14 MAY 1954, Page 25

UNDERGRADUATE

The Mile of the Century

11Y DUDLEY REEVES (Pembroke College, Oxford) OW admirably was the sang-froid of the average Englishman expressed on May 6th. How impeccably calm we all remained. The few youthful autograph- seekers had obviously not yet entered into their full inheritance of noble British reserve. How sickeningly British was the announcement of Bannister's superlative achievement ! With What cool aplomb did the suave announcer inform an excitable audience that the golden dream of athletics had become a gloriously British reality. " The result of event No. 9. the One Mile, was as follows (pause for effect): First. No. 41, R. G. Bannister—in a time which, subject to ratification, is a new track—English native—British national—British all-corners' —British Empire (the voice grew almost perceptibly tenser)--- WORLD record."

Something of a tremor ran through the two thousand Spectators, partially stunned by the fulfilment of the hopes they thought could never be realised. There is nothing so unexpected as the half-expected. Two or three naturalised subjects gave vent to cries of approbation, doubtlessly wonder- ing if their citizenship would have to be surrendered on the sPot. The British bulldog breed itself lounged slowly into action. A ripple of applause (there might be Americans present, remember) grew to a murmuring wave of approval, as gradually it dawned upon the imagination that Oxford's own athlete had come home to produce the fastest mile in recorded athletics. The elusive four-minute mile—it was all too much all too quickly. The mind grappled momentarily to comprehend the significance of it all. As the anti-climax of continuing the athletic programme was undertaken, our visual memories recaptured the race that would make headlines the, following day. Set in somewhat picturesque surroundings, with the squat tower of a church overlooking it from the north and a hint of the river beyond the trees to the south, the track was drying out well to a warm evening Sun after its soaking by rain-showers several minutes earlier. Event No. 9, the One Mile," interrupted our reveries. This Was the race we had paid our half-crowns to watch. The runners trotted on to the track, came under starter's orders and were off round the first bend. At the end of the second 'aP there was still every chance of a four-minute mile, with Bannister, the main hope, content to lie in second place. Two and a half laps completed, and another of Bannister's old university friends took the lead. The bell rang clearly, and the final lap must be completed within the minute. Sensing a record, the crowd itself put up a good performance, pre- pared to lash the favourite on to fiercer efforts by vocal encouragement. At last, none too soon for anybody, Bannister Sped past Chataway and opened up an expanding gap of several Yards. Only an incident such as Chathway's fall at Helsinki could rob Bannister of a record of some kind now. Gaining sPeed if anything, he breasted the tape as admirers rushed to greet him. sole means by which to settle disputes of an international order. We fervently hoped so. Meanwhile, had we paused to consider them, those who had paced the victor to his great individual win were donning their track suits and returning to the pavilion. The backroom boys of the athletic track, responsible on this occasion, as on many others, for forging a vital link in the completed chain of success, had once again been overlooked. The total praise of any venture will always be accredited to the Hillarys and Tensings of this world.

As we left the ground things came sweeping into perspective. There was a meal we must not miss, the writing of an essay we would dearly like to miss, sleep that awaited us at the end of the day and a score of other little things that constituted the daily round of common life.' How after all if a mile were to be run faster one day ? What sort of upstart goddess had men made for themselves in sport ? Was it a sign of the time when a city noted for its academic achievements should secure fame through a purely athletic accomplishment ? The words of the sports announcer, as crowds continued to surround Roger Bannister to the delay of the programme, came back to us with a renewed emphasis, ' Life must go on.'