method?  (1) lots of short intervals (Igloi), tempo runs (Kenyans), LSD (Lydiard & Wetmore), combination (a very insignificant Schnier).  I think there is no one answer but instead one which meets the needs of the individual and also a coach who can sell his program to the team.

Paul O’Shea has participated in cross-country and track and field since before Mrs. Bowerman lost her waffle iron. After a four-decade career in corporate communications Paul coached the high school girls’ cross country team at Oak Knoll School in Summit, New Jersey. His assistant coach was Tim Lear, Chris’s twin brother. A long-time contributor to Cross Country Journal, Paul now writes for Once Upon a Time in the Vest.  He lives in Northern Virginia and can be reached at Poshea17 @ aol.com.

Wednesday, January 2, 2019

V 9 N. 1 HIstorical clips of old Hayward Field, Eugene, Oregon, just released

The Spirit of Oregon Track and Field  Clik Here

The Knight Library at University of Oregon just released this 4min 49 second series of clips from track and field meets at Hayward Field going back to the 1920s and up to the present.  It is for true track and field lovers.  The background narration is uncoordinated to what you are seeing on the screen .  You have to really know your Oregon track history to identify the guys and women appearing in this clip.  One arial view would indicate that there was an adjacent track to Hayward way back when.  It would take a trivia expert of phenomenal ability to identify everyone, but it is a fun film to view and to date only 7 people have witnessed it, so if you make the first ten viewers, you will receive a one year free subscription to this blog.  Good viewing and a great 2019 of track and field.

V 11 N. 3 "Quicksilver: The Mercurial Emil Zatopek" by Pat Butcher, a Book Review by Paul O'Shea

When we come across books to review, we know that there is a particular skill set needed to be fair and honest and at the same time literary...