The Register Citizen (Torrington, CT)
Olympic hero is dead, but his legacy lives on
SAN DIEGO — Jim Redmond died Sunday in Northampton, England. He was 81.
Who was Jim Redmond? He emigrated to North London from the Caribbean island of Trinidad at age 14 and got a job making wood packing crates. A few years later, he worked as a truck driver for a company that made machinery for the food industry. He moved to sales, then formed his own machinery company: J Redmond & Son.
He also was a pioneer. Graham Yandell, publisher of Meat Management magazine, said in an obituary: “There is a lot of talk about diversity these days, but Jim Redmond actually broke down the barriers years ago and, at a time when prejudice was much more prevalent than in today’s enlightened society, was a great example of a man who never let the color of his skin hold him back.”
But it was other barriers Redmond climbed over and around that defined his legacy, during the semifinals of the men’s 400 meters inside Estadi Olimpic de Monjuic at the 1992 Summer Games in Barcelona. The International Olympic Committee calls it “one of the most inspirational moments in Olympic history.”
Go ahead. Try to watch it without tearing up.
Redmond was in the stadium as his son, Derek, settled into the starting blocks in lane 5.
Derek, the British national record holder at 400 meters, had missed the 1988 Olympics in Seoul when, 90 seconds before his opening heat, he felt a twinge in his Achilles tendon and withdrew. But he had been part of England’s victorious 4x400 relay team at the 1991 World Championships in Tokyo, upsetting the mighty Americans. He won his preliminary and quarterfinal heats in Barcelona. The five surgeries were behind him. This was his time.
In the moments before the starting gun, he privately dedicated the race to his father, the driving force behind his career, his crutch through the endless bouts of rehab, his best friend, his rock.
The gun sounded and he exploded from the blocks, moving well through the first turn, perfectly positioned as the eight runners reached the back stretch. Pop.
“I thought I had been shot,” Derek said.
It was his right hamstring, and he crumbled to the orange urethane track as the rest of the field rounded the far turn, tore down the home stretch and crossed the finish line. Derek looked up and saw a stretcher crew approaching.
No way he was getting on it.
He stood and began halfhobbling, half-skipping down the back stretch and into the final turn, dragging his right leg behind him, swerving but staying in lane 5 as the 65,000 inside Estadi Olimpic de Monjuic turned their attention from the seven finishers to the solitary figure hobbling in lane 5, pain etched across his face.
“Everything I had worked for was finished,” he said later. “I hated everybody. I hated the world. I hated hamstrings. I hated it all … Then I felt a hand on my shoulder.”
It was his father, who had charged down the aisle, evaded security, scaled barriers, jumped on the track, evaded more security in his blue shorts, white T-shirt and “Just Do It” cap. He wrapped Derek’s left arm over his shoulder and whispered into his ear: “You don’t have to do this.”
Derek: “I’ve got to finish.”
Jim: “OK, we started your career together, so we’re going to finish this race together.”
Derek broke down and buried his head in his father’s shoulder, bawling. Jim kept them moving, walking arm in arm, staying in lane 5. The crowd roared louder.
An overzealous meet official approached and tried to usher them off the track. Jim shooed him away. They kept going. Another in a green jacket approached and left. They kept going, J Redmond & Son.
It’s the kind of iconic moment only the Olympics seem capable of chiseling into our consciousness. It was featured in Bud Greenspan’s documentary about the Barcelona Games. Jim Redmond was selected as a torch bearer for the 2012 Olympics in London. Visa produced a 2008 commercial with footage of Jim and Derek Redmond staggering down the track with narration by Morgan Freeman.
“Derek Redmond didn’t finish in first place in the 1992 400 meters,” Freeman says in his deep, soothing voice. “He didn’t finish in second, or third, or fourth.
He, and his father, finished dead last. But he, and his father, finished.”
He crossed the line in nearly three minutes, the slowest Olympic quartermile in history, but was not given an official time because he was disqualified for receiving assistance.
A DNF on the results sheet … just not in life.
Two years later, a doctor told Derek his hamstring was hanging by a thread and his track career was over and he’d never compete for his country again. He withdrew from the 1994 Commonwealth Games in England and, crushed, escaped to the anonymity of the United States. He rehabbed his leg in the weight room and pool but, more and more, found himself playing basketball.
He came to terms with the injury and the abrupt end to his track career. But the assumption of never representing his country again, he said, “really bugged me, got under my skin.”
He returned to Northampton and, with his father’s encouragement, joined a local basketball team. The following year, he played for the Birmingham Bullets in England’s low-level pro league. Then came an invitation to the national team for a single game against an overmatched opponent.
He subbed in late in the second half, up 63 points. Later, he received some photos of him wearing an England jersey and had one framed for his office wall.
“It was up for about 30 seconds, no more,” Derek said years later at a speaking engagement.
He took the photo out of the frame, grabbed a marker and wrote a message to the doctor thanking him for “your confidence,” then mailed it to him.
“If you go back to that race in Barcelona, I finished last,” the son of Jim Redmond said. “But I finished. If you ask most people who won the Olympic final (American Quincy Watts in 43.50 seconds), most people won’t know. If you ask who is that bloke who got up and finished the race, lots of people remember that.
“Somebody asked me, what is your definition of success? I said, ‘To me, it’s getting up one more time than you’ve been knocked down.’ It’s all you’ve got to do.”