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"How good is Chris Stewart compared with Mel Batty?"
I was surprised by the question; not by the content but by the timing.
We had been in Ninove, Belgium since the previous evening. The race
programs had been printed and distributed. The programs included our
CVs which the Belgians had modified suitably to make more impressive
reading. The press had been briefed. Now with less than ninety minutes
to go before the start of the big race a race official were asking about
the capabilities of our star runner.
If the organisers had really wanted to know they would have asked before.
Why hadn't they? My theory had been that they didn't want to know. They
thought that we were so weak that we were going to be thrashed. There
might be embarassing questions asked by the sponsors. If they didn't
know quite how bad we were then they could plead ignorance.
Chris Stewart, Roger Mathews, Jim Roger, Roger Brown and myself were
running for Bournemouth who were England's representatives in the race.
In the mid nineteen sixties, Belgium, France and England were the top
countries in Europe for cross-country running. Belgium was not used
to being top in any sport so cross-country running received a much higher
profile there than it did in England. The race was being televised,
almost unheard of for an English cross-country race. Mel Batty was the
English champion and the yardstick by which all British runners were
measured. He was well known and popular in Belgium and was going to
be running in the race as an individual entry. We were taking on the
top twenty five Belgian sides in the team race. Our qualifications for
this role were simple. Bournemouth was in England and we were available.
Portsmouth, the English team champions, were meant to be running but
had dropped out and we were last minute replacements. Portsmouth's weakest
runner was a current English international. Our best runner, Chris Stewart,
was the only runner we had with any sort of reputation and it was clear
not only that the Belgians had never heard of him but also that they
thought our claim that he held the European Junior (under nineteen)
record for the ten thousand metres was an invention.
The fact that we used the morning to go sight-seeing just confirmed
their belief that we were here for a weekend away and that the race
was incidental for us. The cross-country shoes that we used for walking
the course in advance just showed them what novices we were. English
cross-country courses would cover a variety of terrain including hills,
ploughed field, thick mud and road. I would always arrive at a race
with four different pairs of shoes and choose my racing pair depending
upon the conditions. Belgian cross country courses were all parkland
and the Belgian runners had all turned up with spiked running shoes
as their only race shoes. I think the Belgians would have worn spikes
in a road race.
To say that we had achieved nothing significant as a team before would
be exagerating our previous success. That would imply we had won something
insignificant. We had never raced together as a team. I personally had
finished 324th in the English championships. None of the other team
members had even run in them. Yet here we were taking on the cream of
Belgium's runners.
However we weren't here just for the trip. We knew that this was our
big change and we were determined to take it. The fast short (seven
and a half kilometers) Belgian course was far more suited to Chris's
style than the heavy English courses. While Chris had not yet made an
impact in the senior ranks this was just the opportunity he needed.
He should be up with the best of the Belgian runners.
"I think Chris Stewart will beat Mel Batty today."
If I had said that Chris Stewart would grow wings and fly I doubt if
I would have got a more astonished reaction.
"You think Chris Stewart will beat Mel Batty!"
I nodded.
The Belgian official turned to Roger Brown who was sitting next to me
and repeated the question. Roger nodded too in confirmation. Whatever
our weaknesses as a team, lack of self belief was not one of them.
The man turned and ran out of the café almost knocking over Jim
Roger as he did so. Jim was given the same question and gave the same
answer. It was clearly a surprise that we were serious runners; well
at least one of us was. However even if our optimistism were proved
right that would not be enough. We were here for the team race and we
all had to turn in the best runs of our lives to avoid a humiliating
defeat.
I very nearly missed the race. I turned up twenty minutes before the
race was due to start to find that the program was running twenty minutes
early. No time to warm up; no time to get nervous. I went straight to
the start and we were off. The distance was shorter than I was used
to so I had expected a faster pace than usual but not this fast! I was
only in the middle of the 150 runners but I had never run as fast in
a cross-country race before. The topography of the course enabled me
to get a quick view of the leaders after 400 metres and Chris was with
them. Roger Mathews was there too. The other two team members were somewhere
behind me. From then on my concentration was such that I saw no runners
other then the two or three immediately in front of me. The crowd was
not like a football crowd where all you got was a roar. There was a
background noise but you could also pick out individual words said by
people as you passed them. However as the language was mostly Flemish
it meant little to me. Having a crowd at all was a novelty. The only
spectators you got at major British cross-country events were relatives
or bemused individuals caught out walking their dogs.
The course consisted of five laps of 1500 metres a lap. The fast pace
lasted for the whole of the first lap after which the runners began
to ease off. My legs however, had got into a rhythm and refused to slow
down. Steadily I began to work up through the field. The path was twisting
and frequently narrow and overtaking opportunities were limited. I made
small adjustments to my pace to make sure that I always caught a runner
at a point where I could pass him and avoided catching anyone just before
the frequent bottlenecks. While my chest was pounding and my legs aching
I was improving my position every 100 metres or so.
On the penultimate lap I at last heard my own name on the lips of some
of the crowd. Then half way round the last lap I could see the crowd
arching in a Mexican wave as they watched the progress of the man who
was now the next one for me to overtake. Then I made out the names "Batty
and Shepherd" being spoken in the same breath. Either I was having
a blinder or Mel Batty was having an off day. In the event it was a
bit of both.
Belgian runners filled the first three places. However not only did
Chris Stewart beat Mel Batty but Roger Mathews and I did as well. In
the team race judged on the aggregate places of all the team members
Bournemouth finished second just behind one of the local Belgian sides.
Second place is an unfairly denigrated position. Finishing a close second
in a foreign event gains you far more popularity than would be achieved
by winning. Before the end of the day we had received an invitation
to run as a team elsewhere in Belgium a fortnight later - this time
on our own merits. That wasn't the end of our achievements that day.
Later in the evening we each got presented with a beer mug by a local
publican for entertaining the locals with our rendition of "On
Ilkley Moor bar t'at". It is the only time in my life I have received
an award for my singing.
For the next few years the Bournemouth team ran frequently in Belgium
and in France with considerable success. Paradoxically Bournemouth never
achieved any significant success at cross-country running in England.
Though overshadowed by his namesake, Ian, Chris Stewart enjoyed a long
and successful career including a victory in the AAA championships and
a famous second place in a Swedish 5,000 metre race splitting Australia's
Ron Clarke and Kenya's Kip Keino. Roger Mathews went on to gain fourth
place in the 10,000 metres in the 1970 Commonwealth Games. Roger Brown
was selected to run for England in the European cross-country championships.
I never saw Jim Roger again. Judging from the way he drove us all back
from Ninove through a blizzard in his Mini Cooper, there was a promising
future for him as a rally driver.
As for myself, I made the final trial for the 1968 Olympics but not
with any realistic chance of making the team. Having discovered the
opposite sex and finding that relationships did not mix well with three
training sessions a day, my running gradually deteriorated. I still
run now but if you ever see me shuffling through the streets you wouldn't
believe that one day I beat the English champion.
John Shepherd