BELL LAP #35

TRACK AND FIELD WORTH REMEMBERING (January 10, 2001)

When the problems facing track and field are listed, poor spectator interest is always near the top of the list. Sparse turnouts at major meets are often contrasted with the golden age--somewhere back in the 60s and 70s--when fans flocked to track and field meets in droves. The good old days...

Funny, though, I don't remember it that way. The typical track meet of that era was as pitifully supported as the typical track meet of today. It's tough to fill a football stadium, to be sure, which is where most meets have always been held. And since there were few opportunities for women to compete in the 60s and 70s, the stands might even have been more empty then than now. After all, an athlete waiting to compete is one spectator, and whatever family or friends she's convinced to watch are a couple more. So using track and field math, the more competitors, the more spectators. With gender equity, we must have twice as many spectators now.

Okay, that's stretching it. But to reiterate, I distinctly remember being upset during the supposed golden age because track meets in the U.S. couldn't attract enough spectators to keep a beer man busy. There were a few stunning bright spots, like Russian-American meets contested during the height of the Cold War, a few of the big relay meets (mostly the ones that are still successful), and any meet held in Eugene, Oregon. Otherwise, spectator interest was bleak, stadiums vacant.

The exception, though, was indoor track. Through some unusual confluence of factors, there was a boom of major indoor meets. And in my experience, the thriving west coast circuit looked and felt exactly like big-time sport.

For a runner used to sloshing through muddy cross-country courses or looping outdoor tracks while the wind whistled through empty stands, the indoor track circuit of that era was a jolt. Meets were held in civic arenas, the same venues where professional basketball teams battled and the Beatles performed. The stands were filled--virtually NO empty seats. The fans were right there, close enough to the track to shout in our ears.

There was a dangerous, gladiatorial air to the evening. Sprinters nearly crashed into the wall past the finish line. Pole vaulters threatened to catapult themselves into the rafters. Shot putters hurled their weapons perilously close to officials. And runners, challenged by tight ovals, seemed ready to launch themselves into the third row at every turn.

Spectators could see it all, smell the analgesic, feel the tension before each firing of the starting pistol, and hear the grunts, wheezes and emotional outbursts. Kids could lean over the railing and get an autograph from a world record holder. The best track and field athletes in the world were an arm's length away.

As competitors, we warmed up in the hallways, stretched in the tunnels, and finally entered the main arena, stomachs numb, a few minutes before our event was scheduled to start. Jogging onto the track, we enjoyed cheers, popping flashbulbs, and a moment in the limelight. If we screwed up, everyone noticed.

Those were, truly, the good old days. Today, indoor track is mostly an activity limited to college field houses, and the whole enterprise seems more a way to avoid inclement weather than an opportunity to showcase the sport.

A few of the big-time indoor meets remain, though. If you can find one held in a major arena with packed seats, don't miss it. Take a non-track-fan friend along too. That way, you won't have to explain ever again why you enjoy track and field.