Dr Cliff Bertrand
“TTO,” West Indies Federation Olympian 1960, Rome
They were my heroes. I copied their style of racing. I took Keith’s speed, I emulated George’s stamina. His come from well off the pace. I ran the 100 yds: I like Keith. The 600 yds indoors like George. We were the arms of the previous generation: Herb McKenley, Leslie Laing, George Rhoden, and Arthur Wint. We were the Alpha and Omega of the now defunct West Indies Federation Olympic Team. Since all life on this earth is, itself, a “terminal condition,” our grieving should begin well before death occurs-and should go on well after the funeral service. I was impacted by them when we meet in combat to select the Olympic team in Kingston 1960. I was impacted by the news of their death on June 27. The proximity of the time sequence of occurrences. I read about their passing on the newspaper. This left me speechless, motionless, and nervous. I taught of my own immortality. I began to wonder if this Federation of athletes is on its way out. I literally broke down. The thoughts of racing together came back to as if it were yesterday. Rome: As the touring WI team took part in a series of pre-Olympic warm-up competition events prior to the opening ceremonies, athletes and the team management kept a close eye on the prizes in a bid to acclimatise the team in unfamiliar territory. The management team opted for intense daily practices with the primary emphasis on getting accustomed to the demands of the assignment. The great Herb McKenley team coach and Leo Johnson of Illinois Were constantly evaluating and analysing our team in order to determine our strengths, weaknesses and readiness for combat. In addition, the practices and competition solidified team unity, loyalty, friendship, trust in each other. The extra time the team spent together built us to be a most formidable, and fearful opponent for the opposition. It did more than just that: it created a bond of friendship that still exist. The power of sports in building lasting friendship. In the context of the West Indies Federation’s Keith Gardener, George Kerr: George would say to “pace yourself, ‘SAGA’”. Keith would say “Catch them! Dem man can run.” I began to focus. My nose was draining like a leaking pipe. The bounty towel became saturated.I said to myself: It is a good day to cry because our faith is neither so mindless nor so heartless that it is immune to grief. It is a good day to cry because our hope is based not on some knee-jerk optimism but, rather, on the profound awareness that often we walk grief-stricken through the valley of the shadow of death—even as we fear no evil. It is a good day to cry because as I find myself grieving the death of teammates, it is because often I have found myself loving the life and time with them. I cry today because I deeply cherish the faith, hope and love with which they lived and shared Christian life with us. I cry today just like Jesus himself wept outside the tomb of Lazarus. Crying does not contradict Christ. Tears do not drown out the Resurrection. Indeed, I believe that it is precisely in the honesty of our crying and through the vulnerability of our tears that we are best equipped to recognise the risen Christ in our midst. But such honesty and vulnerability get in the way of dealing with death on our own term. I urged their family, friends and all Jamaicans to grieve, feel the sorrow, the pain and suffering. Let us celebrate their deaths as we celebrated their life. Let us pray for them in death as we prayed for them in life. They were good and honorable men who would be missed by all who the good fortune of knowing them. Be strong and find comfort in trusting in the Lord. The Olympic touch is still on fire. The bonds of friendship will stand forever.
Source: www.guardian.co.tt