Several minutes before the race was due to start, the runners drew numbers for the lane they would run in. Eric’s heart sank as he pulled out a card with the number six on it. This meant he would be in the outside lane of the track. He would start slightly in front of the others and gradually lose that advantage as the track curved. It meant that Eric wouldn’t be able to see where any of the other runners were unless they were beating him. The track at Colombes Stadium was longer than most. Since it was 500 meters around, the 400-meter race would take the runners around only one of the bends in the track, with the race finishing 100 meters short of the starting line. This made running in the outside lane very difficult.
Eric took his trowel from the leather pouch he carried with him, placed his feet where he wanted them to be when he started, and made marks with his toes. Then he used the trowel to dig two small holes for his toes where he had marked. He could hear the familiar drone of bagpipes. As he glanced around, he saw the king’s pipers marching proudly around the inside of the track, playing a traditional Scottish tune, “The Campbells Are Coming.” Eric smiled and waved to them as he put his trowel back in the leather pouch and handed it to his coach. He was the only Scotsman in the finals, and he knew the pipers were playing for him.
Suddenly, the bagpipe music faded, and the runners were called to their marks. Eric crouched at the starting line. In admiration, he glanced over at Guy Butler, who was again starting from a standing position. As he waited for the only sound that now mattered, the crack of the starter’s pistol, Eric could feel every muscle in his body tense.
When the pistol sounded, Eric lunged forward. He threw his head back and assumed his strange running position. His feet beat against the cinder track as he gathered speed down the back straight. As he rounded the bend in the track, the point where the runners would bunch up together, he expected to see Horatio Fitch and Joseph Imbach out in front of him. After all, they had both set new world records for the distance during their heats. When they weren’t out in front, Eric threw his head back even farther and willed his legs to go even faster.
In less than a minute, it was all over, and Eric was the first across the finish line. Against all odds, he had won!
Eric collapsed into the arms of the British coach, totally exhausted. It was several minutes before he realized that not only had he won but also he had set a new world record of 47.6 seconds for the distance. He had broken the record Horatio Fitch had set in his heat by two-tenths of a second. Horatio Fitch, himself, had finished a distant second in the race, and somehow Guy Butler had managed to fend off the other three runners to finish in third place.
After he had regained his strength, Eric climbed onto the top position of the stand where the gold medal was draped around his neck. To his right was Horatio Fitch, and to his left, Guy Butler. Above them the Union Jack flapped in the breeze at the top of the flagpole. Below it was the Stars and Stripes of the United States, and then another Union Jack. After the other two runners had received their medals, the band struck up “God Save the King,” the national anthem of Great Britain. A smile brimmed across Eric’s face. Now Great Britain had another gold medal, and one she hadn’t expected to win. All around him the crowd cheered.
After it was all over, Eric slipped quietly away from the crowd and headed to the dressing room. Quickly he showered and changed clothes. He wanted to get back to the hotel as soon as possible. He’d agreed to speak at the Scots Kirk again on Sunday, and he needed time to prepare what he was going to say.
The next morning, Saturday, the applause that had been heard all over Paris after Eric’s win was now resounding throughout Scotland. The newspapers that had been so critical of him when he would not run in the 100-meter sprint on Sunday were now trying to outdo each other in praising him. The Scotsman reported, “Certainly there has not been a more popular win. The crowd went into a frenzy of enthusiasm.” The Edinburgh Evening News wrote, “All around the banked area people were on their feet cheering madly, and as if by magic, hosts of Union Jacks appeared over the heads of the raving crowd as Liddell ripped through the tape and into the arms of the Britishers who were waiting for him.” The Bulletin, another Scottish newspaper, reported that Eric Liddell’s win was “the greatest achievement in the Olympic Games so far.”
Eric was amused when he read the accounts in the newspapers. One day he was a coward and traitor to Scotland; the next he was being hailed as a national hero.
As he watched the remaining days of the Paris Olympic Games, one thought was never far from Eric’s mind. How would the Scottish people react when they found out that their top sports star was about to buy a one-way ticket to China? What would the newspapers say about him then?
Chapter 6
Local Hero
Eric peered out the train window. The train was approaching Victoria Station. Soon the members of the 1924 British Olympic team would separate and go their own ways. Eric would be returning to Edinburgh, where he was due to graduate from university the following Saturday. As the train pulled slowly into the station, people ran along the platform from carriage to carriage looking in the windows.
“He’s in here,” yelled a teenage boy as he pointed at Eric.
Soon a mob of people was gathered outside the carriage Eric that was riding in. The crowd began cheering “We want Eric. We want Eric.” As Eric gingerly opened the carriage door, a flood of cheers greeted him. Several of the men in the crowd grabbed him. He felt himself being hoisted onto their shoulders. The crowd went wild, cheering as Eric was paraded around the platform.
Finally, things died down enough for Eric to make his way to a friend’s home to stay the night. The following day, Eric set off for Edinburgh. It was not an easy trip. People everywhere recognized him. Young boys would thrust autograph books at him, and old men wanted to shake his hand or slap him on the back. Even though Eric was shy by nature, he did not mind the attention too much. He realized he had won his medals for the people of the British Isles. Now those people wanted to congratulate him. Still, he was glad when he finally arrived home in Edinburgh.
The following Saturday, Eric donned his black robe with its wide hood ready to receive his bachelor of science degree. (Scottish graduates wear a hood, not a mortarboard, as do graduating students in many other countries.) Eric took his place in alphabetical order in the front row of McEwan Hall, where the graduation ceremony was to take place. He listened closely as Vice-Chancellor Sir Alfred Ewing gave the commencement address. Then, one by one, the graduating students were called up to receive their degrees. The audience applauded each student. They got to the “Ls.” First, Lambert, G.H.; then Lemont, F.M.; and finally, Liddell, E.H.
As Eric stood, so did everyone else in McEwan Hall. The crowd cheered and clapped as Eric stepped onto the stage. Sir Alfred Ewing raised his hand, motioning the crowd to be quiet, but no one took the slightest notice of him. The people cheered and clapped and stomped their feet for several minutes before quieting down enough for the vice-chancellor to make a short speech. The speech was even shorter than he had planned. Sir Alfred Ewing barely had time to say, “Well, Mr. Liddell, you have shown that no one can pass you but the examiner,” when the applause erupted again.
A full minute later, the crowd again quieted down and Sir Alfred Ewing was able to go on. He explained how in the ancient Olympics the champions were crowned with wreaths made from laurel leaves. As he spoke, he reached under the podium and pulled out a wreath. “Now, I was not able to obtain Greek laurel leaves here in Scotland, but the head gardener at the Royal Botanical Gardens assures me this is as close as we will find.” With that, he placed the wreath firmly on Eric’s head. Then the Greek master, who was also on stage, stepped forward and began to read a poem that he had written about Eric’s victory. The poem was in ancient Greek, and Eric didn’t understand much of it, but it sounded very grand!
Finally, Eric was handed his bachelor of science degree. He gave the audience a smile and a wave and headed off the stage. It was not until he had sat down again that the applause finally died away and the ceremony could go on.
After the ceremony, there was to be a church service at St. Giles Cathedral on High Street. Eric had expected to walk there like everyone else, but that didn’t happen. As soon as Sir Alfred Ewing had thanked everyone for coming, Eric’s fellow students surged toward Eric. Before he knew what was happening, Eric was hoisted onto a chair with poles nailed to either side of it so that it could be carried on the shoulders of his fellow students. Soon the chair was lifted above the crowd, and Eric was carried from McEwan Hall, down the steps, and all the way to the cathedral.
Eric was still wearing the wreath when the students finally deposited him on the front steps of the cathedral. Suddenly the crowd that had accompanied him from the university was silent. Eric realized that it was waiting for him to give a speech.
In an instant, his mind flashed back to his fellow athletes who had tried their hardest for Great Britain but had not come back from Paris as Olympic champions. As he thought about them, Eric remembered a quote he’d read somewhere. He repeated the quote for the crowd. “In the dust of defeat as well as the laurels of victory there is glory to be found if one has done his best.” Then he talked for a few minutes about what the words meant, reminding the crowd that they should all be proud of themselves when they know they’ve tried their hardest at something.
During the service in the cathedral, Eric sat quietly and listened to the sermon. He had hoped that things would have died down by the time the service was over, but the other students had an even bigger surprise for him. When the service was over, Eric was led down the aisle and through the double wooden doors. As he walked out into the sunlight, he saw a horse-drawn carriage waiting.
Before he had time to realize what was happening, Eric found himself sitting inside the carriage next to Sir Alfred Ewing. The carriage pulled off and traveled along the Royal Mile and onto Princes Street, Edinburgh’s main street. All along the way, huge crowds had gathered to honor their local sports hero. Eric smiled and waved to them. Finally, the carriage stopped outside the vice-chancellor’s home, and Eric was invited in for dinner.
It had been a wonderful day, and Eric happily wrote and told his parents and Robert all about it. He wished they could have seen it for themselves. Since they hadn’t, he sent them a pile of newspaper clippings about his achievements in Paris at the Olympic Games.
The celebrations did not end in a single day, though. For the next week, receptions and parties were held for Eric every day. Just when Eric thought he could take no more, it was time for him to climb aboard the train for a trip to London. There, at Stamford Bridge, he was to compete for the British Empire against the United States. It had been arranged before the Olympic Games started that the American team would stop off in London on its way home for the competition. As he rumbled along on the train towards London, Eric could hardly believe it had been only eight days since the Olympic Games had ended. So much had happened to him in such a short time.
Eric was to be the last man (the anchor) on the British Empire’s 4×400-meter relay team. The anchor on the American team was none other than Horatio Fitch, whom Eric had beaten in the final of the 400-meter race in Paris. Everyone present for the competition wondered whether Eric could beat Fitch again. The people didn’t have to wait long to find out.
