Lance Armstrong rides close to compatriot Tyler Hamilton. Photo / Getty Images
James McNeish, Hodder Stoughton, 1986
The New Zealand sports novel is a rare genre. Reading Lovelock was designed as a means to acclimatise for the Rio Olympics, but it proved much more. No wonder it was nominated for the Booker Prize.
McNeish, who died last month aged 85, delivers a master class in research and imagination on the 1500m gold medallist from the 1936 Berlin Olympics.
Lovelock's planned assault on the field was meticulous for the period, but after writing "success is glorious only when nobly achieved" in his diary after the result, the analysis dries up and few details of his post-Berlin life are known. McNeish constructs a coherent and plausible story - my favourite was his dialogue with penicillin discoverer Sir Alexander Fleming while they worked at the same London hospital. The author also treads delicately regarding Lovelock's final days before he died on December 28, 1949, falling in front of a train on the New York subway, eight days short of his 40th birthday.
This perceptive psychological study should be a rite of passage for those curious about New Zealand sporting pioneers.
Suzanne McFadden, Mary Egan Publishing, 2016
How this story took 40 years to mature into a published book will remain one of New Zealand sports writing's befuddling mysteries. Thank goodness author Suzanne McFadden, underwriter David Appleby, and Mary Egan Publishing dedicated themselves to the narrative of the 1976 New Zealand men's hockey gold medallists.
This is McFadden's maiden book, but it was anything but a novice effort. Her dedication involved three years' research and writing where experience as a former Herald sports journalist paid dividends.
New Zealanders of a certain vintage might be aware of goalkeeper Trevor Manning playing on with a shattered knee cap in the final against Australia, but this book delves into the lives and circumstances of all 16 players, as well as coach Ross Gillespie and manager Tony Palmer.
As McFadden notes in the prologue as they head to the July 30 final: "A boilermaker and a Rhodes scholar; a watersider and an upholsterer; an architect and an engineer; teachers and students. No matter where they've come from in their other lives, on the hockey turf they are all equals, all aiming for the same goal. They've already answered their critics, but here is a final opportunity to slam it home, to achieve what no-one in the world would have credited them with."
Egalitarianism forms a theme, and justifiably so. You come away uplifted.
Peter Snell and Garth Gilmour, Minerva, 1965
Taking payment for this book effectively made Sir Peter Snell a professional who, at 26, was banned from racing.
Fortunately the three-time Olympic gold medallist had already retired. Reading this in preparation for the Herald's Top Olympians series highlighted Snell's dedication and candour in relation to the sport. His snouts-in-the-trough themed criticism of the powers-that-be in the New Zealand athletics fraternity was courageous, irrespective of era. It's a similar scenario now. Few modern day athletes, apart from gold medallists such as Mahe Drysdale, Jo Aleh, Valerie Adams, Hamish Bond and Eric Murray, speak out against administrative injustice, coaching spats or general freeloading in the sports industry. It's human nature not to bite the hand that feeds.
Most Kiwi sports fans will be familiar with the Snell medal tales, but this excels with fringe anecdotes like his trip to a Capri pensione after the Rome win where he sampled star treatment for the first time, getting moved from basement to penthouse overnight after the owners saw his race on telly.
Snell describes the satisfaction of donning a nylon jacket and rubbing olive oil into his legs before logging 1000 miles in the pre-Tokyo Games winter. He experienced further VIP treatment when served New Zealand lamb chops at a family friend's residence afterwards, and he witnessed a carnation and chrysanthemum-eating contest between team-mates Bill Baillie and John Davies in the post-Games revelry.
One question still remains unanswered 52 years on: Where did that singlet go?
Peter Baxter, Quiller, 2009
Anyone who has listened to (or watched and listened to) a cricket test unfolding in England will be familiar with the institution of Test Match Special.
Whether you're on a journey or ensconced at the ground, this tends to be compulsory for the ears, perhaps even more so when yarns are riffed during rain breaks.
There are interaction opportunities for listeners too, such as prompt answers to statistical questions, or sending in home baking for the panel's scrutiny.
TMS has operated since 1957. In June 2007, the BBC studio announcer signed off by thanking the commentators and then stating "the producer - for the last 34 years - was Peter Baxter".
A swag of anecdotes are here from Baxter's time working with doyens such as John Arlott and Brian Johnston to the incumbent BBC cricket correspondent Jonathan Agnew.
In addition, the anatomy of how the operation works makes for fascinating digestion. The sometimes public schoolboy humour also cameos, notably in the title.
You'll never underestimate the efforts to establish broadcast lines from venues again, particularly in days of yore on the Subcontinent.
Tyler Hamilton and Daniel Coyle, Transworld Publishers, 2012
The story of Tyler Hamilton's demise is relatively old, but you won't be disappointed dusting this off as a reminder of how much he, Lance Armstrong and their cronies ruined the world of professional cycling in the late 1990s and early 2000s; not that their predecessors had been drug-free saints.
Hamilton will always deserve plaudits for his contrition, confessing to one of the most extraordinary stories of the sporting age.
With the help of co-author Daniel Coyle, his descriptions of the doping process, avoiding detection and minimising "glowtime" with "Edgar" - cycling rhyming slang for Edgar Allan Poe, EPO - are compelling.
My favourite yarn involves avoiding incriminating searches for "Edgar" by recruiting Philippe, known as "Motoman" to have a thermos of the juice ready and waiting on the back of a motorcycle if they called his pre-paid cellphone. It reads like a John le Carre novel, especially when the net tightens.
Hamilton's story was the definitive indictment on the Armstrong myth and played a pivotal role in cutting the cheat down.
The tome won the William Hill Sports Book of The Year in 2012, and will win over your curiosity as you pedal through the pages.
Wood has had some other golden spells in his career, but nothing quite like this.