[nfbwatlk] Graham Salmon, blind athlete

[Alco Canfield]

A bit schmaltzy but good.  As someone who really hates exercise, I am
inspired, oh yes, but not changed.  (grin)

Alco

-----Original Message-----
From: nfbwatlk-bounces at nfbnet.org [mailto:nfbwatlk-bounces at nfbnet.org] On
Behalf Of Carl Jarvis
Sent: Sunday, September 02, 2007 11:18 AM
To: nfbw
Subject: [nfbwatlk] Graham Salmon, blind athlete

Today is the 29th anniversary of the following event.  I'm not able to find
Graham's birth or death, but he lived a remarkable life.  

Carl Jarvis 

Sunday, September 2          1978 Graham Salmon set the worlds record for
100 meters by a blind man   

CANCER destroyed Graham Salmon's right eye when he was a six-month-old baby;
it claimed his left eye a year later despite repeated blasts of radium to
save
what remained of his young sight. Surgeons were forced to remove his left
leg some four decades on when the termites renewed their insidious march
through
his body, swiftly spreading to his right leg and lung. Ten days ago the
disease finally took his life. Only towards the end, however, did it finally
succeed
in taking away 
Graham's indomitable will to live. 

"He was in terrible pain," explains Marie Salmon, immortalised in My Wife, a
track on a CD of songs Graham composed, produced and recorded earlier this
year while awaiting delivery of the artificial leg which would 
allow him to resume his sporting career. 

"He'd been fighting cancer for 46 years and he was simply too tired to go
on. The doctor told us it was terminal in August and Graham was desperate to
enjoy
one more Christmas and see in the millennium. But it wasn't to be." 

Graham's album was appropriately entitled Smile, and that is how I will
forever remember him, sitting on the sofa of his home in Loughton, Essex
with a
huge 1,000-megawatt smile on his face having reduced Phil the photographer
and myself to tears; tears of laughter, naturally, because Graham would have
been horrified to think anyone would shed tears of pity on his behalf. 

"Musically, I like to think I'm part Eric Clapton, part Mark Knopfler.
That's what I like to think, although maybe I'm tone deaf as well as blind."


Athletically, Graham was part Carl Lewis, part Dick Fosbury, part Tiger
Woods, part Franz Klammer, part Ian Botham. He regarded himself as an
athlete who
happened to be blind, not a blind athlete. When I first interviewed him in
January 1998, I described him thus: 

He wanted to be a runner, so he went out and broke the 100 and 400 metres
world records . . . he wanted to be an Olympian, so he skied for Britain in
the
inaugural Winter Paralympics . . . he wanted to play golf, so he became good
enough to beat the Americans at Wentworth in the Stewart Cup (the Ryder Cup
for the blind) . . . he wanted to be a cricketer, so he appeared in an
exhibition match at Lord's during the lunch interval of an England-Australia
Test
match . . . he wanted to master the Fosbury Flop, so he developed into an
international class high-jumper . . . he craved a new challenge, so he ran
in
- and completed - the London Marathon . . . he wanted to be an inspiration
to blind children, and achieved that by being awarded the MBE . . . and all
the while he wanted to go on playing football which he does with his nephew
in the back garden most weekends. ("I don't know what pleasure he gets from
beating me," grinned Graham mischievously. "Imagine telling your classmates
you play football against a 45-year-old one-legged blind man.") 

An avid sports fan from childhood, Graham attended a boarding school for the
blind - "even though my parents never, ever let me behave like a blind
child"
- where he felt a growing frustration. 

"When I left school, physically and mentally handicapped youngsters were
expected to throw bean-bags at one another for exercise. The whole thing was
a
joke in this country, a cruel joke. No-one had any idea what blind athletes
really wanted. During the first multi-disabled world championships at Stoke
Mandeville, the 100m was run on concrete which was bad enough. But when
you're trying to listen to the voice of your caller who's guiding you and
over
the Tannoy another voice suddenly booms: 'Will the competitors in the
paraplegic table-tennis competition please report to the main hall.' I don't
need
to tell you what happens. The 100m runners went hurtling all over the place
in different directions. Two nearly drowned in the steeplechase water-jump
as I recall." 

The hilarious disasters were followed by a succession of triumphs: 1980
Paralympics - 400m bronze; 1981 European Championships - 100m bronze, 400m
silver,
high-jump silver; 1983 European Championships - 400m gold; 1984 Paralympics
- 400m bronze; 1985 European Championships - 400m silver. He also set a
world
record of 11.4 sec for the 100m in 1983, established six world records over
400m, became the first blind golfer to shoot a hole-in-one in competition
during
the British Open (he turned to golf in 1987 when age, not blindness, began
to slow him down on the track) and more, much, much more besides. 

And just as he seldom lost in his pursuit of medals and records, so he never
lost his radiant smile no matter what agonies fate could dream up next. His
pile of scrapbooks of newspaper cuttings and photographs suggested he might
have put on a bit of weight in later years. "What are you implying?" he
demanded
in mock outrage. "I'm exactly the same weight today as I was back in '84 -
10.5 stones. I'm missing a leg, right enough, but my weight has remained
steady." 

Typically, when I named Graham Salmon my Sportsman of the Year last January,
he rang me up. "Are you sure I deserve it? What about Steve Redgrave or
Michael
Owen or Tim Henman?" 

Oh, no, Graham, you deserved it all right, for you touched the hearts of
everyone, even those who never had the joy of meeting you in person. Only
this
week I received the following letter from Mrs A Bennett of Coningsby,
Lincoln: "When your article on Graham Salmon was printed, I cut it out and
stuck
it to the fridge door with the words 'Whenever you feel fed up, read this. .
.' written at the top. I have since read it many times and Graham's sheer
courage moved me to tears always. How sad I was to hear that Graham had
died. Thank you for bringing him to my notice." 

There were tears among the packed congregation which attended Graham's
cremation in Harlow on Friday, but there were smiles, too. The service began
with
a recording of Graham playing one of his own compositions on the electric
piano, and closed with his favourite song, The Beatles singing Norwegian
Wood.
His beloved niece Tracy spoke of his many sporting triumphs but told us
Graham always considered his greatest achievement in life to be his marriage
to
Marie. His long-time guide on the athletics track, Roger Walker, said:
"Graham was not blind. . . because we all see with our minds and hearts." 

The last time we talked, Graham was as optimistic and defiant as ever
despite the effects of the latest round of chemotherapy and daily doses of
morphine
to lessen the pain. "I enjoy living so much I just can't wait to get back
out on the golf course again and feel the sun on my face and the breeze in
my
hair - if I have any by then. I love sport, and just like I've always done,
I'll make the most of the situation; make the most of what I've got - and a
bit more. I also want to finish my autobiography and record a follow-up CD."


Sadly, he was unable to accomplish either task. 

My thoughts are with Marie at this time but knowing Graham, I have no doubt
that whenever the ninth track on Smile comes on the CD player, he would want
her to do just that. . . 

I have climbed many mountains, reached many doors,
And she's always there to guide me;
She reaches out her hand, and touches my soul,
And she gives all her love to guide me;
Always there behind the scenes, never wanting the glory,
Hope she knows how much she means, without her there's no story;
Oh, my life, is my wife...



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