This special moment in sport goes all the way back to when I was in Primary School(almost 20 yrs ago). How could Primary School produce this awsome moment you say? Well, it did. And here's how.
The big school sports day. The day ALL primary schools in my town in country VIC came together for its sports day. When you didn't only do battle against your mates, but against unknowns. Kids who may have had actual talent. Scary! I will say this right now that I was an awsome triple jumper. The hop,step and jump. A was good! My wife reckons it was a 'sissy' event. How rude! But that is not where the great sporting moment came from - unfortunatly.
The day was warm and sunny at the local footy ground as hundreds of kids battled away. Battled hard. High jump. Long jump. Triple jump - go me! Shot put. Hurdles. Everything. Why is it that every other school always seemed to have better atheletes? Like OUR school were full of nerds or something? We were pround of our school and its history, so we pushed hard. But the day had nearly come to an end. And so it came down to the final event - the 400m relay.
Our school along with the others were lined up along the final 100m. Each school having its banner representing who it was. The kids sitting in a large group behind it. With the 4 kids from out school placed in their respective positions around the 'running track' - grass marked out. We were nervous. We wern't expecting a victory. Why would we? The other schools were ALWAYS better!
BANG! The race got underway. Kids from every school screaming and shouting on the side lines as their team raced around the track. The first 100m gone. Batton change and onto the next 100m. And as it went on it was obvious out team, OUR school was in trouble. Big trouble. We were fading fast. Too fast! The 2nd 100m again was over. Batton change. The 3rd leg. And by the looks of it, we were near last, if not actually last. Dissapointing!
I just want to say at this point a little something about the speed of the race. Remember that these were primary school kids. NOT 10 sec per 100m atheletes! Time over 100m? I have no idea. 20 sec? 30 sec? So it wasn't over in the blink of an eye. More like a V8 Supercar endurance race at Bathurst. Anything could happen. Plenty could happen!
3rd leg almost over. The 4th and final about to begin. Whats the point? We can't win! WAY behind. Now, the kid running the 4th leg was known by all. He was slightly bigger than most too. But lean. Built for speed. And playing 'tiggy' at school we knew he was fast. In fact, he was damn fast. But surely it was all over? Some had changed battons to the last runner!
I can still to his day picture that last batton change. The 'kid' holding out his hand for it. The moment when he grabbed it. And the mental picture of his body as he accelerated away.Its all there. And what I'm about to relate now STILL gives me goosebumps. Right now as I right this, I have them. Because it was totaly unexpected.
He was catching them. And catching them damn quick. As he tore away, our school knew it. Knew that he was in for a chance. Not RIGHT away, but once he had hit top speed, it was obvious that he'd catch most if not all. And we screamed. We shouted. By the 50m mark he was almost on top of them. He was right in front of us now. We rose as one. Our school united in chorus. Screaming. SCREAMING! Go! GO!!! It WAS imposibble. We had no right to be in with that chance. No right at all! But he was making it happen. This quite kid. A bit of a mysterey. I was never REAL close to him. I don't think anyone was. He wasn't at the school as long as we were. But for whatever reason, he was doing it for us.
With blinding speed he tore into the lead with metres to spare and crossed the line first. First. FIRST! UNBELIEVABLE!!!!! We ran. Ran hard down the end to congratulate him. Screaming and shouting with joy. What a race! We did it. WE DID IT!!!! High fives and slaps on the back for the 'kid'. He deserved it. Because he ran the race of life. And won.
Corny? Perhaps. It sounds like a scene from the 'Wonder Years' with Fred Savage. But thats EXACTLY what it was like. A dream. A dream that came true. Whatever happened to the 'kid'(his name escapes me) I don't know. I believe he may have gone on as a sprinter somewhere. But I've never heard of him since. But who knows. Maybe he's out there after having a fine career as a pro sprinter. Perhaps not. Maybe life took a different course for him.
But I know this. If it WASN'T for him, then I'd never have seen THE greatest moment in sport - EVER.
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The sun had set. Darkness was slowly envoloping the football ground on this summer evening. An old man was busily working away on a broken sprinker head near a shed which had its door open and light on. Light that the old man was using to work by. The old man stopped in his work and turned. A car was approaching. It stopped not far away and a man in his late 20's got out and walked over to the old man.
"Hi there. Do you mind if I take a walk out onto the oval?"
"Hmmph. What-do-ya wanna do that for"? grunted the old man.
"Just want to take a look around for a minute or two" the young man replied.
"Whatever. Puttin the sprinklers on soon. Don't be bloody long".
"Thanks".
Off he walked out onto the oval. The old man going back to working on his sprinkler head. But taking the odd glance at the young man in the gloom who was at times doing some funny things on the oval. Slowly jogging. Looking around. Stopping. Before jogging again. Raising his arms.
"Bloody young blokes. Too much bloody time on their hands", the old man said to himself.
The young man was coming back now.
"Thanks. Have a nice night" spoke the young man
"What the bloody hell was all that about?", queried the old man.
The young man smiled. "Just dreaming. Goodnight."
"Ok young fella," replied the old man as the other walked quickly back to his car.
The old man finished with his tools and walked into the shed to put them back. Just before he turned off the light and closed the door, he looked over into the shed. A shed that only he had a key too. The far wall was covered in photo's. Old photo's. Black and white photo's that were covered in dust. And in the corner a box. A dusty box that had old trophys and ribbons piled into it. The old man looked at one photo in particular. A picture of a young man standing on a podium that was higher than two other podiums around him. A large stand filled with people was in the backround. An Australian flag could also be seen on a pole in the backround. As could another. One that had rings on it flapping in the breeze. The young man in the picture wore a meddle around his neck. He had a smile on his face.
The old man was staring. Not at the picture. But at something in the past. Suddenly he turned and looked at the dissapearing lights of the young mans car. He had a glint in his eye. And a smile. A smile not too different to the young man in the photo.
"You keep dreaming son. You keep dreaming."
The big school sports day. The day ALL primary schools in my town in country VIC came together for its sports day. When you didn't only do battle against your mates, but against unknowns. Kids who may have had actual talent. Scary! I will say this right now that I was an awsome triple jumper. The hop,step and jump. A was good! My wife reckons it was a 'sissy' event. How rude! But that is not where the great sporting moment came from - unfortunatly.
The day was warm and sunny at the local footy ground as hundreds of kids battled away. Battled hard. High jump. Long jump. Triple jump - go me! Shot put. Hurdles. Everything. Why is it that every other school always seemed to have better atheletes? Like OUR school were full of nerds or something? We were pround of our school and its history, so we pushed hard. But the day had nearly come to an end. And so it came down to the final event - the 400m relay.
Our school along with the others were lined up along the final 100m. Each school having its banner representing who it was. The kids sitting in a large group behind it. With the 4 kids from out school placed in their respective positions around the 'running track' - grass marked out. We were nervous. We wern't expecting a victory. Why would we? The other schools were ALWAYS better!
BANG! The race got underway. Kids from every school screaming and shouting on the side lines as their team raced around the track. The first 100m gone. Batton change and onto the next 100m. And as it went on it was obvious out team, OUR school was in trouble. Big trouble. We were fading fast. Too fast! The 2nd 100m again was over. Batton change. The 3rd leg. And by the looks of it, we were near last, if not actually last. Dissapointing!
I just want to say at this point a little something about the speed of the race. Remember that these were primary school kids. NOT 10 sec per 100m atheletes! Time over 100m? I have no idea. 20 sec? 30 sec? So it wasn't over in the blink of an eye. More like a V8 Supercar endurance race at Bathurst. Anything could happen. Plenty could happen!
3rd leg almost over. The 4th and final about to begin. Whats the point? We can't win! WAY behind. Now, the kid running the 4th leg was known by all. He was slightly bigger than most too. But lean. Built for speed. And playing 'tiggy' at school we knew he was fast. In fact, he was damn fast. But surely it was all over? Some had changed battons to the last runner!
I can still to his day picture that last batton change. The 'kid' holding out his hand for it. The moment when he grabbed it. And the mental picture of his body as he accelerated away.Its all there. And what I'm about to relate now STILL gives me goosebumps. Right now as I right this, I have them. Because it was totaly unexpected.
He was catching them. And catching them damn quick. As he tore away, our school knew it. Knew that he was in for a chance. Not RIGHT away, but once he had hit top speed, it was obvious that he'd catch most if not all. And we screamed. We shouted. By the 50m mark he was almost on top of them. He was right in front of us now. We rose as one. Our school united in chorus. Screaming. SCREAMING! Go! GO!!! It WAS imposibble. We had no right to be in with that chance. No right at all! But he was making it happen. This quite kid. A bit of a mysterey. I was never REAL close to him. I don't think anyone was. He wasn't at the school as long as we were. But for whatever reason, he was doing it for us.
With blinding speed he tore into the lead with metres to spare and crossed the line first. First. FIRST! UNBELIEVABLE!!!!! We ran. Ran hard down the end to congratulate him. Screaming and shouting with joy. What a race! We did it. WE DID IT!!!! High fives and slaps on the back for the 'kid'. He deserved it. Because he ran the race of life. And won.
Corny? Perhaps. It sounds like a scene from the 'Wonder Years' with Fred Savage. But thats EXACTLY what it was like. A dream. A dream that came true. Whatever happened to the 'kid'(his name escapes me) I don't know. I believe he may have gone on as a sprinter somewhere. But I've never heard of him since. But who knows. Maybe he's out there after having a fine career as a pro sprinter. Perhaps not. Maybe life took a different course for him.
But I know this. If it WASN'T for him, then I'd never have seen THE greatest moment in sport - EVER.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The sun had set. Darkness was slowly envoloping the football ground on this summer evening. An old man was busily working away on a broken sprinker head near a shed which had its door open and light on. Light that the old man was using to work by. The old man stopped in his work and turned. A car was approaching. It stopped not far away and a man in his late 20's got out and walked over to the old man.
"Hi there. Do you mind if I take a walk out onto the oval?"
"Hmmph. What-do-ya wanna do that for"? grunted the old man.
"Just want to take a look around for a minute or two" the young man replied.
"Whatever. Puttin the sprinklers on soon. Don't be bloody long".
"Thanks".
Off he walked out onto the oval. The old man going back to working on his sprinkler head. But taking the odd glance at the young man in the gloom who was at times doing some funny things on the oval. Slowly jogging. Looking around. Stopping. Before jogging again. Raising his arms.
"Bloody young blokes. Too much bloody time on their hands", the old man said to himself.
The young man was coming back now.
"Thanks. Have a nice night" spoke the young man
"What the bloody hell was all that about?", queried the old man.
The young man smiled. "Just dreaming. Goodnight."
"Ok young fella," replied the old man as the other walked quickly back to his car.
The old man finished with his tools and walked into the shed to put them back. Just before he turned off the light and closed the door, he looked over into the shed. A shed that only he had a key too. The far wall was covered in photo's. Old photo's. Black and white photo's that were covered in dust. And in the corner a box. A dusty box that had old trophys and ribbons piled into it. The old man looked at one photo in particular. A picture of a young man standing on a podium that was higher than two other podiums around him. A large stand filled with people was in the backround. An Australian flag could also be seen on a pole in the backround. As could another. One that had rings on it flapping in the breeze. The young man in the picture wore a meddle around his neck. He had a smile on his face.
The old man was staring. Not at the picture. But at something in the past. Suddenly he turned and looked at the dissapearing lights of the young mans car. He had a glint in his eye. And a smile. A smile not too different to the young man in the photo.
"You keep dreaming son. You keep dreaming."
