All About the W's

There was much talk about camaraderie at the National Senior Games, but, deep down, many athletes knew they came to Louisville for one reason: to win

The 2007 Summer National Senior Games, which took place from June 22 to July 7 in Louisville, Ky., was, as the Games always are, a sprawling, massive event.

With more than 12,000 athletes competing in 18 different sports across more than two weeks of competition, it is nearly impossible to wrap up the Senior Games in a neat little bow. There are almost as many visions of what the Games are and what they should be as there are competitors.

Even though the Games are open to men and women 50 and older, there's still plenty of room for a generation gap among the competitors. The two oldest athletes in the Games were 100 years old and the defining historical event of their youth was the end of World War I. The youngest competitors in the Games had just turned 50 and were about 13 years old when The Beatles broke up.

Some athletes played team sports. Other athletes competed in individual events. Some athletes competed in events such as the 10k road race or triathlon, where they broke a sweat underneath the Kentucky summer sun. Others played table tennis or shuffleboard indoors at the air conditioned Kentucky Exposition Center.

Many athletes were lucky enough to participate in the large majority of sports that ran smoothly. On the other hand, at least one sport was poorly organized with frequent scheduling snafus. (Sorry, racquetball players). Phil Godfrey, the National Senior Games Association's CEO, thought the Games were well organized enough that he announced the hiring of Ray Hoyt, the Louisville local organizing committee's executive director, to succeed the outgoing Greg Moore as the NSGA's director of national games.

Some athletes competing in the Games are among the finest Masters competitors in the world. Philippa Raschker, for instance, put on her usual stellar performance in track and field. She broke a world record during the Games in the women's 60-64 age group with a 1:06.69 in the 400 meters.

Graham Johnston, perhaps the most accomplished Masters swimmer of all time, also competed in Louisville, winning five gold medals. In an interview with the Louisville Courier-Journal during the Games, Johnston, 76, was quoted as giving what some saw as a backhanded compliment to the event. "This is a good program for people that are not highly qualified to swim in top competition," he told the newspaper. "It's a wonderful thing when you see these people here in their 60s, 70s, 80s and 90s -- they're all reasonably healthy and enjoying life."

There's nothing inaccurate in Johnston's comments, although he did acknowledge that the caliber of swimmers had increased markedly from previous Games. Not every athlete in the Games is a record-setting performer, and that is precisely the point. The goal, as Johnston seems to grasp, of the National Senior Games and the state and local senior games that are part of the overall movement, is to inspire fitness and healthy living by offering older athletes a venue in which to play their sport against others in their age group.

The point is that these men and women, whether they're world record holders or a guy in a wheelchair sternly competing in table tennis against able-bodied players, still relish stepping out onto a big stage -- and there are few bigger stages in Masters sports than the National Senior Games -- with a chance, even if it's only a slim chance, to kick someone's ass.

Robert Bergen wasn't shy about his objective in the National Senior Games. After winning the 40K cycling road race in men's 80-84 age group, he was asked to name his favorite thing about cycling. "Winning," he was quick to say. "I'm entered in four races here. I don't plan to go back with anything less than four golds."

Bergen, who lives in Spring Valley, Calif., backed up his boast, winning all four cycling events in his age group: the 5k and 10k time trials and the 20k and 40k road races. He wouldn't be content with just winning. "We have a saying in Norway," he said with a chuckle. "Winning isn't everything. It's also important to humiliate your opponents."

He may have been joking, but Bergen is plenty competitive. In the 40k road race, he was the only competitor in his age bracket to complete all 10 laps of the race at Louisville's leafy Cherokee Park. Because multiple age groups start the road race at the same time, race officials only allow cyclists to complete one more lap after the first person crosses the finish line. Despite racing with two age groups younger than his, Bergen had no problem completing the course. "I rode the big ring the whole time," said Bergen. "Even on the hills, it wasn't enough to switch off the big ring."

On the women's side, the racers were just as competitive. In one of the Games' tightest finishes in any event, Eleanor Hamre out-sprinted Patricia Beam and Charlene McMenamy in the final straightaway by fewer than two seconds to collect the gold medal in the 70-74 age bracket for the 40K road race. Hamre completed the course in 1:27:24.25. Beam finished in 1:27.25.24, while McMenamy registered a 1:27:25.83.

"All three of us were drafting and working together," said Hamre. "But I just love sprinting at the end. Getting up out of the saddle, you can really charge in. I didn't really feel I had the race until about 10 yards out."

Three men racing on foot and two decades older were just as competitive and just as evenly matched as this trio of cyclists. The men were racing in the 90-94 800-meter run, which was full of drama.

The suspense began when Daniel Bulkley of Phoenix, Ore., and Frederic Tompkins of Grand Junction, Colo., cornered leader James Hammond of Maple Grove, Minn., with 40 meters to go. All three men sprinted to the finish in unison and lunged at the tape. With only .37 seconds separating all three runners, Hammond came out victorious, edging out Bulkley by only .03 seconds. Hammond's time of 4:58.10 demolished the National Senior Games record of 5:22.78, set in 2003. "I thought Hammond went out too fast," Bulkley said. "I knew I couldn't jump him too soon. He's a sprinter and has a great kick."

Hammond sensed someone edging past him with about 50 meters to go. "As soon as he passed me I turned on the afterburners," said the 93-year-old Hammond.

The Games also spawned tremendous individual performances in team sports. No effort was more impressive than the show Edna Allen put on in the women's 65-69 3-on-3 basketball championship game. Her team, the Michigan Spirits, trailed 34-30 when timeout was called with 3:25 remaining. During the timeout the Spirits talked about their goal: gold.

"We've come too far to lose this thing," Allen, who lives in Detroit, told her teammates. As she had done the entire tournament, the 65-year-old Allen took the Spirits on her back and carried them. "I was more than a little tired," she said. "That is an understatement. I was a lot tired. I had to suck it up."

In the final three minutes of play, she didn't appear tired at all, outscoring the Albuquerque Foxtrotters 12-3 all by herself, mainly with strong inside moves. She tallied 38 points in the game. "She moves right, she moves left," marveled the Foxtrotters' Ginger Rich, who fouled out in the final minutes. Her absence weakened her team's strategy of double-teaming Allen. Palma Reed's short jump shot for the Michigan Spirits, which tied the game at 34-34, also helped open things up for Allen's domination in the paint in the final minutes.

"She's half the player she used to be before she had her knee operated on," said Cal Dilworth, the coach of the Spirits. In 2003, Allen had a total knee replacement. When asked if her surgeon advised her to give up basketball, she laughed. "His job is to fix me up so I can play," she said.

The basketball court provided redemption on the men's side of the draw in the 60-64 age group. The 'Bama Boys collected a bronze medal at the National Senior Games in 2003, and a disputed technical foul call in the gold medal game led to the team's settling for silver at the Games in 2005.

In Louisville, however, the 'Bama Boys finally got their gold medal by defeating the Texas Lonestars, 47-36. The win also punched the team's ticket to a pretty nice dinner back home in Alabama. "When we won the silver in Pittsburgh, the governor of Alabama told us if we got the gold, he would have us and our wives over for dinner in his mansion," said guard William Cope. "We're going to hold him to that."

The Lonestars could not hold down Cope, although a Texas player did run the guard over on a ball screen with 14 seconds left in the game. Cope hit the floor hard, but after rubbing it down, got back on his feet, then spent the final seconds of the game on the bench. He could add the hit to his growing list of injuries, including a massive cut below his left eye, a sore wrist, and a bad left knee.

On the floor, however, Cope looked like he was in mint condition. He led all players with 26 points, many coming on drives in which he would double-clutch his release in traffic, then scoop the ball beyond the reach of his much taller opponents. It was a move he said he perfected playing against more athletic college kids at the University of Alabama-Birmingham.

"This has been a total team effort," Cope was quick to point out afterward, not wanting to take the credit. "We also wanted to dedicate this win to one of our former teammates, Dolan Hartman, who we lost to colon cancer last year."

Not every remarkable win took place in a gold medal game. In table tennis, Jon Redman of Santa Fe, N.M., was credited with two wins in pool play in the men's 50-54 singles table tennis. One win was by default. The other Redman won in a head-to-head match while sitting in his wheelchair and competing against an able-bodied player. "The guy I beat was incredulous that he could lose to a guy in a wheelchair," Redman said. The win was no fluke. Redman won three straight games, 11-6, 11-6, 11-4.

He plays close to the table and has quick hands. He says his game can frustrate his opponents, because he's not high enough above the table to create spin. Other table tennis players are not used to the flat serves that Redman produces.

Redman broke his neck in a surfing accident at age 17. He began playing table tennis 12 years ago. He has become a top table tennis player in the United States in wheelchair events. Redman was not the only competitor at the Games in a wheelchair. At least one swimmer in the older age brackets was wheeled to the side of the pool before getting into the water to compete.

Beth Hanks, 91, took notice. Her daughter, Barb Richmond, brings Hanks to all her meets. The duo has now been to numerous National Senior Games, and Hanks went back to her hometown of Sebring, Ohio, with some more hardware. She won a gold medal and set a Games record in the 100-yard backstroke for 90- 94 swimmers with a time of 3:05.78. After she saw one competitor being wheeled into the pool from a wheelchair, Hanks said a wheelchair would not stop her either. "I plan on doing this until I die," she said. "I'm not gonna quit."

Bob Bailie is 71, and he, too, said he has no plans to stop swimming. For one thing, Bailie is good: He won five gold medals at the Games. But he'll tell you that the friendships he's made through Masters swimming are at least as important.

"Masters swimming is not like the kids," said Bailie, who lives in The Woodlands, Texas. "We're all friends. The young kids won't share their training methods. They're more secretive, but with us, there is a lot of camaraderie out here."

He wants to continue swimming until he's at least 100. "Picture eight guys on a starting block all in their hundreds," he said. "As long as I avoid getting hit by a truck, I plan on being there." And despite all his talk of camaraderie, you can bet he also plans on winning that race.

A growing sphere of influence

Pickleball, Europe want to be a part of the National Senior Games

The presence at the National Senior Games of representatives from Europe and the United States of America Pickleball Association showed the growing influence of the event.

Ton Kienhuis is the director of SportZeeland, an organization that produces sports events and tournaments. His organization rented a booth at the Games to promote an event, along the lines of the National Senior Games, in the Netherlands. The event, which Kienhuis hopes will attract athletes from 20 countries, mainly in Europe, will be held Sept. 7-12, 2009.

"The idea that an old person can be active hasn't kicked in (in Europe)," said Kienhuis, who expects as many as 4,000 athletes to compete in his senior event in 2009. Some sports that are more popular in Europe, such as soccer and field hockey, will likely be added to the roster of events. Kienhuis visited Louisville to take notes on how the National Senior Games Association has organized its own event. "This is an organization that put on a Games for 12,000 athletes," he said. "I think we can learn from them."

Nancy and David Jordan, board members of the USA Pickleball Association, were on hand at the National Senior Games to promote pickleball. The couple's ultimate goal was to generate enough interest to have the game with the funny name become a medal sport in the 2009 Games in San Francisco.

Pickleball is a racquet sport that borrows from badminton, paddle tennis and wiffleball, and it has experienced sudden growth at active adult communities and in senior athletic events. At the 2003 Huntsman World Senior Games in St. George, Utah, when pickleball was a demonstration sport, 49 people signed up to compete. At the 2005 games, 163 people registered.

The Jordans say the response by athletes at the National Senior Games was overwhelming. "We've had terrific response; we're averaging well over 50 new players a day (signing up to play on a court set up in the Kentucky Exposition Center)," said Nancy, who wears dangling pickle earrings.

--Sean Callahan

For the Record

Six age-group world records broken in Louisville

Robert Stewart of Virginia Beach, Va., broke two world records in the men's 95-99 age group at the National Senior Games in Louisville, Ky. He leaped 2.07 meters in the long jump for one world record, and he lobbed the shot 6.78 meters for the other apparent record.

We use the word "apparent" because the keeping of age-group world records, due in part to an arcane approval process, is often inconsistent and sometimes baffling. Case in point: Helen Beauchamp leaped 2.31 meters in the long jump. That jump appeared to eclipse the world record of 2.18 meters, but it didn't beat the U.S. national record, which is listed at 2.78 meters.

So, it's unclear whether these performances will ultimately be certified as world records; it nonetheless remains true that these were remarkable performances. And there were others.

Take Lillian Webb of Sebring, Fla., for example. In the women's 90-94 age group, she recorded a 1.52 meter leap in the long jump. She also posted a 1:17.85 time in the 200-meter dash. No current W90 world records are recorded in either of these events, so it appears that she now owns the age-group world record in long jump and 200-meter dash.

Bill Finch of Greenville, N.C., shattered the world record in the 1,500-meter run by more than 45 seconds in the 95-99 age group at the National Senior Games. He finished the race in 13:07.12, eclipsing the previous mark of 13:53.80.

Philippa Raschker of Marietta, Ga., broke the world record in the 400-meter run in the women's 60-64 age group with a time of 1:06.69, edging the previous record of 1:07.30. Raschker also ran faster than the current world record in the 100-meter dash, but the wind reading was too high, so the time won't count as an official world record.

In the University of Louisville's Ralph Wright Natatorium, 13 age-group national records were broken for short course yards during the Games. Dorothy Riordan, a legally-blind 95-year-old swimmer from Louisville, broke five of those records in the women's 95-99 age group.

First Person:  The view from the back of the pack

The thrill of running a personal best, the agony of still finishing in last place

By Jim Irish

Like Masters track superstar Philippa Raschker, I hate waiting to compete. With an hour or two to kill, I concoct nightmares in my mind. "Everyone is faster than you," a voice whispers in my ear. "You haven't trained enough. You don't belong here. You'll look like a fool. You'll injure yourself."

On and on, ad nauseam. I torture myself. No wonder athletes hire sports psychologists. Raschker, a 60-year-old woman with a sculpted body stuffed into a tiny two-piece spandex outfit, escapes this predicament by entering as many as nine events. She runs from one to another, winning most and typically throwing in a U.S. or world record for good measure.

Unfortunately, I, a mere mortal, am not as talented as she. I arrived at the National Senior Games in Louisville, Ky., scheduled to compete in the 400- and 800-meter runs in the men's 55-59 division. I decided to run only the 800 after figuring that I would not risk pulling my hamstring, which I had injured six months earlier in a local senior meet in South Carolina. I figured the 400 was too explosive a race; I would be less likely to pull it in the longer event.

This would be my first crack at the National Senior Games. I had done reasonably well at local and state meets. In Louisville, however, I considered myself a workhorse among thoroughbreds. My emphasis was on\ competing, not winning or even making the finals. No illusions. My goals were modest: stay injury free and clock a personal record.

As a sportswriter and editor for newspapers with 18 years' experience, I hired myself out as a freelancer for The State (Columbia, S.C.) newspaper, 60 miles from my town of North Augusta. Not only would I compete against the best seniors in the country, but I would also cover their exploits. On the morning of the 800, I covered the men's long jump in which a South Carolina athlete took fourth in the 55-59 division, barely missing the bronze.

The long jump finished at 1 p.m., and the 800 started at 2:30 p.m. An hour-and-a-half down time. An eternity. Unless I found something to occupy my mind, the demons would torment me into a drooling idiot. To escape the burning sun, I moved to a covered pavilion between the University of Louisville's track and baseball stadiums. Protected from the sun and cooled by a gentle breeze, I found a diversion.

Their names were Terry Reed and Dicky Morgan, and they were killing time, too. Both were entered in the 800 with me. Each told his story. A retired teacher with a full head of white hair, Reed hailed from Glasgow, Ky., 100 miles away. Pointing to one thigh, he said he was in considerable pain. I told him I saw a large bruise. He was not certain how it had happened. He would race, but he did not sound optimistic.

A loquacious Cajun from Lake Charles, La., Morgan owned a roofing company that could not keep up with the demand after Hurricane Katrina. Like Reed, Morgan had had his share of physical setbacks, including arthroscopic surgery on a knee in the recent past. As he rambled on, he lathered an overpowering liniment on both legs.

As we waited, Raschker blew away the field in the 100 meters, setting a wind-aided world record. The announcer finally called the 800 runners to report to the infield. The race would be divided into two heats. The only problem: my name was not listed in either heat. I almost panicked. Because I had a number, I was added to the second heat. But my name was not listed on the huge stadium scoreboard with the other runners and not announced over the public address system. I felt like a man without a state.

On the infield, I walked past Morgan and stopped short. His T-shirt was pockmarked with holes. I asked him about it, and he replied, "This is my most comfortable one." Image is not everything.

Morgan and Reed ran in the first heat, clocking 2:30 and 2:35, respectively. Despite their injuries, both had performed well. Now, it was my turn.

The second heat started at 3:30 p.m. By that time, I was as jumpy as a cat on a hot tin roof. Finally, the gun roared. We ran in our lanes through the first curve and then cut in. Adrenaline powered me forward. As I completed the first lap, I checked the running time on the scoreboard: 1:20. Not bad. The leaders were 10 seconds faster.

I wish I could say that I ran back-to-back 1:20s. On the second lap, the adrenaline vanished. My legs had weights strapped on them. I fought it to no avail. The one runner behind me moved up and passed me at the 500 mark. I could not hold him off. My tank was empty; I ran on fumes. Rounding the final turn with a sense of rigor mortis, I screamed to myself: just let me finish.

Somehow, I crossed the line in 2:55.24, a 13-second improvement over my previous best. I had not pulled my hamstring either. I should have been rejoicing, but I was disheartened. Out of a combined 20 runners in the two heats, I had the slowest time. Dead last.

Nevertheless, Anna, my 13-year-old daughter, smiled at me and announced, "Daddy, I'm so proud of you." After the race, I saw Morgan holding court among some of the 800-meter runners. Later, I ran into Reed at the nearby McDonald's, treating himself to ice cream.

My thoughts turned to the next National Senior Games in San Francisco. I only have to wait two years.