RUNNING WILD

I always enjoyed Field and Track games. In this yarn, I relate how my love affair with this sport began.

RUNNING WILD

The 2003 baseball season came to a dramatic finish when the Florida Marlins defeated the New York Yankees to win the World Series trophy. In the process, the team spawned a completely new bevy of sports heroes. In years to come, young kids will try to emulate the way their favorite player pitched or hit, hoping to become a ‘big leaguer.’

Despite Charles Barclay’s assertion, “I am not a role model,” young fans continue to place their athletic idols on pedestals including some whose feet are made of clay.

In my youth, I enshrined a number of sports figures. My baseball favorite was Mel Ott, the New York Giants right fielder, who had a unique batting stance. A left-handed slugger, he would raise his right leg in a singularly unique manner as the pitch sailed in toward him and then stride forward while swinging the bat. Whenever I played baseball, I did my best to imitate his swing, although I batted right handed. The highlight of my sandlot days happened in a game in which I smashed a drive that went for a triple, the only hit our side managed in a shutout loss. I credited Mel.

However, when football season began, my allegiance switched gears. I yearned to play for Notre Dame after watching film of Bill Shakespeare, their 1935 All-American halfback, pass for a touchdown. I spent hours trying to toss a football with his classic spiral motion, and became good enough to lead my ragamuffin team to many a sandlot victory using his technique.

Growing up in Hoboken, it was mandatory that a boy know how to fistfight. Coached by my brother, I adopted Joe Louis’ shuffling footwork style. My brother taught me how to jab, punching straight out rather than swinging with reckless abandon, as most boys my age were prone to do. Although I was a puny runt of a kid, I boxed very well and retired from pugilism at age thirteen after engaging in six fights, including a few with boxing gloves, undefeated. By emulating the Brown Bomber, I became virtually invincible.

However, Glenn Cunningham, the famous track star, topped my ‘wannabe’ list. In 1938, I saw a MovieTone newsreel that showed him winning an indoor mile race at Dartmouth College on a new high-banked track in the memorable time of 4:04.4 minutes.

Glenn overcame great adversity in his life. A Kansas schoolhouse kerosene stove blew up when he was very young, severely burning his legs and killing his brother. He remained bedridden for many weeks and many thought he might never walk again. He discovered that his legs pained him less when he ran than when he walked and this led to his amazing career in Track and Field, including appearances in the 1932 and 1936 Olympic Games. I always admired him and hated Roger Bannister for breaking the four-minute barrier some years later. Now, the mile record is down around the 3:50 mark. Still, Glenn’s four-oh-four-dot-four stays in my heart and mind as being the most magical and memorable race time in history.

I could bat like Mel, pass like Bill, and box like Joe, but I never had the endurance to run a mile like Glenn. Still, when push comes to shove, you would be amazed at how fast I am still able to sprint in order to avoid confrontation with anyone. Did you know my nickname is Flash?

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