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halberg awards

FEATURE

Murray Halberg could be forgiven for spending the last 50 years or so living off the glory of his Olympic triumph. Speaking circuit, dubious endorsements, you know how it works. Instead he re-dedicated his life to achieving glory, not for himself, but for others, helping open sport to all New Zealanders.

by

adrian hyland

40 sstm february 2012

halbergs

was overawed. Sir Murray Halberg, closing in on 80 years old and sitting across from me in his office next to Ellerslie racecourse, is remembering his first appearance in an Olympic final. It was the 1500 metres at Melbourne in 1956, and he was 23. As far as I was concerned there was no more determined young athlete in that field than me. But I realised in the space of four minutes that it took more than just being determined, that there was another factor to all of this. Halberg, having led the race in its early stages, faded badly and finished, in his words, effectively last, with the runner behind him in a state of some disrepair. It was a devastating outcome, but by the end of the day the young man had processed it ruthlessly. Leaving the stadium that day, I was probably one of the last to leave. I realised in that moment that Id made an Olympic final and not run well. Maybe it was the crowd of over 100,000, I dont know. But before I left I looked up and there was the Olympic flame, flickering. I said, You havent seen the last of Halberg. Ill be back. On a quiet Tuesday morning in the

hills behind St Heliers, not far from the offices of the Halberg Trust, Ive got an appointment with another New Zealand sporting prodigy. The sounds of a piano filter out from the garage to my left as I check the house number and knock on the back door. The piano stops, the door opens and a tall, dark-skinned boy looks at me curiously. Is Shakti there please? I ask. Oh... youre from The Magazine right? The boy turns inside, shouts up the stairs Shakti! then disappears back into the garage and resumes his musical exercises. This is my auntys house. Were just up from Hamilton for the weekend, explains Shaktidevan Krishnan, born in Kuala Lumpur 14 years ago his parents moved to New Zealand when he was two. Like many Kiwi youngsters, he has devoted much of his childhood to sports. When we speak he has that fidgety, cant-sitstill quality of kids who would much rather be outside doing something more exciting. What makes him unlike most of those kids is that he conducts our interview sitting in a wheelchair. Shakti was born with L3 spina bifida, which means his spine wasnt formed properly. Its a debilitating and

presumably exhausting plight, but he tells me, Im not that bad. I can walk and stuff using crutches. In the next hour or so it becomes clear to me that while fate may have imposed on Shakti this rare condition, it seems to have forgotten to install in him another more common one: the capacity for self-pity. Its obvious that this young man doesnt think of himself as disabled. Hes a tiny figure, barely filling the frame of his wheelchair, but he speaks with such energy that theres no sense of frailty about him. And he has the self-assurance and satisfied glow of the athlete. For Murray Halberg, the four years after Melbourne were a reaction against the naivety he had shown there. In tandem with his visionary coach Arthur Lydiard, he got pragmatic. When it became clear that the great Australian Herb Elliott was turning the 1500 metres into something of a personal showcase, Halberg moved up in distance, to 5000 metres. I really didnt have a lot of option. However hard I tried, Elliott was beyond me to take in the 1500. It became a choice of another event. Lydiard always said I would be the best at 10,000 metres but I hated it,

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halberg awards

FEATURE

found it boring; 5000 metres was still quick, you had to run fast. Running fast was never going to be enough, though. A simple but profound shift in Halbergs mentality took place in those years between Melbourne and Rome. More than 50 years later he leans forward, and his voice cracks with emotion as he gives a rare insight into the promises that champions make to themselves on the way to greatness, and into the potential for desolation should those promises get broken. For me the visualisation was not to go to those Roman Olympics to compete for New Zealand, not to compete with distinction, not necessarily to win a medal, not necessarily to win, but to stand on the dais with the gold medal. At that point no one could take it away from me. September 2, 1960. Stadio Olimpico, Rome. Murray Halberg is still absorbing the news that his countryman Peter Snell has unexpectedly won the 800 metres gold just minutes before when the starter gun fires the Olympic 5000 metres final into life. He quickly settles into a position at the tail of the field, a move that reflects the confidence he is feeling. The 5000 is the thinking mans distance psychology and tactics are usually the difference and Halbergs head is clear as he takes in the faces of the crowd and the movements of the runners ahead of him. He watches from a distance as the others jostle for position. They seem to be using up energy with their manoeuvrings, energy theyll need later. He doesnt even know who most of them are. He needs to keep an eye on them in case one of them makes a break for it, and for most of the race thats all he does. The bell rings for three laps to go, but only in the mind of one runner. Halberg, implementing the plan he and Lydiard have been working on for four years, makes his move. He gathers himself, then reaches down into his energy reserves, shifts through the gears, drops the hammer and runs for his life. An

Before I left I looked up and there was the Olympic flame, flickering. I said, You havent seen the last of Halberg. Ill be back.

early break like this is going to mean three minutes of pain, but he knows all those early mornings in the Waitakeres with Snell and Lydiard have prepared him for it. He looks back over his shoulder at the other runners, and sees that they havent been able to deal with the shift he has instigated. They now trail him by 20 metres. When he refocuses his gaze forward the heat hits him. The late afternoon sun hangs in the sky to

the west, and the fine orange cinders of the track are warm as they pass beneath his feet. Suddenly theres 200 metres to go, and hes on the final bend. He leans into it, hugging the curve until it reaches its end and the white lines of the home straight stretch out before him. One more look back. The others are closing. Can they catch me? They cant. In 2003, when Shakti was five years old, doctors told him that he needed to have a major operation on his back. It meant he would be unable to continue a sporting career that was already starting to blossom. The first sport I took seriously was wheelchair tennis. I did that when I was really young, from when I was about four. But then after the operation I had to give up aggressive sports. It was potentially a crushing blow for a sports-mad kid. But the blow never landed. Shakti, relentless in his pursuit of sporting activity, simply switched focus and took up table tennis. His eyes flash with

Murray Halberg crosses the finish line to win the 5000 metres event at the Olympic Games in Rome in 1960.

excitement and his arms whirr as he demonstrates to me his technique. I actually play open table tennis, you know, not against people like me. I can cover the back of the table, and then I just swivel onto my backhand, and I do OK. But my main success in competition has come in the wheelchair divisions. In November last year Shakti represented Waikato at the Paralympics New Zealand National Table Tennis Championships. He took home gold in the wheelchair event. He was 13. In his office, I ask Halberg to describe the moment he won Olympic gold. Its not happiness. Its something else, something you put yourself through. Id fulfilled my pledge, Id won at the Olympic Games. It was the one race that Id set my heart, my mind, my body and

soul, my whole being if you like. That was the one chance, and I took it. On that historic day in 1960 Halberg and Snell delivered a message that reverberated around the world. Their victories provoked an outpouring of the feelings New Zealanders had for their young country, and a validation of the kind of ambition and bloodymindedness needed to succeed on the world stage. For Halberg, who achieved all he did with a withered left arm the result of a horrendous rugby injury sustained at the age of 17 it seems that Rome was a kind of stepping stone, an awakening. You think that an Olympic champion is some kind of God, but of course thats a fallacy. Youre not elevated to somewhere on Mt Olympus or anything like that. You realise that in fact you are very human. And that its a starting point for life. When Shakti was 11 his father took a job at a lodge in National Park at the foot of Mt Ruapehu, and the family moved down with him. Suddenly Shakti was living 20 minutes from a snowfield. Of course the temptation was too great. I didnt realise that it would be possible for people like me to ski, I had no idea. But the principal at my school arranged coaching for me, and that was my first contact with the Halberg Trust. They paid for my coaching. Listening to Shakti talk about snow sports, its clear that his coach Travis Steele serves in a crucial dual role. He advises on technical detail, for sure, but on the side of a mountain someone as physically challenged as Shakti still needs a carer. The Halberg Trust provides him with one. Travis kind of helps me with getting up the mountain, with the chairlift, and when Im skiing hell be there beside me or behind me. Hes really helped me with my skiing, taught me everything. By 1962 Halberg was contemplating retirement from athletics and had arrived at a crossroads: I had been fully committed to athletics for 10, 12, 15 years, giving it everything, and I gradually became aware that when I gave it up there would be a gap in my life that would need to be addressed.

When he was invited to an aftermeet function in the Canadian city of Toronto he was oblivious to the life-changing effect the evening would have. It was a fundraising night in aid of crippled children, as they were then known. The kind of event I hadnt experienced in New Zealand. They raised a lot of money, and I just thought, What a wonderful idea. On his return to New Zealand, Halberg embarked on the next chapter of his life with the same combination of pragmatism and relentless application that had characterised his running career. His vision of an organisation that helped meet the needs and ambitions of those with disabilities quickly gained support, both from the governorgeneral and from his employer at the time, New Zealand Breweries. The first year there were just a few of us, and the idea was that we would get some money together to give to the Crippled Childrens Society, as it was called at the time. Gradually it evolved and we started funding holiday homes, vehicles, computers, thinking this was the answer. Then we started to get into sport and recreation, and weve bolted from there.

Shakti puts his Halberg funding to good use carving up the slopes like a pro.

Today its hard to imagine the sporting landscape of New Zealand without the Halberg Trust: 7500 disabled young people receive help from the trust every year, with its Activity Fund providing around $150,000 towards sports equipment and lessons in 2011. Snow sports are expensive to use a chairlift for a day costs $90, and then there are goggles, helmets and Shaktis especially designed mono-ski. So the Halberg is helping fund Shaktis coaching and training as a skier. Last August it also helped finance a trip to Cardrona to compete in the Adaptive Snowboard Cross World Cup, one of the events in the 100% Pure New Zealand Winter Games. Racing in the sit-ski division, and the youngest in the field at 13, he came third overall. I had no expectations. I didnt think Id do that well, so I was really happy when I came third. It was just amazing to get to see professional, worldclass skiers. If it wasnt for the trust I wouldnt have been able to do that.

I ask Shakti if his condition means he worries about getting injured? It seems not. I did fall off a cliff once. I was following my friend around a bunch of rocks, but I lost him, there was a fork and I thought he went this way but he had gone that way. Luckily, I landed in the snow. A more routine run still sounds pretty hair-raising. My coach will give me a little push to help me off the chairlift onto the snow, and Ill move forward, and then it kind of happens by itself, the ski follows the snow and you really have to use your stomach, your core, swivelling the whole lower half of your body to carve until youre going really fast its kind of like flying. When you reach the bottom you finally exhale. Its amazing. Once you start youll never go back. On the ninth of this month our sporting community will gather together at the annual Halberg Awards. Originally designed to raise funds for the trusts disabled sport programmes, they have become the barometer by which the New Zealand public measures its sportsmen and women. A Halberg is more than a reward for high performance. Its reserved for those who truly represent a society that holds equality and progress as its highest values. Halberg leans forward in his chair: I competed at a time when people with a disability were not visible in society. They werent given the opportunity to participate in life, and I dont just mean sport and recreation, I mean in life. I was given that opportunity, and I said, quite clearly, that all New Zealanders, whatever their abilities, should have opportunity, recognition, support and encouragement to fulfil their own destiny. Thats our right as New Zealanders. He gets up and delivers his second bone-crushing handshake of the day. Is he satisfied with what hes achieved? A long way to go is the answer. He looks me in the eye and remarks: Good man. Its probably just a throwaway comment. Coming from Murray Halberg, Im keeping it.

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