In 1968, I was ten. My babysitting aunt had found other distractions and spent less money on records. As a result, my only memory of music released that year was a Friday afternoon at her house, my nan’s, and reeling from the shock of turning Hey Jude over to its B side. I remember the singles of 1966 much clearer.
However, I was sports mad, a seasoned rugby and football fan, thanks to my grandfather. My most abiding memory of 1968 is the Mexico Olympics, held in October. The high altitude and the all weather track helped the ‘power’ sports. I was transfixed as Bob Beaman floated through the year shattering the long jump world record and amazed by Dick Fosbury throwing himself backwards to win the high jump. Even today, I still can’t believe how David Hemery managed to keep going so fast on that final straight in the 400m hurdles.
I’ve always loved the sprints. The 200m is an incredible race. I’m still enthralled by the way they stream round the bend and unravel at the straight. American Tommie Smith was meant to be nursing an injury but he came off the bend and surged past his great » Continue Reading.