The picture series are frozen both in time and in memory. The scene unfolds from the 1984 Summer Olympics in Los Angeles. Two runners, one American, the other from South Africa, although of British descent. The starter’s pistol fires and around the track the runners race for the finishing line. The constituents of the race were eight in number, but the world was watching only two. One Mary Decker Tabb, an American, and Zola Budd, a bare-footed runner, from South Africa. They had developed one of the most intense rivalries of any two runners since the days of the Grecians. Each wanted to defeat the other, because this time it was for the Gold Medal.
Shoulder to shoulder they ran the first one thousand meters, apparently sizing up the one another, preparing for the strategic moment that they would send a burst of speed toward the finishing mark. Over half way around the track, Tabb and Budd bumped just enough to disturb the balance of Tabb. In the jumble of runners, Tabb stumbled and fell to the infield grass, clutching a pulled hamstring. The close-up picture of her face was a myriad of emotions. There was pain, anguish, rage, and defeat all summed up in that single instant. She never got up until the trainers reached her. From that point on in her career, there was that seemingly defeatist psychological tainting that never allowed her to rise above her circumstances.
Back in time further, a little over sixty-five years ago, we meet another runner. The world has been warily watching the Germans, who are beginning to push their political ideas in the European regions. But it is during this historical time that we find a second runner. A man named Eric Liddell. He too, was involved in a
...