The basic pristine spirit of track, the mano a mano, is what hooks trackheads in the first place and keeps bringing them back for more. You'll see thousands of them at the Penn Relays this week. If they had to, they would step over fallen idols to get to their seats. The talk in the stands will be more about speed afoot than the unnerving size of pectorals.
Track's allure is simple. There is something both magical and magnetic about two people in great shape flying stride by stride from point A to point B to answer a simple question.
"Growing up, you always know who's the fastest kid on the block," said Tim Hickey, Penn Relays high school chairman. "It's universal. You don't have to vote. There's no ump making a decision. You just line 'em up and see who's faster. Whoever gets to the line first is the best. I've always loved that."
It's easier to love when you get to the line first. Hickey, who is best known as the coach of great girls teams at both William Penn and West Catholic high schools, was a centerfielder on the Parker High baseball team in Indiana. He naturally gravitated toward track when he wasn't shagging flies.
"I liked baseball better at the time but I was a little bit better at track," said Hickey, who currently is an assistant coach at Swenson Arts and Technology in the Northeast. "I can't remember the first race I won but I can remember the first 400 I ran. I spilled my guts afterward.
"I got into the sport the same as others. I was the fastest kid in school."
Slow pokes lumber to the sport as well. Irish icon Marcus O'Sullivan lost some of his early races to lasses. The little tyke surprisingly began his career with reluctance on the Emerald Isle on the day his feet never touched the ground.
