Sir Roger Bannister, the four minute mile great, dies.

Sir Roger Bannister, the four minute mile dies.

Sir Roger Bannister, who died this weekend, lived his life with the kind of dignity and humility that very few sportsmen could ever have hoped to match. Bannister came from an age of impeccable manners and chivalry, an athlete and middle distance runner of courtesy, kindness and generosity, a man who. on one windy day back in May 1954, broke the ultimate record, achieving greatness and uniqueness in a matter of seconds.

On 6 May 1954 on the Iffley Road track in Oxford, Bannister, all youthful zest and unparalleled modesty, broke the four minute mile. On reflection it seems the most unremarkable unachievement given the fact the record was shortly broken by the Australian runner John Landy. But taken in isolation Bannister's almost gallant exploits on the day are there to be commended for ever more.

For those of us who have only seen documentary footage of the day with the benefit of TV, it is hard to imagine what exactly must have been going through Bannister's mind. Here was a man ardently pursuing a career in medicine and yet, for one day only, his only overriding objective was to beat the stopwatch, creating in an instant one of those defining moments in sport, a record breaking moment to savour and recall with enormous pride.

 Now it was that  time seemed to stop, hanging around for a moment, pausing for a while before finally deciding that those who witnessed Bannister's victory would never ever forget where they were when they saw it. And yet Bannister was never one for hogging the headlines, seeking cheap publicity and above all making outlandish claims to being one of the greatest sportsmen of all time.

 Bannister was never one for egotistical boasts or pretentious posturing. He was never a show off or fancy dan, nor a notorious hell raiser. He took the excessive and well deserved praise quite literally in his elegant stride. It may have been 64 years ago but even in later years Bannister was never given to wild outbursts or controversial comments. From that distant day in 1954 Bannister gave well mannered lectures to both schools, colleges and universities, all the time accepting the kind words from those around him with a gracious chuckle and maybe a self conscious shrug.

And so back to the day itself in 1954 when three middle distance running maestros lined up on an athletics track in Oxford and dreamed the impossible dream. Roger Bannister, Chris Chataway and Chris Brasher were all well established and reputable middle distance runners of some note. The task was simple. Break the four minute mile and worldwide fame would be acknowledged on the spot. Miss out on the record and we could all forget about breaking records for a while at least.

But one man Roger Bannister knew that this had to be his date with destiny. He knew that if he broke the four minute mile, life would never be the same. Maybe he could, once and all, throw away his medical books, forget about the stethoscope for ever and concentrate on the exalted heights of  Olympic gold medal recognition.

The truth of course was that Bannister simply had a point to prove and  life as a hugely respected neurologist would hold far greater appeal. It hardly seemed possible but you could indeed combine the very different worlds of sport and medicine without batting an eyelid. And so it was that he would participate in one of the most enthralling middle distance races seen for many a year.

Tall, dashing and ramrod straight, Bannister leant forward at the starting line, brushed back the floppy hair trailing over his eyes and then just burst forward like the sprightliest of gazelles, striding towards the front majestically and then lengthening his stride with those long legs that seemed to go on for ever. He ran like the wind, increasing the blistering pace, timing his movement with perfect judgment and then launching the winning, lung busting run to the finishing line with almost superhuman acceleration.

What must have been going through the mind of that spellbound Oxford crowd that day? Were those academic students in the cloistered colleges of Oxford simply blown away by what they'd seen that day? Did they write up a stunning thesis about the human condition? Or maybe they were just delighted to tell their family and and friends that they were the ones who saw it all happen.

With barely a lap to go Bannister, glancing over his shoulder, must have privately thanked both Brasher and Chattaway for their significant role in the day. Both Brasher and Chattaway may have been sterling pace- makers but they had been wonderfully complicit in the most magnificent middle distance race they'd ever seen.

Faster and faster Bannister went until eventually he disappeared over the horizon and couldn't be overtaken because it was his day and his moment. On the final bend, Bannister kicked for home with the most powerful displays of sprint finishing. Moments later he hurled himself across the finishing line, face drained of any emotion, eyes shut in blissful contemplation and those streaks of hair dripping with sweat. Maybe his future would lie in neurology but a day in Oxford had been all about epic record breaking. The world of athletics would always appreciate the extraordinary feats of Sir Roger Bannister. A gentle gentleman of the track.