DALEY THOMPSON
Few athletic events are as demanding and exhausting as the decathlon. In two days, the competitors have to perform in ten different events, which variously test their strengths and skills, but above all test their stamina. They have to be faster, higher, and stronger than their rivals in disciplines that confer no favour on one particular body-type: a man heavily built for the shot put, for instance, is unlikely to be fleet of foot in the running events. What is required is an all-round excellence never achieved, or aspired to, by athletes who specialize in only one event or category of events, like the sprints or the throws.
The ten events are as follows: on the first day, the 100-metre sprint, the long jump, the shot put, the high jump, and the 400-metre long sprint; on the second day, the 110-metre hurdles, the discus, the pole vault, the javelin, and the 1500-metre run. It takes years of training to develop the speed, the endurance, and the strength needed, and to acquire the various skills. And it takes such a toll on the participants, both physically and mentally, that they seldom compete in a full decathlon more than once a year. To keep themselves sharp, they will sometimes enter an individual event in a track meet, often selecting the weakest of their ten events, the one that most needs working on. But for the most part, they spend their time working out and gradually priming themselves to peak in one of the major international decathlons staged at wide intervals. There is an Olympic decathlon every four years, a world championship in the middle year of each Olympiad, and an unofficial world championship for decathletes only every year in Götzis, Austria. These events are exacting enough without adding to their number.
Given the arduous years of preparation, and given the exacting nature of the competitions, it is not surprising that decathletes’ competitive careers are not as long as, say, cricketers’: by the time they have reached the elite level, they are already fully mature; and after a few more years, their bodies are starting to show the effects of age, and of constant wear and tear. So it is a tremendous feat if a decathlete is able to win, internationally, over an extended period of time. One of the most distinguished of such performers has been Daley Thompson, of England: he was Olympic champion in 1980, World champion in 1983, and again Olympic champion in 1984. He was also one of the best-liked, both by his fellow-competitors and by the public at large. Especially is he admired by any people who have ever tried their hand at more than one avocation, whether in sports or in some other field.
Whatever the field of aspiration, most men and women nowadays confine themselves to a single specialty. This was not always so. During the Renaissance, people commonly acquired several skills, the most famous example being Leonardo da Vinci. However, as time went by, the specialists took over, relegating all-rounders to the back of the bus. So it is quite rare, in modern times, to find someone of notable achievement in more than one special field. Linus Pauling, notably, won a Nobel Prize twice, for chemistry and for peace; and Bertrand Russell, besides being an eminent philosopher and mathematician, won the Nobel Prize for literature. But one has to coin an adjective, decagonal, to describe George Whalley, who led a life of ten-sided distinction — and the skills required were just as varied as those required of a decathlete.
As a scholar, Whalley was the world’s foremost expert on the marginalia of Coleridge. He also wrote admirable poetry of his own. At Queen’s University in Kingston, Ontario, he was an inspiring teacher. In nearby Toronto, he was an outstanding broadcaster, notable for ground-breaking radio versions of “If this is a man” by Primo Levi, “Let us now praise famous men” by James Agee and Walker Evans, and “Peter Abelard” by Helen Waddell. He was an accomplished pianist, especially devoted to chamber music. He was a theologian, a linguist, and a committed environmentalist. As a naval officer, he served with distinction in the Battle of the Atlantic; and in more peacable waters, afterwards, he was an accomplished yachtsman.
As if these activities were not enough, he found time to be a devoted family man, and a man of many warm friendships. And lest it be thought that a man of so many serious pursuits was also somebody solemn, it should be remarked that he possessed a great and zany sense of humour, and an elegant wit.
Accordingly, it would seem appropriate that a poem written to honour this ten-skilled man should be linked, in its superscription, to Daley Thompson.
