Mile of the Century

At the British Empire Games in Vancouver, B.C. last week, visiting Australians did their rugged best to live up to their press notices. They began well. Billed as good-natured brawlers, they touched off the first international rhubarb by filing a loud beef about the skimpy supply of good red meat at the breakfast table.

Then the Aussies slowed down. Highly favored to take the unofficial team cham pionship, they dropped into second place behind a surprisingly well-balanced squad from England. A solid third: Canada. But there was high hope in Aussie hearts. Their collective failure could be wiped out in the biggest event of the games: the "Mile of the Century." Long John Landy, their world's-record beater (3:58) was primed to run the race of his life.

No one expected Landy to have an easy time of it. He would be stepping out for the first time against the second-fastest miler in the world: England's Dr. Roger Bannister, first man in history to clock better than four minutes. And this time both men would be running without the split-second pacesetting of Chris Chata-way, B.E.G. 3-mile champion, who had paced both runners in their four-minute-breaking miles.

In Vancouver's big race, Australian Landy broke fast and was out in front by the end of the first quarter. He increased his pace, for only by getting a good lead could he hope to hold off Briton Bannister's famed finishing kick. But longjawed Roger Bannister never let him get out of reach. He dogged the Australian's strides closely and carefully, was hanging on easily when Landy passed the metric-mile post (1,500 meters) at a better-than-world's-record clip (3:41.9). There Bannister turned on his fabulous reserve power and made his move. "I looked back on the inside," said Landy. "Just then he went by me on the outside. I shifted into high gear but couldn't catch him."

Bannister had lasted just long enough. A few yards past the finish line, he collapsed, having broken four minutes again (3:58.8) and beaten the world's fastest miler in the process.

Spectacular as the mile was, for sheer drama the 26-mile marathon dominated the games. Just 20 minutes after Bannister's victory, England's Jim Peters staggered into the stadium far ahead of the long-distance pack. Suddenly his stride fell apart into an awful, staggering dance. He dropped to his knees and began to crawl up the track.

"Get up! Keep going, Jim!" shouted teammates.

"Stop him. Take him off," growled the crowd. Police pushed back spectators, whose efforts to help might have disqualified Peters. The English team broke into a singsong chant: "James Henry Peters . . . James Henry Peters . . . Get up, Jim!" Time after time, Jim collapsed, writhed in the cinders, then painfully pushed himself up again. The finish line was far around the curve of the track, nearly 400 yds. away. But, incredibly, both crowd and team mistook a nearer line for the finish, thought Peters had less than 100 yds. to go. One last time, Peters roused himself, went weaving along, half-conscious. For a few wonderful moments, the crowd thought he had done the impossible. Jim Peters was being carried off the track on a stretcher when offi cials announced: "The finish line is at the east side ... 220 yds. further." Fifteen minutes later, Scotland's Joe Mc-Ghee trotted in to win the race.

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