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by Barry Baddock
I’ve long held that distance-running has the same appeal as banging your head against a brick wall: it’s so nice when you stop. I used to know the feeling well. For I was a devoté of road, cross-country and track and, at the same time, obsessed with athletic facts and figures.
Yet in 1970, when I arrived as a British visiting student at Kansas University, I knew nothing of its superb athletic history. This may seem strange to American readers. Big universities and star athletes go together, don’t they? Well, no. At least, not in Britain. There, teams of students don’t perform before huge crowds in huge stadiums. Rather, they’re amateurs playing for enjoyment, not for paying spectators.
So it was that, ignorant of university stadiums and athletic scholarships, I arrived in Kansas 50 years ago, naïve and unprepared.
In the months that followed, the story emerged, piece by piece. For decades, KU had been home to a pantheon of celebrity athletes. It was the alma mater of Gale Sayers, one of the few American footballers I’d actually heard of. Likewise, Al Oerter, gold medal winner in the Men’s Discus at four consecutive Olympics. And as soon as I arrived in Lawrence, a Jan Johnson of KU set a new World Record for the Indoor Pole Vault.
Wilt Chamberlain was a KU man – and arguably the most famous player in basketball history. (Years after my Kansas time, in 1999, I remember a fresh-faced TV newsreader announcing Chamberlain’s death. He shook his head in theatrical disbelief at the unforgettable man’s skill – but referred to him time and time again as Walt Chamberlain. Disgusted by this faux-pas, I boycotted CNN for weeks to come.)
In that long-ago time at KU, I was hugely impressed by the pantheon of great runners nurtured there over the years. Among the best of them was Glenn Cunningham, holder of the World One Mile Record and silver medallist at the 1936 Olympics. Billy Mills of Haskell Indian Junior College (as I think it was known) was a KU man too. He won the 10.000 metres in the Tokyo Olympics of 1964. KU’s Wes Santee of KU was holder of the World 1500metres Record. In a state of hero-worship bordering on lunacy, I’ve kept a signed letter Santee sent me offering me car insurance. (I had no car.)
But, back then, the athlete who made the strongest mark on me was Jim Ryun. Before I ever set foot in Lawrence, he was the one KU star I could confidently name. For hadn’t he appeared time and again in the blue vest of Kansas on spectacular cover pictures of Sports Illustrated? And didn’t all athletes – in the United States and beyond -- know the man’s sensational world records in the middle distances?
It was at the Kansas Relays that I first saw Ryun. Launched in 1923, the Relays are an annual festival of superb track-and field events. I was a privileged spectator for three years running – and so enthralled that today, half a century later, the events have coalesced into a wonderful dream.
For me, the pinnacle was the blue ribbon One Mile event in the Kansas Relays of 1971. My good friend Greg Bien and I share treasure: the memory of standing side by side and watching Ryun’s breathtaking 3 minutes 55.8 seconds -- the fastest mile in the world for three years. It was an emotional moment for thousands in that packed stadium in Lawrence. It meant the reclusive, enigmatic Ryun was back, and had his sights on the summer Olympics to come.
It was a unique time. Given the psychedelic ethos of the early ’70, it was a slightly crazy one too. I remember KU’s leading decathlon man – ranked No. 3 in the world – seriously avowing that Woodstock Nation would win more Olympic medals than the United States. Yes, indeed, a unique time …
Oh, a postscript on Jim Ryun.
He lived in Lawrence for part of my sojourn there. But, despite our proximity, I never met the man.
In my last weeks, though, I came close to doing so. I was driving on a two-lane road west of the town when he suddenly appeared. He was in vest and shorts, running towards me over the crest of a hill. And he looked exhausted.
Edging onto the grass shoulder to let me pass, he stopped briefly, hands resting on knees. This tiny action brought me into instant harmony with the man as nothing else could. It was a feeling I remembered well.
It’s so nice when you stop …
And a postscript on the Kansas Relays.
Sadly, the corona crisis has disrupted the Relays for a year or two. But the time will surely come when they will be staged again. Meanwhile, to get the authoritative story, visit:
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