Derek Redmond and the meaning of the Olympics

NOTE: I began working on this post the day before the opening ceremonies of the Beijing Olympics. I kept working on it through the Beijing Olympics--and beyond. Then I hit the wall as to blogging. The Democratic primary season had exhausted me, and the prospect of blogging through the general election campaign sent me into full burnout mode. As I mentioned back in August, I feel this story is timeless. And maybe, in this time of transition and, for some, uncertainty, this story will have meaning.

I have never met Derek Redmond, and I am not claiming that I know what he was thinking or feeling. If any part of this post misrepresents him in any way, I apologize to him.

With that in mind...

I love the Olympics.

My love of the Olympics began when I was six years old watching the track and field events of the Mexico City games of 1968, and it has never diminished.

There are those who think the Olympics are irrelevant and/or unnecessary. For sure, there are myriad problems with the Olympics–and there likely always will be. However, I feel that the Olympics serve a tremendous, overarching purpose.

I have previously described what was for me a tremendous Olympic moment, namely The Miracle on Ice. However, the purpose of which I write today goes beyond what I wrote four years ago.

There are many examples showing that purpose, but for me the greatest example is Derek Redmond.

Derek Redmond's story was retold during the Beijing Olympics via a Visa advertisement. It was the ad which showed a 400 runner pulling up lame in a race and then finishing with the help of his father. While that ad told the basics of the story, there is so much more to tell.

In the event you do not want to read this telling of the story, just scroll down to the videos.

Setting the stage

Prior to the 1992 Olympics in Barcelona, the U.S. had dominated the Men’s 400 and the 4 X 400 relay. In fact, the U.S. had won 13 of the previous 18 Olympic relays. [1]

But in the summer of 1992, the 400 runners in Great Britain decided that it was time for a change. At the world championships in 1991, the British team of John Regis, Derek Redmond, Roger Black, and Kriss Akabusi had taken the gold with the then second-fastest time in history,[2] and they were determined to end American dominance in the Olympics. And they were talking about it every chance they had.

At this point, I need to explain some things about the world of track and field (known as "athletics" outside the U.S.). While other events–the 100, 1500, mile, and others–might get more attention and glory, the 4 X 400 is in reality the premier event. Here in the States, almost every track meet has the 4 X 400 as the last event. Even in the Olympics, the last events on the track are the men’s and women’s 4 X 400 relays (the last track and field event is the men’s marathon, but only 500 meters out of 26.2 miles takes place on the track). In meets where team championships are awarded, this relay often determines the champion. There is no event in track and field that has more–or as much--drama. There is no event that is more exciting. If there was a 400 race in which four runners from one team faced four runners from another team as individuals, and one team placed 1-4 and yet the "losers" then beat those "winners" in the 4 X 400 relay, the relay victors would receive the all the praise and glory and would be considered the superior athletes. That's just the way it is, and it is particularly true for big meets.

So, for the Brits to beat the Americans in the 4 X 400 at the World Championships in 1991 and be talking serious smack going into the 1992 Olympics were big deals. That constituted not only throwing down the gauntlet but picking it back up, slapping the Americans with it and then saying "What are you going to do about it?" And rest assured that this was not empty talk. The Brits absolutely had the grit and talent to win Olympic gold.

Redmond’s back story

The leader of the Brits was Derek Redmond. In 1985 he set the British record in the 400 with a time of 44.82. He was 19 years old, and big potential was before him. Redmond realized much of that potential in 1986 as part of relay teams that won gold at the Commonwealth Games and European Championships. 1987 brought more success as he regained the British 400 record from teammate Roger Black with a time of 44.50.[3] And then the Brits finished second to the U.S. in the 4 X 400 at the World Championships. [4] That result convinced the Brits that they could eventually overtake the Americans, and they set out on a mission to do so. That mission was accomplished at the 1991 World Championships as British 400 hurdles champion Kriss Akabusi ran a brilliant anchor leg to edge out American Antonio Pettigrew at the line to claim gold. [5]

But success for Redmond was also accompanied by struggle, especially in the form of injuries. For instance, at the Seoul Olympics in 1988, he had to withdraw minutes before the opening round of the 400 because of an injury. Some reports said the injury was a hamstring while others said it was an Achilles tendon. [6] Over the next year, he went through five surgeries. [7] By the time of the Barcelona Games, Redmond had undergone a total of eight surgeries, including operations on both Achilles tendons. [8] While the tendons had been repaired, there was one possible injury that always had hung (and always will hang) like a sword of Damocles over every sprinter–a hamstring pull.

The 1991 World Championships gold was glorious, but an even greater mission loomed, namely the 1992 Olympics. Britain had an excellent chance to win gold in the relay, and Redmond was poised to win an individual medal in the 400.

He was healthy and beyond determined. He was 26 years old and coming into the prime of his career. He felt that a silver medal and a time of 44.0 was possible in the 400. [9] He told his coach "We're going to enjoy this one. We're going to come back with something." [10]

Redmond’s 1992 Olympic experience

In the opening round of the 400, Redmond won his heat and had the fastest time heading into the quarterfinals, where he also won his heat. [11] As he explained a little over a year ago, after those two races "I was bouncing about my chances. I felt so good that I thought I could win the marathon if I had been entered. My Dad said that in winning my two heats I was a different animal." [12]

And then came the semi-finals. Redmond came out of the blocks strong, and he looked powerful, smooth, and in control entering the backstretch. I remember thinking as I watched the race that he was easily going to make the final.

And then the Damoclean sword fell. About 150 meters into the race, Redmond’s right hamstring pulled. For those who have never experienced a hamstring pull, allow me to describe it. First you feel a pop in the back of your leg. There is a slight pause before the initial pain hits, and that pain is very sharp and intense. It then goes from sharp to constant and increases in intensity. And then your leg simply ceases to function. There is no recovery. There is no respite. You can neither extend your leg fully nor bring your lower leg back–at all. Your leg becomes useless, and any attempt immediately brings back the sharp pain. Generally after a hamstring pull, you shoot up and somehow maintain your balance and hop on one leg and then collapse to the ground once you stop moving. And that’s just what Redmond did.

I immediately knew what had happened to Redmond, and I gasped. To see that his Olympic dream had been taken from him–again–broke my heart. Realize that in that moment not only did Redmond’s individual dream end. Britain’s dream of winning gold in the 4 X 400 also disappeared, for there was no way, as good as the other team members were, they could beat the Americans without Redmond.

And then the amazing things started. Redmond, his face twisted in physical pain and emotional anguish, got up and starting hopping on one leg in his lane. I realized that he damn well intended to finish the race, and I started cheering out loud. Officials tried to stop him, but he pushed them away. I began cheering louder. A medical crew came on the track with a stretcher, but Redmond told them "No, there's no way I'm getting on that stretcher. I'm going to finish my race." [13]

Redmond has said that "It was all animal instinct. I kept thinking I could still catch the other runners. I didn't want to quit. I'm a very selfish person." [14] I didn’t think it selfish at the time, and I still don’t. And apparently the 70,000 spectators in the stadium did not think so either, as they began cheering for Redmond as well. Redmond also said that "I wasn't doing it for the crowd. I was doing it for me. Whether people thought I was an idiot or a hero, I wanted to finish the race. I'm the one who has to live with it." [15]

Perhaps I am wrong about Redmond not being selfish. I am, after all, biased, because I would have tried to do the same thing. As a result, what I saw was extraordinary courage and determination. What I saw was a desire not for glory, but to finish what he had worked so hard for. What I saw was a valiant refusal to give up or give in. And that is why I started cheering even louder.

Then I saw another person run onto the track and grab Redmond. I thought it was another official, and I started yelling at the TV for the man to leave Redmond alone. It was then that the announcers identified the man as Jim Redmond, Derek’s father. Redmond described that moment as follows: "Everything I had worked for was finished. I hated everybody. I hated the world. I hated hamstrings. I hated it all. I felt so bitter that I was injured again. I told myself I had to finish. I kept hopping round. Then, with 100 metres to go, I felt a hand on my shoulder. It was my old man." [16]

I became silent as I witnessed what ensued.

At this point, I think best to watch the entire event as it happened. I found plenty of videos on You Tube, and you can watch two of them here. The first one shows the entire event without commentary but with musical accompaniment. You can mute the music if you wish, for the video alone sufficiently presents the story. The second video also has music, but I advise not muting the audio because there is some commentary by Derek Redmond.








Jim Redmond was Derek's biggest fan, biggest supporter, and best friend. Jim went to every major competition Derek had. Jim had worked hard at his own machine shop to pay for Derek’s training, and because of all that support and love Derek dedicated his 1992 Olympic efforts to his father. [17]

Before the 400 semis began, Jim Redmond took a seat at the top of the stadium. Here’s how Rick Weinberg described Jim’s reaction once the injury occurred:

"Oh, no," Jim says to himself. His face pales. His leg quivering, Redmond begins hopping on one leg, then slows down and falls to the track. As he lays on the track, clutching his right hamstring, a medical personnel unit runs toward him. At the same time, Jim Redmond, seeing his son in trouble, races down from the top row of the stands, sidestepping people, bumping into others. He has no credential to be on the track, but all he thinks about is getting to his son, to help him up. "I wasn't going to be stopped by anyone," he later tells the media. [18]

By the time Jim got to his son, Derek had finally accepted that he was not advancing to the final and that in fact his Olympics were over. [19] When Derek first felt that “hand on my shoulder,” he was probably thinking it was another official trying to stop him, and he tried to push his father away.

However, Derek quickly realized that it was his father by his side. Jim said, "You don't have to do this. You don't have to put yourself through this." [20] This was Derek’s reaction as he described it to Lee Honeyball:

It was the last thing I was expecting. When my dad told me I didn't need to do this, I told him just to help me get back into my correct lane. In that case, he said, we would finish the race together. He says he didn't think it was the time or the place for a domestic dispute, so he did what I wanted. It never occurred to me that the crowd would react to what was going on as they did. I was oblivious to everything except trying to finish. [21]

Father and son started forward with Derek hopping and Jim jogging alongside, with his right hand around Derek’s waist and his left hand supporting Derek’s left arm. After about 30 meters, Derek slowed, then stopped, then put his left arm around his father’s shoulders because he he needed the physical support. And then Derek broke out in tears and buried his face in Jim’s neck. And for reasons I will explain later, this sequence is what moved me and impressed me the most.

The two Redmonds then continued down the home stretch, this time at a walk. Amazingly, more officials attempted to get them off the track. Unlike the first time, Derek did not have to fight them off, for Jim made damn sure that his boy was going to be allowed to finish the race.

And then, at last, Derek Redmond crossed the finish line.

Afterwards, Jim Redmond said, "I'm the proudest father alive. I'm prouder of him than I would have been if he had won the gold medal. It took a lot of guts for him to do what he did." [22] Indeed, it did take a lot of guts, and that is what I will now address.

What Derek--and Jim--Redmond showed us all

Derek Redmond showed the utmost in determination and courage--first by fighting through disappointment in 1988, injuries, and surgeries to make it to the 1992 Olympics, then by winning two heats, and then by getting up to try to finish his semi-final heat. All of that took a lot of guts. That is obvious.

However, I feel that other actions by Redmond that day showed an even greater depth and breadth of guts. When he began crying on his father's shoulder, Derek Redmond laid bare his vulnerability and admitted that in that moment he needed help. Derek Redmond was the living definition of a tough guy--someone who walked the walk and definitely talked the talk, all while never even hinting that he had any weakness. In my view, that is part of the reason why he was able to overcome all the adversity to get to the 400 semis in 1992. And in that one moment with his father, all the "tough guy" characteristics went away. No longer could Redmond show that solely on his own he could beat any obstacle. And Redmond did this in front of almost the entire world. That, folks, took guts.

Perhaps one could argue that Derek had no choice in this matter, that the enormity of the situation simply overcame him. Even if that is true, what followed next was, as far as I am concerned, his choice. He could have told his father that he did not want any help, that he was going to cross the finish line on his own. In spite of everything that had happened, I still feel that Redmond could have crossed the line on his own--even if he would have had to crawl. But he did not do that. Instead, he allowed his father to help him.

Admitting to oneself, much less the entire world, that you need help can be difficult, but I find it is often even harder to accept help. Pride, fear, embarrassment, and a host of other factors can keep any of us from accepting help. There are some times at which great strength and courage are needed to overcome those factors. In that moment of seeming weakness and defeat, Derek Redmond found and displayed such strength and courage. But there is even more that made this moment amazing.

...and that brings us to Jim Redmond. What he did was nothing short of manifesting the utmost love a father could give his son. He could have stayed in the stands. He could have stopped when officials tried to keep him off the track. He could have insisted that Derek stop. He could have been over protective. However, he did none of that. He never hesitated. He went to his son to offer no less--and no more--than unconditional support and assistance. He allowed his son to decide what he would do and how it would be done.

And in return, Derek showed tremendous love for his father--the man who had worked hard and sacrificed so that he could pursue his dreams; the man who had been his best friend and biggest fan. Derek could have been stubborn and selfish by pushing his father away, but instead he chose to completely let his father into his life and accomplish something together.

By simply getting to the 400 semis in the 1992 Olympics, Derek Redmond showed that the human spirit can overcome great adversity to achieve success. What happened in that race showed so much more. For me, Derek and Jim Redmond showed us what I consider to be paradoxical truths: that in weakness there can be strength and that from tragedy can emerge triumph. And they showed us how to love others.

In sum, on that day, in those few minutes, Derek and Jim Redmond showed us what it is to be human.

Writing all of this has been a challenge for me because I have felt--and still feel--like I cannot adequately articulate what all of this means to me. At the risk of exposing my own hubris, that almost never happens to me. So, whether it be to be serve me a dose of humility or to better describe this event, please feel free to express your own thoughts.

[1]http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Athletics_at_the_1992_Summer_Olympics_-_Men's_4_x_400_metre_relay

[2] http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Derek_Redmond

[3] Id.

[4] http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/1987_World_Championships_in_Athletics

[5]http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/1991_World_Championships_in_Athletics_-_Men's_4_x_400_metres_relay

[6] Filip Bondy, "British Runner Is a Hero Even Without a Medal," New York Times, August 5, 1992; Rick Weinberg, "Derek and dad finish Olympic 400 together," ESPN.com; http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Derek_Redmond.

[7] Rick Weinberg, "Derek and dad finish Olympic 400 together."

[8] Lee Honeyball, "I hated the world. Then I felt a hand on my shoulder," The Observer, January 7, 2007.

[9] Filip Bondy, "British Runner Is a Hero Even Without a Medal."

[10] Id.

[11] http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Derek_Redmond

[12] Lee Honeyball, "I hated the world. Then I felt a hand on my shoulder."

[13] Rick Weinberg, "Derek and dad finish Olympic 400 together."

[14] Lee Honeyball, "I hated the world. Then I felt a hand on my shoulder."

[15] Rick Weinberg, "Derek and dad finish Olympic 400 together."

[16] Lee Honeyball, "I hated the world. Then I felt a hand on my shoulder."

[17] Filip Bondy, "British Runner Is a Hero Even Without a Medal."

[18] Rick Weinberg, "Derek and dad finish Olympic 400 together."

[19] Lee Honeyball, "I hated the world. Then I felt a hand on my shoulder."

[20] Filip Bondy, "British Runner Is a Hero Even Without a Medal."

[21] Lee Honeyball, "I hated the world. Then I felt a hand on my shoulder."

[22] Rick Weinberg, "Derek and dad finish Olympic 400 together."