TEENAGE OLYMPIC VISIONS

I was enjoying the views of our old Duarte backyard [here and here] and recalled the love and joy of growing up in the Walgenbach family.  Looking at the photos above, I am reminded of the multiplied and epic hours of play in that backyard with everything from swimming in a doughboy pool to playing football or pickle with Tom and Joe to me stringing a rope between the Elm Tree and the peach tree to see how high I could jump. I so badly wanted to be a qualifying high-jumper in track. The big name in those days was Dwight Stones.  Years later, between 2008-2013, I used to play basketball at Cameron Park in West Covina with his cousin, Chris, who had terrific speed and leaping ability in his own right as he shot those 20-foot baseline jumpers with 75% accuracy.  

Sports were a big deal to me growing up, mainly because my dad made sports an integral part of growing up.  When the family would go to Lacy Park in San Marino, it wasn't just to picnic, but a football scrimmage would form or 2-on-2 over-the-line would emerge.  And since my dad was an avid Notre Dame Football fan, it was impossible to escape the competitive rivalries of the Irish or the coaching legacies or the Heisman Trophy winners.  Whether it was watching Notre Dame on a Saturday morning play their rival Purdue or Michigan or Michigan State, it was always like watching some epic battle.  Sunday mornings were an extended part of the Saturday ritual that would start out at Santa Teresita's St. Joseph's Chapel at 5:45am, then to Bob's Big Boy on Foothill in Monrovia where I'd study Joe Theisman's stats and later Joe Montana's percentages from the Herald Examiner, compare the passing and rushing yards of each team, and check the quarters and imagine the tensions of the game.  Outside of this obsession with Notre Dame Football, my dad instilled a love for the Los Angeles Dodgers much earlier than the one for Notre Dame.  The Dodgers of the glory years, 1959-1965, were formative for me.  On my handheld transistor radio, I used to listen to the storied voice of Vin Scully call the play-by-play from the Twin Cities, Minneapolis and St. Paul, or from Baltimore, cities that because they belonged in the American League were almost the equivalent of Confederate states.  The black and white diamonds that I'd seen on television colored what I'd imagined what Baltimore looked like.

So it was no surprise that I would take part in the Presidential Physical Fitness Test of 1969 when I was 12 and in the 7th grade.  I remember doing sit-ups on the lawn just north of the Northview Jr. High gym, on the perimeter of "the big field." The numbers of the Test were an important goal to me.  It was akin to earning a Varsity or JV Letter in track, cross country, or basketball.  Without a doubt, the biggest sports influence on me growing up was my brother, Chuck, who ran Cross Country in his senior year of high school and then earned a starting position of wide receiver for the Citrus Owls football where his speed, pass reception percentage, and play-making out-foxed every opponent, often multiple opponents. His speed used to burn the defensive backs and safety to their envy.  I recall that the best I did in high school was earning a JV Letter in Cross Country. But it was in the 9th-grade year that my coach and teammates honored me, not so much for my speed, but for my heart, tenacity, and perseverance.  I earned a trophy for the Most-Improved.  And why not? My initial race times were so bad, close to 20 minutes, that there was nowhere for me to go but up. The end-of-the-year awards banquet was held at the elegant, smorgasbord of Griswold's in Claremont. I will never forget the night that Dad drove me out to Griswold's in Claremont to attend the Cross Country Awards ceremony.  I felt so honored by the trophy and ribboned medal, the recognition from my teammates, an honor made all the more meaningful by my dad's presence at my side. He waited patiently for the awards to be dished out and to hear my name called.  Once I received the trophy and the medal with ribbon, Dad says to me, "Let's go," and we did.  I could not have been happier.  

In addition to those sports in the backyard, we played croquet, badminton, volleyball, and boxed with Tom and Joe. Sally bought me a catcher's mitt one year and I loved thinking I was Tom Haller of the Dodgers. Dad bought me a pitchback from Sears. He loved sports, and I guess I knew which topics could appeal to his generosity. I miss that house. I miss those 60s and 70s when I grew up and lived with my older brothers and sisters and Mom and Dad.

There were some great Olympic moments back in the 1972 Munich Olympics, the shootings aside, one was Dave Wottle's Gold Medal 800-Meter run.  Race announcer, the famed Jim McKay, called it the "Wottle Kick," but Dave's sprints in the stretch earned him other names, like "The Head Waiter" and "Wottle the Throttle."  

The 1972 Olympic Games were filled with record-breaking and very memorable highlights.  Wikipedia provides a decent summary of a few of them.  One was of the unforgettable Mark Spitz.  Will never forget his dominance in each race, his speed, his power, his will, and the fact that he won 7 gold medals while setting world records in many of the events.  What I did not know is that he finished last in a butterfly event at Mexico City in 1968.  Talk about your vindication.

Mark Spitz set a world record when he won 7 gold medals (while on the way to setting a new world record for each of his seven gold medals) in a single Olympics, bringing his lifetime total to nine (he had won two golds in Mexico City's Games four years earlier). Being Jewish, Spitz was asked to leave Munich before the closing ceremonies for his own protection, after fears arose that he would be an additional target of those responsible for the Munich massacre. Spitz's record stood until 2008, when it was beaten by Michael Phelps who won eight gold medals in the pool. 

A high-school classmate, Rick Stevens, was a swimmer during high school, and he told me once on our way to a cross country event that he was only a second or two off of Mark Spitz's record for one type of race.  

Then there was the darling, Olga Korbut. 

Olga Korbut, a Soviet gymnast, became a media star after winning a gold medal in the team competition event, failing to win in the individual all-around after a fall (she was beaten by teammate Lyudmilla Turischeva), and finally winning two gold medals in the Balance Beam and the floor exercise events.  

Prefontaine was such a running idol in those days, a heroic figure for so many young American runners and athletes.  In this 1972 Olympic 5,000 meter race (3.10685596 miles), he finishes 4th but what a race he ran.  And perhaps the race that I looked for more than any other was the marathon, where Frank Shorter, born in West Germany, ended up winning it.  And I'll never forget the imposter that ran onto the course pretending to be the leader for a few seconds of faded glory. 

This documentary on Steve Prefontaine is excellent.  Be sure to watch the bonus video given by his roommate, Pat Tyson, who is now a running coach at Gonzaga.

And perhaps the race that I looked for more than any other was the marathon, where Frank Shorter, born in West Germany, ended up winning it.  And I'll never forget the imposter that ran onto the course pretending to be the leader for a few seconds of faded glory. 

 

Wikipedia reminds us,

American Frank Shorter, who was born in Munich, became the first from his country in 64 years to win the Olympic marathon. As Shorter was nearing the stadium, German student Norbert Sudhaus entered the stadium wearing a track uniform, joined the race and ran the last kilometre; thinking he was the winner, the crowd began cheering him before officials realized the hoax and security escorted Sudhaus off the track. Arriving seconds later, Shorter was understandably perplexed to see someone ahead of him and to hear the boos and catcalls meant for Sudhaus. This was the third time in Olympic history that an American had won the marathon (after Thomas Hicks 1904 and Johnny Hayes 1908) — and in none of those three instances did the winner enter the stadium first.   

Roger Bannister, an Englishman, was the first to run the mile in under 4 minutes.  He accomplished this on May 6, 1954, in 3:59.4 seconds.  Don Bowden was the first American to run the mile in under 4 minutes on June 1, 1957, he clocked a 3:58:7 mile, setting a new American record.  Jim Ryun was the second American to set a one-mile record on July 17, 1966, at 3:51.3,  He did it at age 19, the youngest to ever set a world record in running.  He beat his own record of 3:51:03 on June 23, 1967, at 3:51:01, a record that stood for 8 years.  

But unmatched is the current world record-holder, Hichame El Guerrouj, who clocked a mile at 3:43:13 July 7, 1999.  His record has stood for over 20 years. 

My other favorite runner of the period was Bill Rodgers from Boston.  Wikipedia reminds us that

Rodgers is best known for his 4 victories in both the Boston Marathons, including three straight 1978-1980 and the New York City Marathon between 1976 and 1980.  I remember him for these Boston Marathons.  Though Wikipedia calls him an Olympian, yes, he did compete in the Olympic Trials both in Montreal in 1976 and in Los Angeles in 1984.  But he completed only one Olympic Marathon in 1976, the Montreal Olympics, where he came in 40th place.  I guess did not qualify for the LA Marathon.  

I remember watching this race on television.  I must say that after learning what Bill Rodgers did with Frank Shorter in the 1975 Virginia Marathon, crossing the finish line holding hands in a tie, was a bit disturbing.  So his politics make me nauseous.