Bookshelf

Press, Volume CIII, Issue 30339, 15 January 1964, Page 17

Bookshelf

Lap of Honour; by Norman Harris, 160 pp. A. H. and A. W. Reed.

At a-U-too-rare intervals specialist books are published which can entertain and instruct in a wider sphere. Mr Harris has recalled and preserved 17 great moments in New Zealand athletics, yet this choicely-devised and effici-ently-presented work typifies New Zealanders in general rather than that segment of them who excel in running. jumping and throwing. A journalist-athlete, Mr Harris can not only write well but he knows what he is writing about. The professional skills he employs earning his daily bread are used to convey the intensity and pressure of events to such a degree that the heart of the reader quickens, and one chapter at a time is a meal by itself. His intimacy with his subject—‘he has done some historical research that bears

no trace of history rehashed; one thinks the man must have been there — glows from every page. One feels he is present as Stanley Lay sends his floating, golden shaft for the record javelin throw that never leached the books; one can feel the sharp air and hear the smack, smack, smack of Doug Harris’s boots in the desert plain near Waiouru where, in the moonlight, alone with his deafness, that great half-mller trained; one sits in consuming apprehension with Jim Bellwood in Auckland as he awaits the final jump of Yvette, with one chance left after two no-jumps and no trainer to encourage and advise her on the other side of the world. E. A. Phillips’s picture of Yvette Williams training on St. Clair Beach, incidentally, must be one of the finest sports shots taken; it is one of many in the book. Two or three instances of “not tying up the ends” leave one hanging, wondering, wanting to know, irritated ... In the piece about Jack Lovelock, for instance, Mr Harris rounds off his tale with the story of what happened to the oak

seedling presented to the miler at Berlin. (It -s flourishing at Timaru Boys’ High School.) Excellent. But he also titillates interest by telling us- about Lovelocks’ preview of the 1936 Olympic Mile. for LOvelock was the Games correspondent for the London “Evening News.” What we want to know is what Lovelock said about himself after the event. Each chapter is constructed so that it is a story in itself, punch line and all. And what a delightful thought to end such a collection of “greats” with a poignant vignette of the Maori lad who ran ninetyfirst in a marathon. This could have been corny; instead, it is uplifting. This is not a book for sportsmen; it is a book for New Zealanders and those interested in them. And Mr Harris is entitled to take for himself his own lap of honour. He is, by the way, aged 23. ¥ ¥ ¥ STALES of struggles x against apparently overwhelming odds, culminating with the triumph of the personality concerned, have always made good reading. The Murray Halberg story, A CLEAN PAIR OF HEELS, as told to Garth Gilmour (A. H. and A. W. Reed, 212 pp.), is no exception. It is well written, holds the interest throughout, provides plenty of track drama, interspersed with many delightfully humorous incidents, and contains many helpful suggestions for aspiring athletes. This is not only the story of a great athlete’s triumph over adversity to become the Dominion’s pioneer sub-four-minute miler, the world record over three miles, the Olympic 5000 metres champion, and the Empire Games three-mile champion twice. It is also the very personal story of a New Zealander of considerable mental determination; a basically ordinary individual who has been a school teacher, a vagabond, a worker on a golf course, a printer’s devil, a brewery chemist, and a world traveller. Gilmour’s apology in his foreword, that the book would not help one to know Murray Halberg and his philosophies as well as they ought to be known by everyone, is unnecessary. The book is complete in every respect and it is to Halberts credit that he has not resorted to any sensationalism, for he obviously must have met many persons around the world who did not impress him and witnessed the occasional unsavoury incident. “Well, it may not sell as many books, but if we can’t say something nice about a

guy, we're not going to say anything nasty either.” he told Gilmour when the book was first discussed. This attitude certainly helps the reader to gain a personal picture of the athlete. He makes no excuses for his defeats and his fear of sounding as if he was sorry for himself has led him to almost omit any reference to the football injury which 13 years ago limited him to sports requiring no arm agility. There is no finer section in the book than its introductory chapter, dealing with his disappointing performance in the final of the 1500 metres in the 1956 Melbourne Olympic Games and his decision to “have another try” after borrowing a sleeping bag from the marathon r tier, W. Richards, in Christchurch, and wandering about on the West Coast in the “lonely and endless splendour of New Zealand’s Southern Alps.” Halberg comments at length on the amateur law. The generous distribution of gifts after an international cross-country in Prague (he received a movie camera, a three-piece cut glass set, street shoes and lesser items for taking third place) “brought home to me the absurdity of the amateur law.” This early preamble is followed later in the book by a whole chapter on the matter. He suggests that athletics could be run on the same lines as professional golf. In his concluding chapters, Halberg gives useful advice to young athletes and issues an invitation to “join the brotherhood.” He nominates his “top ten” of middle distance running and places Peter Snell and Herb Elliot in first and second positions, respectively. Jim Beatty (United States) and Michel Jazy (France) are at the bottom of the list, equal tenth. A list of achievements are recorded at the back of the book, embracing a first place

in an intermediate school sports in 1948 to his Olympic triumph in the 1960-61 season. There is one obvious error. On the back of the dust cover. Halberg is attributed with winning his first international mile in Philadelphia in 1950. This was in fact the year that he was hit from behind in a crash tackle while playing Rugby and received the injury which paralysed his left arm. He was not entirely won over to athletics until after this incident. The Philadelphia mile actually took place in the 1953-54 season. However, this oversight does not in any way detract from the quality of the book. The collaboration between Halberg and the 38-year-old Gilmour, himself a Lydiardindoctrinated jogger, has undoubtedly been a success and another worthwhile contribution has been made to New Zealand literature.

Sir Donald Bradman Is one of the best qualified of any cricketer or coach to advise a youngster (or oldster if he needs it) on any of the facets of the game and in his revised edition of HOW TO PLAY CRICKET (Rigby, Ltd.; 77 pp.) his methods —which, as he stresses several times, are those he used —are most admirably set out. These methods may not necessarily suit everyone but most should be a model for the average player’s game. In addition to Bradman’s clear, concise explanations, there are 27 photographs. 15 of them in series depicting batting strokes or fielding methods and would almost constitute a coaching course in themselves. One small, rather amusing error occurs, possibly as a result-of "revision.” The inside back cover tells the reader that Bradman was knighted in 1949 by the Queen—some four years before the Coronation!