Sir Murray Halberg died on Wednesday evening at the age of 89. Photo / Photosport
OPINION:
Whenever I had the privilege of meeting Sir Murray Halberg, three things stood out.
Along with his modesty and his mana, there was the unmistakable pride in the foundation he had created, which had changed so many lives since it was formed in 1963.
Halberg, who passed away aged89 on Wednesday, was one of New Zealand’s greatest runners but never seemed that comfortable discussing his athletic achievements, preferring to focus on the here and now.
He generally kept a low profile, savouring the quiet life on Waiheke Island, where he worked in a hardware store for many years before his retirement.
But when he did open up, Halberg had some wonderful stories, befitting a track career that had defied the odds, during the golden age of New Zealand athletics.
He particularly enjoyed talking about inspirational coach Arthur Lydiard, as well as legendary contemporaries like Sir Peter Snell, Bill Baillie and Barry Magee, even if most people just wanted to talk about him.
Halberg’s Olympic 5000m victory is seared into the collective consciousness of Kiwis, whether they experienced it back in 1960, or have read the stories and watched the footage since.
It was part of New Zealand’s golden hour, as Snell and Halberg claimed triumphs in quick succession in Rome.
Halberg had just completed his warm up – along with the 11 other runners in the 5000m final – when they were informed of Snell’s surprise victory in the 800m.
”I knew Peter had won gold so I said to myself ‘Pete has done it, so can I’,” Halberg recalled in an Athletics New Zealand interview in 2019.
But it wasn’t going to be easy.
Lydiard and Halberg had settled on an audacious tactical plan, built on the courage and tenacity that would define his career – and life.
It called for Halberg to make a charge three laps from the finish, relying on the strength built up from endless work in the Waitākereranges.
”Arthur looked to develop stamina and prepared us as if we were marathon runners,” remembered Halberg in 2019.
The Owairaka club representative made his dash with 1300m to go, with the intention of breaking the spirit of the field, but pushed himself beyond normal limits.
As the pain came, Halberg repeated a mantra in his head.
”Body, if you let me win this race, I will let you rest,” said the 27-year-old laboratory technician to himself.
He gained an advantage of 20 metres – but could he hold it?
Halberg had successfully used the same race plan at the 1958 Empire Games but this was something else.
”Halberg drew away,” wrote the Manchester Guardian correspondent trackside. “Judging by the distortion of his face, the pace must have been excruciating.”
Speaking in 2019, Halberg agreed.
”It was very different to Cardiff (1958) when I ran away from the field because in Rome I was hanging on,” said Halberg. “The pain is something you forget easily, but I won because of my resolve, the thought that if I was ever going to do it, this was the time.”
German Hans Grodotzki closed the gap, before Halberg found something extra, grabbing the tape as he crossed the line, as 90,000 spectators rose to applaud him.
The Daily Mirror correspondent was awestruck.
”On and on this frail pale man with his swaying run circled the track like a ball in a giant red roulette wheel till finally he hit the tape and collapsed on the grass, his face salt-white against the vivid green.”
That was Halberg’s signature race, though there were many other achievements, including two Empire Games golds and four world records.
He competed in the Melbourne, Rome and Tokyo Olympics and the Empire (now Commonwealth) Games of 1954, 1958 and 1962 and was the first of Lydiard’s runners to break through on the world stage.
He remained an inspirational figure long into retirement and members of the 2004 New Zealand Olympic team still talk about the impact of his presence in Athens, where he was a team mentor.
But Halberg’s greatest legacy was his foundation, which he created after attending a fundraising dinner in Canada for children with a disability.
As the years went by, he preferred to work in the background, never that happy in the spotlight, though always recognising he was the face of the foundation.
He was occasionally frustrated by the debate around the winners of the Halberg Awards, believing that critics were missing the point.
”It’s all about the young people, that’s what matters,” he once told me at an Awards function.
Halberg, who had a remarkable presence despite his smallish frame, gave everything to be an Olympic champion on that warm evening in Rome, then spent the next six decades giving even more.