On Lance Armstrong coming out of retirement to race again
I should not judge Mr. Armstrong, but I cannot help but think, on the news that he will will race again, of A.E. Housman’s poem
The time you won your town the race
We chaired you through the market-place;
Man and boy stood cheering by,
And home we brought you shoulder-high.To-day, the road all runners come,
Shoulder-high we bring you home,
And set you at your threshold down,
Townsman of a stiller town.Smart lad, to slip betimes away
From fields where glory does not stay
And early though the laurel grows
It withers quicker than the rose.Eyes the shady night has shut
Cannot see the record cut,
And silence sounds no worse than cheers
After earth has stopped the ears:Now you will not swell the rout
Of lads that wore their honours out,
Runners whom renown outran
And the name died before the man.So set, before its echoes fade,
The fleet foot on the sill of shade,
And hold to the low lintel up
The still-defended challenge-cup.And round that early-laurelled head
Will flock to gaze the strengthless dead,
And find unwithered on its curls
The garland briefer than a girl’s.
Such a coincidence. That was one of the poems which struck me hard early on. In fact, I memorized it. There’s something to be said for “comeback kids,” but there’s also a lot to be said about those who stayed long after their skills had left the scene. We have some poignant pictures of people who stayed long after they should have “hung it up.” Guess we will wait and see. In addition to reading Houseman, look at Miniver Cheevy and Richard Corey. Forgot the authors, but the poetic pictures he painted have always remained. I enjoyed reading “Athlete” again and especially having it brought to my attention by one whom I so admire and love! ~dad