by Max Howell
“You look beautiful, Faith,” Mark said simply. “The dress brings out all your wonderful qualities. You are the most gorgeous girl that I have ever set eyes upon.”
“I am no longer a girl, Mark,” Faith said simply, “I am a woman. The feelings I have for you are not those of a young girl. They are deep, everlasting, and they are very mature.”
“Of course, Faith,” Mark replied, “I guess I don’t see you as a girl anymore either. To me, you are a woman, and a beautiful one at that.”
“Thanks, Mark,” she said, “I just wanted you to know the depth of my feelings, and I had so hoped that you had not changed.”
“I will never change, Faith, our love is eternal.”
“It is the same with me, Mark,” said Faith, her heart pounding as their bodies came together.
“By the way,” said Mark, “here are your tickets to every swimming event, and to the Opening Ceremony to-morrow night, and a pass to get you into the Village to-morrow. We will be able to have lunch together at 1 o’clock. I will be back in the Village from training about 12.30, and will meet you at the gates at 1. Is that all right, Faith?”
“It is wonderful, Mark, more than I could ever expect.”
They held hands and talked incessantly until they arrived at Faith’s auntie’s home. No sooner had the car arrived than her auntie and uncle were out of the house to greet her.
Her uncle Rex said, “Come on in, Mark, and have a cup of tea.”
“Thanks, Mr Coventry,” Mark replied, “but I promised my coach and Forbes Carlile that I would not be more than two hours, and I was at the station early so I would not miss Faith. So I am sorry, but I have to leave. I will see you to-morrow at one o’clock at the Village, Faith.” He walked forward and kissed her.
As he drove back to the Village he could still sense the warmth of her body against his. Her lips were so soft to kiss, he thought, and he liked how she closed her eyes as he kissed her. When he got to the Village he went to see Forbes Carlile and thanked him for all his help, and then went to bed, thinking of his loved one, now knowing she was close at hand. To-morrow, he thought, will be my final training session, then lunch with Faith and the Opening Ceremonies in the evening. The next day are the heats of the 100 metres. It is then, he realised, that his destiny would start to unfold.
The following day was the last day of training at 9 o’clock, and after warming up Terry had him do 30 repeat 20 metre swims with 30 seconds rest between sprints, and he practiced the tumble turn 40 times. He felt good and strong.
When he got back to the Village he showered, and then dressed in his Australian track suit. He did not have to wait long, as Faith was ushered into the compound. He hurried forward to meet her, and they embraced.
“Are you all right, Faith?”
“I have never been happier, Mark.”
“Come and I will show you the Village,” and he escorted her to the various buildings which housed officials and athletes.
“It is wonderful, Mark, to see all the various sweat suits and the flags of all nations flying.”
“Yes, it certainly is. I have not even heard of half the countries, and one of these days I plan to visit as many as I can.”
Then they played a guessing game. As they saw a group of athletes they tried to identify what country they were from. They were not correct very often. Then Mark took her to his cramped quarters, and introduced her to the sprint team he was living with, John Devitt, Gary Chapman and Kevin O’Halloran.
John Devitt, on meeting Faith, grinned and said: “So you are the one that keeps him awake at night.” She blushed and did not quite know what to say.
Kevin O’Halloran saw her embarrassment and interjected, “Mark has told us a lot about you. Welcome to Melbourne and the Olympic Village.”
“Thanks very much,” she stammered, “it is very nice to meet his friends”.
“Well,” said Kevin, “we really are good friends. But when we compete we are really out to beat each other. When it comes to the relay, we are all friends again. Does that make sense?”
“Yes, it does,” said Faith, “for after all every one of you would like the gold medal for an individual race, but you each get a gold for a relay.”
“Mark is a bit too fast for us,” Kevin said, “but anything can happen in a sprint event, a slow start, slipping on the wall at the turn, even a disqualification. Or each of us may pull off a superhuman performance on the day. The 100 metres is a danger event. There is no time to recover if an error occurs. If it does, friend or no friend, we will be there to capitalise on the breaks. But enough of that. Mark is certainly pleased that you could make it to the Games. He doubtless might be bearable to live with now. My mother and father have driven all the way from Perth, across the Nullabor Plain, to see me swim. They run a sheep property at Kojunup, and this to them is their holiday. But likewise I am very happy that they are here.”
“Well,” remarked Faith, warming to the young country athlete from Western Australia, “I am just so happy to be here. It exceeds all my prayers.”
After a while they left the Australian quarters, and continued their tour of the Village: the recreation area, the post office, where she mailed her parents a postcard. She had never in her life imagined anything like the Olympic restaurant. There was every kind of available food, and it was all free for the athletes and officials. Every country was catered for. She and Mark had a vegetable soup, followed by a crab salad, and chocolate ice cream. As they ate they spoke of their likes and dislikes, their hopes and their fears, their ambitions and their expectations, broadening their love through increased knowledge of the other. They had a milkshake to finish up, and then went outside and found a sheltered place where they held hands and marvelled at the continuous procession of athletes of all countries.
When it approached four o’clock in the afternoon, Mark explained that he had to go, as there was a team meeting of all Australian athletes in preparation for the Opening Ceremony. He walked her slowly to the gate, kissed her and went back to the Australian quarters. The Olympics were about to begin. It was Thursday, November 22, 1956, an historic day for Australia.
As Faith walked away, she glowed from the experience, knowing full well how privileged she was to have gone inside the Village and to be escorted by Mark, how truly fortunate she was.
Later that evening, she took her place in the stand, and carefully watched the proceedings with a growing feeling of national pride. Despite all the early criticisms, Melbourne put on a display worthy of Australia.
The Duke of Edinburgh opened the Games before 103,000 spectators. A fanfare of trumpets sounded, a 21-gun salute rang out, and 4,000 pigeons took to the sky.
The Olympic torch had come by air from Greece to Cairns, and was then carried overland by athletes running in stages until it reached Melbourne. There, in a dramatic moment, young Australian miler Ron Clarke ran into the stadium, climbed the steps and lit the Olympic Flame, which would burn throughout the Games.
What really roused her feelings of nationalism was when the teams came marching in next. Greece, as the original host country in 1896 entered the Melbourne Cricket Ground first, and then countries marched in alphabetical order. As Australia appeared in its traditional green and gold uniforms with veteran sculler Merv Wood carrying the flag, the spectators rose, cheered and clapped. Faith felt a chill run through her and searched the ranks for Mark. He, too, was looking for Faith, and finally their eyes met. She felt so very proud of Mark, and of being an Australian.
The teams lined up in the centre of the stadium behind their national flags, and then one of Australia’s most famous athletes, John Landy, came forward to give the oath for the athletes.
John was a person of rare sportsmanship. It appeared as if he would be the first to break the four-minute mile when athletes like Wes Santee, Merv Lincoln, Roger Bannister and a few others were all moving perilously close. One of the most consistent milers of all time, he was beaten to this historic occasion by Roger
Bannister, who broke four minutes at Oxford University’s Iffley Field, aided by pace setters Chris Chataway and Chris Brasher. Afterwards Landy broke four minutes, and in what was called the “Mile of the Century”, Bannister and Landy met at Empire Stadium at the British Commonwealth and Empire Games at Vancouver, British Columbia, Canada, in 1954.
In a dramatic race, Landy led from the start and appeared to have the race won, then looked to his inside rather than the outside, and Bannister surged past him and won the race in the stretch.
What was later revealed was that the night before the race, Landy was rooming at the Games headquarters, Fort Camp at the University of British Columbia, with Australian high jumper Doug Stewart, and due to the buildup of the race he could not sleep. He got up and stepped out in the fresh air, and walked on a photographer’s flash bulb. His instep was cut severely, and in the middle of the night six stitches were put into his foot. He swore everyone to secrecy, but the story leaked out many years later. Landy therefore ran the “Mile of the Century” with an injury few people could tolerate, and when he finished his running shoe was full of blood. His argument was that he did not want to make excuses.
In another incident prior to the Games, Landy was running in the Australian Championships to qualify for the Olympic team. During the early stages of the race a young Victorian runner, Ron Clarke, had a very bad fall in front of him, and appeared to be seriously injured. Landy stopped to enquire if Clarke was all right. By this time the field was 30 yards ahead, and Landy set after them, and in a sensational race caught up with the other runners and won the race. It was little wonder that he was selected out of the Australian team to present the oath.
A slow, careful, considerate and conservative man, loved by all, John Landy gave the oath in front of a hushed crowd.
As he ended there was sustained cheering. Then, the teams marched out, and the celebrations began.
The Sydney Morning Herald of November 23 described the ‘Spectacular Games Opening’:
It was the spirit, which would have delighted the heart of Baron de Coubertin, founder of the modern Games, that made the occasion an outstanding achievement in international goodwill.
The vast crowd, by its tumultuous reception to its own team, showed that even among friends blood is thicker than water.
There was also an understandable leaning towards the ‘underdog’, a trait true to the Australian character. The Hungarians received an unforgettable demonstration of sympathy. When the team, marching behind the old national flag of their country, swung into the arena, the applause gave way to a new and tremendous greeting.
It was more than a welcome. It was a tribute to this proud remnant of a revolution. It was plainly meant, and accepted as small compensation for the heartbreak of Budapest.
But the 100,000 Australians packing the stands, even if they had their favourites, were friendly towards all.”
The following day, the competitions began, including the heats of the 100 metres. Mark cruised easily to win his heat in 57.3 sec., as did M. Koga (Japan) in 57.7 sec., John Devitt (Australia) in 57.2 sec., L. Patterson (U.S.A.) in 56.8 sec. and Gary Chapman (Australia) in 57.8 sec.
As soon as he could, he went up to the stands and sat with Terry and Faith, whose seats were next to one another.
“Well,” he said, “the first test is over. Just two more to go.”
After congratulating him, Terry spoke to Mark about his races. “You swam that race well, Mark,” said Terry. “You swam it economically and under control. Most of the others were swimming flat out so they could qualify, and will be more tired than you. Judging from the times, your chief competition will come from Devitt and Chapman, though the Americans could pull a surprise. In the semis tonight I want you to get out fast over the first 50 metres, and then cruise. I do not want you to use up all your energy in the race. We are after the gold, and any little advantage will play into our hands. So after 50 metres, cruise at about 90 percent of your top speed. Only accelerate in the last 20 if you are challenged. Emphasise style and form. It will be enough to carry you through. Do you follow me?”
“I certainly do, Terry, I will follow your orders implicitly.”
Terry went on. “How do you feel, Mark? Are you ready for the next few races?”
“I feel strong and ready to go. Do not worry about me. You have prepared me to perfection, Terry, and I owe what I am to you. I can never forget what you have done, and whatever happens, you have provided me with an opportunity few people have in a lifetime. I am very grateful for that. I am out to win, and I am physically and mentally ready. Having you and Faith here gives me that extra edge. I would not like to have been here alone. You are like my second father, Terry, and you know how I feel about Faith. So do not worry. It will take a world record to beat me.”
The semi-finals that evening went according to plan. He led by a few metres at the 30 metre mark, and as he reduced his speed the field started to close. He led by a metre at the turn, but his tumble turn put him another metre ahead. As the field started to close at 80 metres, he put in a spurt and won comfortably by a metre. It was a new Olympic record, 55.7 sec. John Devitt swam a personal best to win the other semi-final in 56.4 sec., just touching out Gary Chapman in 56.9 sec.
The eight finalists were: Mark Jamieson, John Devitt, Gary Chapman, R. Hanley, L. Patterson and W. Woolsey (U.S.A.), A. Tani (Japan) and A. Eminente (France).
Two hours before the final, Mark sat in the stands again with Faith and Terry. Terry, who was much more nervous than Mark, had this to say: “Well, Mark, you just have one race to go for swimming immortality. You are swimming for yourself and your nation, and if you win you will be a national hero. You will be the best in the world. There is no holding back now. It is your moment in history, and your moment for glory. There is only one effort required, the supreme one. I want you to say good-bye to us now and go to the dressing room to mentally prepare yourself. At exactly one hour to go I want you to read this letter I am giving you. So, Mark, the best of luck.” Terry handed him the letter, and then embraced him. “May God go with you.”
He then turned to Faith, who swept into his arms. He kissed her, and then she whispered in his ear: “I love you, Mark. I wish you the very best of luck. I know you can do it.”
“Thanks, Faith, and thanks to you, Terry”, said Mark as he picked up his kit-bag and descended the stairs to the dressing room. As he walked, it occurred to him once more how lonely the athlete’s life was. Though Faith and Terry loved him, they could not swim for him. It was he who had to enter the arena, like the gladiators of old. Thousands of people were depending on him, and their expectations were a gold medal. But he, and he alone, had to perform. He did not view this as a criticism of those whose hopes rested with him, but as a stark reality of the loneliness of the athlete.
When he entered the dressing room, Mark paid no attention to the others. He lay down on a bench mentally rehearsing what he had to do, virtually repeating in his mind every stroke of the race. With an hour to go, he opened up the envelope that Terry had given him. Inside the envelope were actually two letters, one from Terry and one from Faith. He read Faith’s first.
My darling Mark,
Words cannot describe how I feel as I write this. I know what the race means to you and it means as much to me, for my life is interwoven with yours, hopefully forever. Your goals are my goals, your dreams are my dreams.
I sense how you are feeling, that many people are depending on you. But it is you, and you alone who has to do it. I know you will try to your utmost to fulfil your dreams, and that is all anyone can ask.
So race for yourself, Mark, race for your country, and race for us. I pray that you will win. But whatever happens I love you and will love you to eternity.
I wish you the very best of luck.
Love,
Faith.
He breathed deeply as he read this last note from his loved one. He folded it neatly, put it in his kit-bag, and opened Terry’s letter.
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br /> Dear Mark,
I was not certain that I would be able to say the right words to you before the race, so I figured I had better put my thoughts to paper.
All my life I have wanted to coach a champion, and the pinnacle of a coach’s career is for an athlete to win a gold medal at the Olympic Games. Few Australians have done that since 1896.
When I first recognised your potential I saw you solely as a person who could help me achieve my own goals. I was more interested in myself than you. As the time has gone on I have learned to respect you, yes, even love you, as I would the son I never had. I now want the gold medal, not for myself, but for you. I have grown to look upon you as my son.
You have done everything that I have ever asked of you. You are mentally and physically ready. There is no to-morrow. The moment of truth is here.
From the time you read this I want you to block your opponents out of your mind, and concentrate solely on the race.
Do not speak to anyone, even if they speak to you. You now need tunnel vision. The event, only the event, allow no distractions and repeat, over and over again.
I WILL WIN
I WILL SWIM FASTER THAN I EVER HAVE BEFORE
I WILL WIN FOR MYSELF
I WILL WIN FOR MY PARENTS
I WILL WIN FOR TERRY
I WILL WIN FOR FAITH
I WILL WIN FOR AUSTRALIA
I WILL WIN!
Your coach,
Terry.
He read the letter again, and repeated the phrases again and again. Some swimmers did try to talk to him, but he ignored them. It was as if he were now in another world.
He undressed slowly, taking off his track suit and shoes. He took out his Australian swim suit, and put it on. He looked into the mirror in the dressing room, and then lay on a bench for a light massage. He lay down for ten minutes, and then began loosening up, stretching his shoulders, touching his toes, going through a flexibility routine that was very familiar to him.