Of mice and supermen
As we enter the full-on festive season bombarded in the media by informed choices of 2019’s highlights in every walk of life and salutes to those high-achieving or notable individuals “who left us” during the past twelve months, today I wanted to pen few words upon one of the latter.
Reading the obituaries of Sir Peter Snell over the past few days, the Kiwi who imperiously bestrode the world of middle distance running between the Olympic Games of 1960 and 1964, was a welcome opportunity to remind oneself of both the career milestones and the essentially self-effacing character of this titan of elite athletics who retired the age of 26 and spent the bulk of his later life in American academia, becoming a leading world expert in the science of human performance.
Not bad for a kid who began life in Opunake, a tiny town in the North Island.
I was nine years old whilst the Rome Olympics were on.
Cue references to the GB gold medals won by Ken Matthews (20km walk), Mary Rand (long jump), Ann Packer (800 metres) and Lynn Davies (long jump).
And also, perhaps a nod to the silver medal won by the men’s 4 x 400 metres relay team of Adrian Metcalfe, Robbie Brightwell (Packer’s fiancé at the time), John Cooper and John Graham – and watched the black and white BBC TV coverage of the Olympiad obsessively with my family and friends as it unfolded.
Being a shy, sports-mad and highly-impressionable sort, I spent much of the mid-1960s transferring my hero-worshipping affections of the moment from one great champion to another as the seasons – and/or Test matches, rugby internationals, football cup games, and world heavyweight boxing bouts – progressed in succession.
Eventually (if memory serves correctly) I reached the position in which ‘my’ personal A-List of sporting heroes coalesced in a select group comprising just Gary Sobers, Cassius Clay and Peter Snell.
For someone barely into his teens – and with due deference to Jesus Christ and any other individual actually chosen or sent by God (if he exists) – these god-like (possibly alien) superhuman beings were not subject to the weaknesses, frailties or even physical laws that governed anyone else, myself included.
If Sobers ever dropped a catch in the slips, got caned for 30 runs off two overs, or was out for less than 20 – this could not possibly have been for any mistake or imperfection on his part.
He must have been ill, drugged by some evil miscreant, or otherwise defeated by elements beyond his control: there was no way he could ever have been bested fairly and squarely by any opponent or fellow competitor on that day.
Ditto applied to both Clay (later Muhammad Ali) and Peter Snell in my book at the time.
Clay was a special case, of course. His extraordinary magnetism and character, combined with his supreme abilities in the ring, caught the imagination of everyone I knew – and plainly also of untold millions around the world.
Looking back, I suspect my hero-worship combined a genuine appreciation of the talent and competitiveness displayed by these titans of the sporting world and also a secret envy and/or personal desire to emerge from some sort of human chrysalis within the next three to five years as an equivalent of one (or more) of them – a notion that probably says more about my personal character flaws and insecurities than anything else!
The saddest aspect of this delusion was that, somehow inside, I inherently sensed or knew that I already possessed everything mental – persistence, determination, drive, humility, stamina – to nurture and develop my sporting supremacy: the only raw material that I still required was the innate sporting talent.
And thus I spent about ten years waiting for the first green shoots of the latter to arrive.
They never did … and that is why I was consigned to a life of mediocrity and insignificance like everyone else on the planet – including you, my readers.
That ‘superhuman’ quality was present in spades in Peter Snell, the third of my A-List.
In his obituaries, references abounded to his size, strength, power and rugby-player physique; his competitiveness and tenacity; his stamina and relentless running style; and his devastating quality of finishing when all around him were fading or running on near-empty.
To finish, I will finish by offering Rusters the opportunity to see Snell once more at the height of his powers.
Here he is completing his epic 800 metres/1500 metres double gold medal feat at the Tokyo Olympics in 1964 by winning the latter, courtesy of – YOUTUBE
