Theirs is the will to win which ultimately dominates. They may or may not play for money, medals or records. Victory is the supreme goal, and its dedicated quest sets them apart from Everyman. Last week, Everyman could recognize a little of this in President Eisenhower's exuberant snap decision to play an extra nine holes—just to beat George E. Allen. More clearly, he could see it in the attitudes of supermen who claim success as a right: Dale Long, setting a major league record with seven homers in as many straight games; Mickey Mantle, going five for five and hitting No. 17; Althea Gibson, breaking a jinx to win her seventh consecutive tournament in France; and certainly in almost every thought and action of a young man from New Jersey named David William Sime. Mel Patton runs no more, but track lovers still listen with something akin to awe whenever he talks about those explosively short races in which he once ran faster than man had ever gone before, set two world records and won an Olympic championship. Thus great interest, as well as respect, greeted Patton's prediction a few days ago that his 9.3-second world record for 100 yards (which he set in 1948 and which has since been equaled but never bettered) would not last long. He went further: someone would gain the sprinter's Holy Grail. "I definitely think," he said, "that the nine-second 100 will come about pretty soon." Patton even painted a word portrait of this Lancelot in short pants: "He'll have to be six feet tall or better and weigh around 185 pounds; a long-legged fellow who likes to run and is willing to work." It was an interesting picture, but not necessarily one which would qualify Mel Patton as a prophet; he could just as easily have added that the young man in question would be red-haired, wear size 11 shoes, play the trumpet and have an affinity for pizza pie. For the truth is that Mel Patton had peeked. He had seen Dave Sime run. David William Sime (who because of an old Scottish ancestor pronounces his name to rhyme with dim instead of dime) has only to look in a mirror to find himself gazing upon an almost exact replica of Patton's picture (see cut). He also has long legs and a great love of running. And probably no sprinter in history—not even Patton himself—ever possessed such a fierce desire to achieve perfection through hard work. As for the magic goal of nine seconds—and other predictions that he will soon become the first runner to go under 20 seconds for the 220—Dave Sime remains supremely aloof. The 19-year-old from Duke University and Fair Lawn, N.J., is less interested in the impersonal numbers on a stop watch than in the personal satisfaction of beating anybody in the world at any distance from 0 to 220 yards and in winning an Olympic gold medal. In fact, he wants to win two. If this can be accomplished with times which are something less than earth-shaking, fine; if not—well, Dave Sime can break records, too. It is because of the records he has already broken that Sime can afford to be a bit undemonstrative now over the prospect of lowering still others. In 15 days this spring down in North Carolina, he twice equaled and twice eclipsed recognized world records in three events. At Durham on May 5 this big handsome kid with the baby face and the beautiful stride ran the 220-yard low hurdles in 22.2 seconds, which is better than Harrison Dillard or Fred Wolcott or any of the other great hurdlers of history could do in their long and distinguished careers—and Dave Sime, basically, is not a hurdler. At Durham on May 11 he ran the 220-yard dash in 20.1, better than any time ever recorded opposite the names of Mel Patton or Jesse Owens or Ralph Metcalfe or anybody else. And at Raleigh on May 19 he tied both the 100-yard mark of 9.3 and the old world record of 20.2 for the 220. Yet Dave Sime did not grow up to be a sprinter. He did not grow up to be a track man at all. He was born in Paterson, N.J. on July 25, 1936, and when David was 3 the Sime family moved down the road three miles to Fair Lawn. By the time he was 6 he was hitting baseballs in the vacant lot next door and tossing basketballs through a net hanging from the garage, ice skating, kicking footballs and discovering for himself the great truth reserved for all healthy little boys since time began: it is much more fun to run than it is to walk. So David ran. "Encourage him to compete in sports?" chuckles Charles J. Sime, who is now a night guard at the Wright Aeronautical plant in Ridgewood, N.J. but was once a semipro baseball and basketball player. "Why, I made him compete." But Dave's mother gently admonishes Mr. Sime with a "Now, Chuck," and tells you that David didn't need any pushing. All he ever thought about was sports. By the time Dave Sime was in junior high he was playing sandlot baseball with grown men. He won a Silver Skates speed skating championship at Madison Square Garden when he was 14. As a junior in high school he hit over .500; as a senior he hit in 25 consecutive games and was named center fielder on the all-state baseball team. He also played left halfback in football, frequently punted over 60 yards and once scored three touchdowns in five minutes; at season's end he made all-state and honorable mention on a high school All-America. In basketball ("I really wasn't very good, I just rebounded pretty well"), Sime averaged 15 points a game. Then came graduation—and the college and professional scouts.    
|
Stories
|
|||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
|
|
||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
PRINT
EMAIL
MOST POPULAR
SHARE
 |
Copyright © 2008 Time Inc. A Time Warner Company. All Rights Reserved.
Terms under which this service is provided to you. Read our privacy guidelines.
|
 |