1983 New York City Marathon (Men)

from

‘The 50 Greatest Marathon Races of All Time’
by William Cockerell (Author)

There are only a handful of sporting events that command “front-page” attention from everywhere from Miami to Moscow, Trinidad to Toronto, London to La Paz. The World Cup Soccer final is one such event, or a particular memorable Olympic final another. For a lesser sporting event to command the attention of picture editors the world over, something spectacular, controversial, memorable or unusual is required – or preferably all four. Jean Van de Velde debating whether to play from the canal in front of the 18^th at the Carnoustie British Open perhaps; or maybe John McEnroe having a tantrum at Wimbledon; or Greg Louganis splitting his head open on a diving board with a mistimed reverse two-and-a-half pike somersault. Or yes, an image of Geoff Smith and Rod Dixon at the conclusion of the 1983 New York City Marathon would do quite nicely, thank you.

Neither New Zealander, Rod Dixon nor Liverpudlian Geoff Smith were household names at the start of the ’83 New York, but most everyone knew what they looked like the following Monday morning as the drama they had played out seemed to tap straight into what people understood about sacrifice, toil, pain and despair. It was a true “water-cooler” moment:

“See the race on New York yesterday?”

“Yeah, poor guy – all that hard work.”

“Cruel to have it snatched away like that.”

“He seemed to think so.”

* * *

In some ways the field for the 1983 NYC Marathon appeared disappointing. This was chiefly because the triple winner from 1980-82, Alberto Salazar had not come to race.

The reigning champion claimed that it didn’t fit in with his plans, but rumour had it that he rested after the Helsinki World Championships, then went straight up to 140 miles per week and landed himself with serious hamstring problems. Rodolfo Gomez, Salazar’s most troublesome opponent at previous New Yorks, had sciatica. Carlos Lopes who had pushed Rob de Castella to the limit in Rotterdam the previous spring was reported injured. So the big three from 1982 were absent. However, main contenders included the still worthy lights of Ron Tabb, Tony Sandoval and Kirk Pfeffer – all of the US and all with times under 2:10:30. The Brits had John Graham (2:09:28). Jim Dingwall (2:11) and Dave Long (2:12), with the former miler Geoff Smith making his debut.

Of Smith, Mel Watman of AW wrote:

Smith had an unusual running background in that he was 22 before he started to take the sport seriously. A fireman at the time, he recalls: “It was advertised at work in November 1975 that the first six in the National Fire Brigade CCCs would be selected for an international race in France in March 1976. As I had raced a few times before I decided to have a go. I trained every day up to the race, which I won, and went on and won in France. Since then I haven’t looked back.”

After four years of solid progress, Smith won his first title of real significance when he captured the UK title in the 10,000m in 1980 in 28:20, to book his ticket to the Moscow Olympics.

However, a fireman he may’ve been, but the stifling conditions were just too much in Moscow, (“I just couldn’t move, it was so hot!”). Later that year Smith enrolled as a Business Management and Marketing student at Providence College, Rhode Island – noted for John Treacy’s attendance. Smith hit peak form in the summer of 1981 when he ran in a GDR v GB meet and was the star of the match. A magnificent burst of speed over the final two laps was a revelation as he shot away from Werner Schildhauer, and moved to sixth on the British all-time list with 27:43. His second 5000 took just 13:41 and in covering the last lap in 58 he had shown he was certainly ready to take on the world. Smith then won the famous Emsley Carr mile at Cwmbran in August, astonishing everyone by winning in 3:55.8 to become the eleventh fastest British miler in history. Smith was displaying a truly impressive range, but as for his chances in the marathon, he suggested: “Timewise, I’m capable of going close to the world record. But I’m not going to be concerned with time. I’m going to be concerned about winning.”

New Zealand sent a dangerous trio to New York in 1983 in Dick Quax (2:10), Rod Dixon (2:11) and Kevin Ryan (2:11). On top of this, just to ensure a fast race, there was the late entry of Gidamis Shahanga, the 1978 Commonwealth champion, (where he’d defeated hot home-town favourite Jerome Drayton). In attempting to defend his title four years later, Shahanga had gone out at a pace that could be described as terrifying. He was consequently reeled in, but had shown he still had pace to be feared. All applicants were asked to predict a time on their application form. Rod Dixon, who had a mile best (3:53.62) two seconds quicker than Smith, predicted 2:07:38. The Kiwi had won his last 19 road races – plus the Auckland Marathon in 2:11:21 in May ’82, and had won an Olympic bronze in the 1500 way back at the 1972 Games. Neil Amdur of the New York Times observed: Sitting on the floor of the gymnasium at the Fort Wandsworth staging arena on Staten Island before the start and scanning other seeded runners among the record field, Dixon said: “It’s a whole new bloody world. They look hungry, they look mean. I wonder if I’ve got that look.”

The New York Marathon was now cementing itself as perhaps the world’s leading marathon. Amdur advertised: “There will be more of almost everything for today’s 14^th running, including a record number of competitors, medical units at every mile and the possible choices of an eventual men’s champ. In an event which has come to symbolize a coming together of the city’s five boroughs, even no-parking signs along the course will be posted in three languages (English, Spanish and Hebrew) for the first time.”

It seemed that it could be a race to savour after all.

The weather forecast called for cloudy skies, south-easterly winds and 50-degree temps with the possibility of showers by noon. As it turned out, those showers arrived early, and conditions were wet throughout the race. But they didn’t dampen the spectacle; in fact they enhanced it, as calves and hamstrings going into spasm because of the cold and wet only added to the drama.

As many had predicted, Gidamis Shahanga led off at suicidal pace. It wasn’t the sensible way to run marathons, but it was the only way he knew. By nine miles Shahanga was away and ripping through in 43:26. He went on to pass halfway in 63:12, with Smith now having left the comfort of the pack and doggedly stalking him nine seconds back. This all compared with the 64:10, which had been scored in the record year of 1981. Either the world record was going to fall very heavily, or else Mother Nature was going to exact some serious revenge over the second half.

An emotional man, Dixon began sobbing at Munich when he realized his dream of an Olympic medal had come true, even if a German official in doping control tried to cut him down to size. David Wallechinsky writes: “Still weeping, (Dixon) was ushered backstage for the urine test. After producing a meagre sample, Dixon sheepishly asked the official if it was enough. “For the gold medal, no. But for the bronze medal, it will do.”

Shahanga passed 15 miles in 1:12:33, but with less than 60 per cent of the race complete he was now starting to tie up. Smith pounces. After catching and passing him, the Tanzanian tucked into the Englishman’s slipstream. Chris White of AW reports: “Geoff was working hard but Gidamis looked good. Geoff had stated before the race that he was going to win but nobody had listened. The next mile, on the Queensborough Bridge took 4:59, but on the fast next mile, the 17^th off the bridge and down 1^st Avenue, Geoff threw in a 4:28 and Shahanga was gone.” 4:28 miling…The world of marathoning had found a new star, and it was clear that the classic race was evolving. Fast. Evolving into a race where tremendous leg speed over the shorter distances would soon become a requisite for leading performances on the world stage”.

Rod Dixon was still in the race but his thoughts were negative. He later recalled: “When I came off the bridge and looked up First Avenue I saw Geoff and Shahanga a half mile away and said ‘oh my God, it’s not enough time’. Then I looked at the pace car, and it had 47 minutes left, so I said to myself ‘stay within your pace, stay within your race.’ Slowly they started to come back to me, but it’s a helluva way to run a race.”

Dixon was running in third, Tabb fourth, Sandoval fifth and Graham sixth. At 20 miles Smith clocked 1:36:51, still on schedule for a monumental sub-2:07, but perhaps now looking somewhat drained. Dixon, meanwhile, had passed the brave but ailing Shahanga and closed to within 35 seconds. Just as it looked as though Dixon could be coming right back into contention, he ran into trouble, clutching his right hamstring. He had slipped on the wet surface at 5 miles and hurt it, and the cold water splashing up was not helping. “Both men were in trouble, reports Chris White: “If anyone was in range and going well, he could have picked them off. But at that pace, there was no-one. The miles were coming slower now – 5:02, 5:08, and 5:12 – and Rod was 18 seconds back at 23. The courage of both men was visible on their faces as they fought to keep it going…”

Two more painful, scratchy miles came in 5:16 and 5:21 and the 25-mile split arrived at 2:02:53. However much Smith was dying on his feet, he was valiantly keeping a hold of his precious lead. Dixon was still 14 seconds adrift. At this rate, with less than 2 kilometres to go he just wasn’t going to make it. “A miler’s kick does the trick, a miler’s kick does the trick,” Dixon chanted to himself, believing that his superior track speed would win the day. He wasn’t aware that, coincidently, he was racing a man with a mile time nearly equal to his own. White continues: “Half a mile later, Geoff rounded a corner, stumbled and almost fell. Rod hadn’t seen. The ghosts of 1908, 1948 and 1954 were hovering. Rod stopped clutching his hamstring which he had been doing every few yards, and dug deep to try to find something left. Geoff knew there was someone there. He didn’t know who it was and didn’t care.” It’s usually good news for an athlete when they can taste “blood in the water”. Smith could taste it all right, but sadly for him it was his own. There was only one thing for it – hang on. Easy to say, but near impossible to do when in his state of near collapse. Smith passed the 26-mile marker at 2:07:54 and a moment later Dixon drew alongside. Smith looked over and knew. The game was up.

Dixon pushed on over the final 300 yards, and, suddenly refreshed, crossed the finish in 2:08:59, sunk to his knees, with arms outstretched with the joy of victory – and the relief of winning. After breaking the tape, he raised his arms high, and then knelt as if in prayer and bowed. Soon he was up, thrusting his right arm in the air and wobbling slightly. “Thank God,” he could be heard mumbling, “Thank God.”

Dixon & Lebow

A devastated Smith crossed the line nine seconds later. Victory had been snatched from his grasp. He too dramatically hit the deck, poleaxed on his back, not an ounce of energy left in his spent body. Three stewards immediately swooped upon him and dragged the seemingly lifeless sack of potatoes away from the finishing area and to, one presumes, medical aid.

Neil Amdur wrote: “In an ebullient display of emotion after surging across the line, the lanky, moustachioed Dixon dropped to his knees, lifted his arms, kissed the wet pavement, again raised his arms and put his hands to his head. “I did want it very much,” he said after extending his string of road-racing victories to 20 over the last 14 months. “And somehow you just express how you feel. I had tears.” He had been the favourite and it wasn’t supposed to have been as hard as that, or as fast as that. But it was. It was his second marathon, his second victory. He had become the eighth runner in history to break 2:09. Unlike some shorter-distance stars who race marathons unprepared and pay the penalty, Dixon had done a specific 3-month preparation in the States with two long runs weekly, and was spending $300 a week on phone calls to New Zealand to his coach, brother John.

At his first attempt at the marathon, Smith had deprived Ian Thompson of his longstanding British mark of 2:09:12 set when winning the 1974 Commonwealth Games. Ron Tabb placed third in 2:10:46, and in fourth the Canadian John Tuttle improved from his best from 2:12:32 to 2:10:1. John Graham ran well for fifth in 2:10:57. Gidamas Shahanga hung on for sixth, coincidently the same position as he landed in when he’d employed similar tactics against de Castella in the’82 Commonwealths. This men’s race had 11 men under 2:12 and 34 under 2:16:2. Today’s marathons may have faster times at the very top, but none can approach such incredible depth. The world’s marathon boom was truly at its peak.

“I was pushing as hard as I could, short of falling over,” Dixon told the New Zealand Herald. “I guess he was pushing himself to the point where he fell over. I think we both ran our tails off pretty well. That was a long, lonely haul to pick up the other guys,” Dixon said. Dixon remained surprisingly humble after his victory. “The marathon is a discipline all its own,” he said. “It takes a very special type of person. When you look at Salazar, de Castella, Grete, they all have special qualities. I have yet to earn that quality, and I’m not sure I have the time and patience to pursue it.

That’s the only way to win races today,” he said.

That’s what makes it so tough for everybody else: unless you’re in shape you’re not going to do anything.

I feel good, I’ve been out and had a few champagnes…things are going all right. Tomorrow I appear on “Good Morning America”, and a few other things…then I’ll take a break. I’ll certainly keep jogging.

On his age Dixon, who was 33, commented: “I don’t think there’s any set time really. You’ve got to be resilient; you’ve got to be versatile and yet you’ve got to have that maturity. People like de Castella and Salazar are the perfect mould, because they’re young enough, and yet they’ve been on the international circuit a good six or seven years.” Regarding the future, Dixon philosophised:

I don’t know. I’ve put the icing on the cake now, and now it’s on my terms. I’m going to run when and how I like. I think I’ve proved with this race now that I’m very much to the fore and I’ll continue my road racing of course, because that’s my forte over here. The sport is my business over here, and that is my interest and my first love, and it’s what I enjoy doing and get recognised and respected for.

Several years later Dixon concluded: “That win was the topping off my whole career. New York is the one you have to win.”

Skiing legend Jeane-Claude Killy found going slower in running shoes, but managed to break four hours in 3:58:08. Geoff Smith attempted to put into words the awful dual feeling of being a hunted man and pure exhaustion. The marathon for him had indeed been a baptism of fire: “I never felt as bad as I did over those last two miles. It was like running with a hangover – like having gone out and partied yourself to death and trying to get up the next morning. I really thought I was going to win, but my legs were shot.”

It rounded off a fantastic year for Antipodean sport: Australia won the America’s cup yacht race; Rob de Castella won the marathon at the first World Championships. Chris Lewis of New Zealand reached the Wimbledon final, Australia had reached the final of the tennis Davis Cup, and their cricketers had defeated England in the Ashes Test series.

Both Dixon and Smith went to the Los Angeles Olympics. Dixon placed a not unworthy tenth, while Smith failed to finish. Smith, however, would go on to play an important part in marathon history, in particular with the evolution of the Boston Marathon. He recorded back-to-back wins in Boston in 1984-5, but the fields were very substandard. Boston, even in this new age of professionalism, was still refusing to pay appearance or prize money to its leading runners, and consequently saw them staying away.

In 1984 Smith won by four minutes in 2:10:34, (to earn his Olympic selection), and the following year he won by five minutes, but only in 2:14 having hobbled, limped and walked the final miles after a spectacular “crash and burn” in a bold world-record bid, (he passed halfway in 1:02:51). But where were all the runners? Something had to be done, and it was. Boston rejuvenated itself, signed a huge deal with John Hancock Financial Services, and in 1986 returned as one of the premier world marathons – having faced the uncomfortable prospect of becoming just another local road race.

Race result:

Rod Dixon NZL 2:08:59

Geoff Smith GBR 2:09:08

Ron Tabb USA 2:10:46

John Tuttle USA 2:10:51

John Graham GBR 2:10:57

Gidamis Shahanga TAN 2:11:05

2,169^th Martin BatesM26 GBR 3:07:38 (7:09 pace)

8,900^th Jack Goodwin M46 GBR 3:56:47 (9:02 pace)

15,193 finishers

See http://www.nycmarathon.org/home/index.php

Submitted by: Martin Bates on 13^th April 2007