(Pic: Perth1958)

By Len Johnson

For those of you who think thunderclap performances started with Usain Bolt, meet Herb Elliott.

Fifty years ago on Monday, Herbert James Elliott of Australia won the Rome Olympic 1500 metres in a world record three minutes 35.6 seconds. A paralysing burst along the back-straight with 700 metres to go left his rivals literally gasping for breath. His winning margin was a massive 2.8 seconds. The only greater margin in Olympic history was Kip Keino over Jim Ryun in 1968, in the special circumstances of Mexico City’s 2000 metres-plus altitude and with the pacing assistance of teammate, Ben Jipcho.

Winning an Olympic gold medal is a rare achievement, an Australian male winning one in an Olympic running event an even rarer one. An Australian male winning an Olympic running event in a world record was, and still is, almost unheard of.

In Australian Olympic terms then, Herb Elliott’s was the ultimate achievement. Ralph Doubell’s gold medal in the 800 metres in Mexico in equal-world record time comes close to matching it in athletic  terms; given the external pressures, Cathy Freeman’s gold medal in the Sydney 2000 Olympic 400 metres is also comparable.

In winning the men’s Olympic 1500 metres in world record time, Elliott matched the feat of New Zealand’s Jack Lovelock in 1936. [Two others _ Charles Bennett (GB/1900) and James Lightbody (USA/1904) _ did it back in the days when there were no official world records and the Olympics were nowhere near as competitive.]

So Elliott’s 3:35.6 was every bit as astounding in 1960 Rome as Usain Bolt’s 9.69 and 19.30 in Beijing two years ago. The similarities don’t end there: Elliott was 22 when he stunned the world; Bolt celebrated his 22^nd birthday in between his 100 and 200-metre triumphs in Beijing. Elliott didn’t just beat his opposition, he pulverised them. Bolt likewise enjoyed huge margins of victory.

Unlike the Jamaican sprint superstar, however, Herb Elliott had stamped his authority on his rivals two years before Rome. Co-incidentally, the 2008 Olympic Games opened two days after the 50^th anniversary of another famous Elliott run _ his 3:54.5 world record for the mile in Dublin on 6 August, 1958.

Elliott had a fabulous 1958, beginning with breaking four minutes for the mile for the first time just short of his 20^th birthday. He continued with an undefeated tour of the US west coast, an 880 yards-mile double at the British Empire Games in Cardiff, and world records at both the mile and the 1500 in Europe after the Games.

The mile world record was given almost as much publicity as Elliott’s Olympic victory would be two years later. I vividly recall reading a detailed account of his race splashed across the front page of Melbourne’s evening newspaper, The Herald, complete with a page-wide photo of the finish. Harry Gordon, now the official Australian Olympic historian, reported the race.

That performance took 3.5 seconds off the official world record (still held by John Landy) and 2.7 off the mark set by Britain’s Derek Ibbotson. Second-placed Merv Lincoln ran 3:55.9, about as close as anyone got to Elliott in a big race.

In the 1500, Elliott ran 3:36.0 to beat the previous world record holder, Stanislaw Jungwirth, by three seconds and his record by 2.1.

Elliott retired soon after Rome and has the unique distinction of being undefeated at a mile or 1500 metres as a senior (his one loss ever at either distance, came in a handicap race at school).

Australians, it often seems, prefer ‘larrikin’ heroes _ or perhaps it’s just that most of our heroes either fit that description, or are downright flawed. Think of Dawn Fraser, John Newcombe and Shane Warne, for example. Perfection seems a little anodyne to the average Aussie sports fan.

With his unblemished record, Elliott could have been seen this way. Yet other elements of his character fit snugly with the national psyche. He trained over the dunes at Portsea, linking him with the beach, a quintessential part of the Australian character. This image wasn’t harmed by the true story of him once rescuing his coach, Percy Cerutty, from the raging surf.

Though Cerutty espoused a Stotan _ part Stoic, part Spartan _ creed, and advanced what were then radical dietary notions, Elliott was not beyond the occasional cigarette and drink, another example of the common touch.

One such indulgence came when Elliott and his great rival Merv Lincoln were on the way to Brisbane for a race. Elliott was relaxed, downing a beer and even smoking a couple of cigarettes on the flight. “I’ve got the blighter this time,” Lincoln thought as he led in the final lap off a solid pace, but Elliott burst past to win easily, 3:58.9 to 4:04.8.

Lincoln was devastated. He thought at that stage he was fitter and definitely better prepared, but still he was beaten, and decisively. “I think I lost a bit of fight after that one,” he said years later.

 Elliott’s early retirement, almost universally regarded as premature, sparked great debate as to whether the world saw his best. Some had no doubt _ “he obviously never reached his potential” _ wrote Cordner Nelson and Roberto Quercetani in their middle-distance history, The Milers. Others speculate on how Elliott would have gone against successors Peter Snell, the 1964 Olympic champion, Ryun and Keino.

Elliott has never been swayed. His approach was intense, and the intensity only lasted so long. “The balance changed,” he told me in an interview late in the 1980s. “I can’t redress that. There were other things to do. Running was just a short, deep experience in my life.”

I suppose the one unknown is what might have happened had Elliott not won in 1960. Would he then have continued, which was the response of Roger Bannister, John Landy and Wes Santee to their disappointments at the 1952 Helsinki Games.

We’ll never know. What we do know, is that if running was a short, deep experience in Herb Elliott’s life, we were privileged to witness it.