A FRIENDLY’ ENDING

Press, Volume CXIV, Issue 33450, 4 February 1974, Page 1

A FRIENDLY’ ENDING

Fun and Games on last day

(By

R. T. BRITTENDEN)

Stilled are the sounds of gun and glove and gong. The howlers have packed their hags, the wrestlers and weight-lifters are off stage, the pool is a blue calm. New Zealand’s greatest sports spectacular is over.

On Saturday afternoon, before a crowd of almost 40,000. the great black scoreboard blinked out its last records of the victors and the vanquished.

Soon the empty stadium will echo to the hammers of the dismantling corps; but Christchurch can now take pride in a job very well done, and pleasure from the hundred happy memories of a great gathering of nations.

The Games ended in a vast swirl of colour, in singing and laughter. The closing ceremony became an amiable riot in which athletes cheerfully mounted the vehicles taking the Royal party on a circuit of the track. Some, perhaps, objected to such breaches of protocol. But these were often described as the “Friendly Games” and as a family gathering; whatever breaches of etiquette occurred, they were free from malice. More than comedy There was very much more than the comedy of the closing parade to make the day one to remember. There were magnificent performances by the athletes on an afternoon which began in brooding heat but which became more pleasantly warm. Filbert Bayi, of Tanzania, wrote his name boldly across every account of the Christchurch Games by setting a world record in the classic 1500 metres race. The excitement of the final tussle with John Walker, of New Zealand, was almost as much a strain op spectators as on these splendid athletes; a figure of Bayi, carved in ebony, would convey more adequately than words the involvement, the isolation of the most natural, perhaps the most exciting man-to-man competition there is. Walker, who also broke

the previous world record, was carried along by the tremendous ovation the frenzied crowd gave him in his bid for victory and his was a classic display of speed and courage and strength. Bayi was cheered and cheered as he ran his victory lap, escorted up the straight by Nyambul Mjaya, also of Tanzania, who finished eighth in the race. Earlier, an attractive, frank-faced fair-haired girl from Canada, Glenda Reiser, had run away with the women’s 1500 metres, running like a smooth little machine. But Bayi’s triumph brought the track programme to a close. Yet it was almost two hours before the closing ceremonies began. Mary Peters retires The men’s triple jump and the women’s high jump were interesting events, but they hardly provided the sort of exit lines expected. During the high jump, Marz Peters bowed out finally from international competition, and was given an affectionate farewell. The last athlete to perform was Barbara Lawton, an Aidershot clerk, married to Carl Lawton, a walker with the English team. She beat off her opponents and was left alone, with three jumps at a new height. It is a woman’s perogative to keep people waiting and IMrs Lawton exercised it, ; properly. She had, after all, come to New Zealand to compete. And she seemed quite unaware of her loneli-l ness, a single actor on a huge stage, with so vast an audience. But the delay was so pronounced that there seemed a distinct prospect of Mrs Lawton being swept away by a New Zealand Army Band ordered to advance at 200 paces to the minute to make up lost time. The closing procedure began with the massed choirs and the band of the R.N.Z.A.F. in thrilling combination. The soaring voices the verve of “Join Together” with almost the whole crowd clapping time set the mood of the last hour. There was some sort of order about the arrival of athletes, administrators and an army of Games assistants for a walk around the track, but it soon broke up into [magnificent confusion. I The bright colours of [track suits and uniforms were jumbled delightfully as groups mixed, danced along hand in hand. A couple of Australians gave a splendid imitation of the racing

walker’s peculiar gait, trim girls mounted massive shoulders for what used to be known in distant school days as cock-fighting, someone was wheeled about in a barrow, beneath a sunshade. The Army Band played on impassively as the revellers raced in and out of the ranks, the police were applauded, whether they retained their hats or had them whipped away by souvenir hunters. There were three on a bicycle. There was also some impromptu football. It started with soccer, but an Australian Rules ball was produced, Rugby reared its head. It was a shambles. Guernsey made a popular contribution, with a sixlegged, amiable-looking cow and a large placard proclaiming that “Guernsey milk is best.” When the victory hostesses marched on in close ranks, it was soon clear they could have done with protection. but they seemed to be happy victims as they were seized and borne away to join the dancing and frolicking. More nonsense For the closing of the Games by the Queen, the whole heaving mass was somehow put into reasonable order. But when the Games ceremonial flag was taken down and marched to a dais where the chairman of the Games federation (Sir Alexander Ross) waited to hand it to the Mayor of Christchurch (Mr N. G. Pickering) for safe keeping until 1978, nonsense began again. The flag party was joined by several uninvited guests, who marched along beneath lit. Their extraction and the 'folding of the flag was a deimanding business. When, in the formal phrases set down for the occasion, Sir Alexander Ross charged the care of the flag to Mr Pickering “or his successor,” there was a wave of derisive laughter: Mr Pickering thus shared the probable fate of every other mayor similarly placed. The scoreboard began to spell out messages of good will, or the words of the anthems the crowd sang to the thrilling lead of the band and choirs. When the Queen and the Duke of Edinburgh, standing in a utility vehicle, made their circuit, athletes ran beside or behind them. All harmless Then two or three jumped on board. A little further back, Princess Anne, and Captain Mark Phillips, both smiling broadly, had a heavier passenger list. The second vehicle was heavily over-crowded. But it was ail harmless, and happy. So to the enormous voice

of thousands singi.ng “Now is the Hour” and the even more moving “Auld Lang Syne" with hundreds of men and women in huge circles. Even the three cheers which follow this refrain were led, magnificently, by the choir. A sad moment, but a wonderful week. Neither minor—minute—faults nor inevitable cynicism could deny the Games their outstanding success, or the full accomplishment of their principal mission — friendly competition.

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