Morris v. Owens

Added to the Olympic program in 1912, the decathlon is a test of all-round athletic ability in which competitors are awarded points for ten events: 100-metre dash, no-metre hurdles, 400-metre run,, 1,500 metre run, broad jump, high jump, shot put, discus throw, javelin throw, pole vault. To build up a respectable score in the decathlon, a track & field athlete need not be particularly able in any one of the ten. Since each of his individual performances is usually outclassed by specialists, an athlete who goes out for the decathlon rarely gets much publicity. And since the decathlon is obviously one of the most taxing events in any track & field program, sports writers properly feel guilty for ignoring it.

The James E. Sullivan Memorial Trophy is a small bronze statue awarded annually by the Amateur Athletic Union to the U. S. athlete who "by his performance, example and influence' as an amateur and as a man has done most during the year to advance the cause of sportsmanship." There is no particular reason why these conditions should be fulfilled any better by a decathloner than by a foot-racer, polo player or yachtsman. Nonetheless, the sports experts whose poll decides the Sullivan award have come to regard it as a rare chance to make amends to decathloners for the neglect with which they are usually treated. The Sullivan award was inaugurated by the Amateur Athletic Union in 1930. Decathloner Barney Berlinger won it in 1931. Decathloner Jim Bausch won it in 1932. This "Stop kidding me. Where did Owens finish, then?" year, voting for the Sullivan award was closer than usual. Early returns made it look as if it would go to famed Jesse Owens, the triple Olympic champion Negro sprinter, who failed to win last year mainly because the fact that he was a page in the Ohio State Legislature cast a cloud over his amateur standing. Last week, when the final votes were tabulated, Owens was in second place, with 1.013 votes.

Winner was another decathloner--Glenn Morris of Denver and New York. In the list of compliments with which the Sullivan Committee always accompanies its gifts, Decathloner Morris, who got 1.106 votes, was characterized as "modest, courageous, helpful, amiable and always willing to abide by decisions and rulings ... a fine type of sportsman. . . ." Decathloner Morris discovered his vocation in a way characteristic of decathloners. A famed footballer at Colorado State College of Agriculture, he had never seen the event until he visited the 1932 Olympic Games as a spectator. Decathloner Jim Bausch's victory, with a world record score, caused Spectator Morris' eyes to pop. Said he: "I can do all those things as well as he can and some of them a little better." By the time he reached Berlin last summer, Glenn. Morris had proved his point, but when he arrived at the last event of the Olympic decathlon, he still needed to run the 1,500 metres in 4 min.

32 sec. to break the world record. He had already competed in four events that day; his .best previous time for 1,500 metres was 4 min. 47 sec. In a wildly exciting race, against Belgium's Boulanger, who, though the crowd of 80,000 did not know it, had no chance to beat his total, Morris finished first in 4:33.2. Disgusted with himself, he was walking off the track when officials called him back. An error in computing his earlier points meant that he had set a new world's decathlon record with 7,900 points. Currently returned to obscurity as anonymous announcer for National Broadcasting Co. in New York, Decathloner Morris was amazed last week when told that he had won. Said he: "Stop kidding me. Where did Owens finish then?" Said Jesse Owens in Havana, where, having just won a race against a horse (TIME, Jan. 4), he was preparing to try to better his own world's record for the broad jump: "I'm glad the best man won."

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