Dog's meddling in race a lifelong memory: A 1946 track meet comes alive again for retirees at breakfast

By David Filkins

May 27, 2008 (McClatchy-Tribune Regional News delivered by Newstex) -- ALBANY -- This is a story about a track meet, a dog and a lot of blood. It's about memories and photographs and aging and reliving the old days with old friends. It's about the passage of time and the things that stick with you.

The men who come to the Best of Times Breakfast no longer wear jerseys or run track or play football. Argyle sweaters and broken strides are more common nowadays. For much of the past 17 years, these retirees -- mostly former athletes at Capital Region high schools -- have met at the Capital OTB Tele-Theater on the third Tuesday of every month. They assemble over eggs and home fries to relive their golden years -- in high school sports, not retirement.

This month, they met again.

Don "Huck" Guiry, an 80-year-old former state trooper with white, slicked-back hair, came for the first time. He hadn't seen some in the group in 62 years.

When the 29 attendees took their seats, 78-year-old Bob Wygant, who organizes the breakfasts, stood behind Guiry and placed his hands on his shoulders.

Then Wygant told this story:

City track championship, Bleecker Stadium, 1946. Guiry, a senior at Christian Brothers Academy, is the defending champion in the quarter mile. He's the favorite again this year in a race that includes Wygant, a sophomore from Albany High who usually runs sprints but is in the quarter mile because a teammate is ill.

The gun goes off and Wygant runs to the front. His plan is to come out hard, take it easy on the backstretch, then hammer it home.

He's leading with 120 yards to go but he can hear footsteps. Someone is closing fast.

Guiry.

The champion also has a plan. He wants to hang back most of the race so the other runners forget about him. Then, when he comes off the final corner -- BAM!

Only 100 yards to go.

Guiry is passing Wygant.

The champ is going to repeat.

Suddenly, a dog runs from the bleachers and onto the track, right into Guiry's path.

He jumps.

The dog jumps.

They collide in midair.

Guiry flips and lands on the track. It's made of jagged chunks of cinder. He skids and rolls as his legs and arms are shredded.

Wygant wins.

CBA coaches carry Guiry to the locker room. They clean him with iodine and a bunch of "other crap" he can't identify.

Judges confer. They decide on a do-over.

Guiry says he can't run. Coaches say he has to. Dripping with blood, he hobbles to the starting line.

The gun fires.

He hangs back.

The final corner comes.

He runs faster.

He passes the other runners.

He passes Wygant.

He wins.

Guiry excused himself from the table when the laughter died down and walked slowly toward the exit. He fetched a cigarette from his pocket as he neared the front door. He continued talking about the race; about the blood and the iodine and how it was all over the place.

Then he stopped.

He rolled up his right pant leg and pointed to a patch of scars and bumps near his knee.

"You see that?" he said. "They didn't even get all the cinders out. It's still in my leg."

His story is about memories and photographs and aging and reliving old days with old friends. It's about the passage of time, and the things that stick with you. Filkins can be reached at 454-5456 or by e-mail at dfilkins@timesunion.com.

Newstex ID: KRTB-0007-25548629