There are few athletic events that require as much sheer physical versatility as the decathlon.  It demands speed, strength, and endurance in relentless portions.  It stretches over ten events in two days and calls for some measure of Sergei Bubka, Willie Davenport, Al Oerter, Javier Sotomayor, Jim Ryun, and Carl Lewis to appear in the same person.  And few ever find that combination in high enough quantities to compete among the elite in the sport.

So, the men who compete for the Olympic gold medal in the decathlon share a remarkable kinship.  It is an exclusive club that draws its membership from all over the world.  In that sense, the decathlon tends to shrink the planet while cementing the ties formed between the competitors.  And it is the level of respect, the knowledge that few others truly understand the competitive will required to do what they do that forms this unique bond.

Perhaps, the strength of that connection was never made clearer than in two sweltering days during an Italian summer in 1960.

Houston-born Rafer Johnson was a remarkable athlete.  At 6'3", 200 pounds, he had enough speed and strength on the football field and enough agility and technique on the basketball court to attract the attention of UCLA.  However, this unique combination of talent also drew attention of UCLA's renowned track coach, Elvin "Ducky" Drake.  He knew Johnson could be an elite decathlon competitor, because the ten events that make up the decathlon (100-meter dash, long jump, shot put, high jump, 400-meter run, 110-meter high hurdles, discus, pole vault, javelin, and 1,500-meter run) all fit Johnson's athletic skills, except one.  The 1,500-meter run was a bad fit.  The muscle needed for many of the other events was just unwanted weight in an endurance test like the 1,500 meters, and, by being at the end of the grueling two-day competition, the race was made even more difficult by the utter level of fatigue that inevitably set in by then.  However, Johnson was so skilled at the other nine events that the 1,500 loomed as a factor only if someone could keep up with him up to that point.  And Drake was confident that few ever would.  

Taiwanese native C.K. Yang had no such similar athletic pedigree.  Yang was skinny and quick but seemed to lack the strength required for the decathlon.  His only real chance was to use his speed to build up enough points on the track  so that he could afford to give many of them back in the strength events like the shot put and discus.  Unlike Johnson, Yang needed the 1,500.  He needed that one last back-breaking endurance test to outlast the others.  Yang was relentless in his training and knew that if it came down to fatigue factors and mental toughness few others would be able to match him.  

Although the two men could not have appeared more different, they both wound up on the same track in California preparing for the 1960 Olympics.  Whereas Johnson had been sought by Drake, Yang was the one who sought the legendary UCLA coach.  Whatever the circumstances, as soon as Johnson and Yang started to train together, each found benefit in the constant competition. The constant drive to keep up with and try to surpass one another not only fueled their collective competitive spirit but also formed a solid friendship.  

And they would each need to lean on that competitive spirit and friendship, because the road to Rome and the Olympic decathlon title promised pain.  It would be a single linear path directly through athletic exhaustion and sacrifice.  If there was any let-up in preparing for those two days of competition or during any of the ten events themselves, those gold medal aspirations would simply evaporate.

Rafer Johnson knew all about that.  He had suffered an injury prior to the 1956 Olympics in Melbourne but still competed.  Without his full athletic arsenal, he finished second to fellow American Milt Campbell.  The Rome Olympics offered redemption, but C.K. Yang was now in the picture and promised as much competition as he could handle.

Once the 1960 Olympic decathlon began, Yang did not disappoint.  He used his speed and versatility to better Johnson in four of the first five events.  However, Johnson stayed close enough to his UCLA teammate in those four events that his single win in the shot put gave him the overall lead by 55 points at the end of the first day.

On the second day, Yang didn't let up.  He kept digging at Johnson's lead, but Johnson kept answering.  By the time the 1,500 loomed, Yang still trailed by 67 points and needed to beat Johnson's time in the race by 10 seconds to capture the gold.  However, the 1,500 was Johnson's worst event and the event that Ducky Drake feared the most with a gold medal hanging in the balance.  Conversely, Yang was right where he wanted to be.  The gold was within reach and the most difficult event of the competition challenged an exhausted field, an event in which the lightest and fastest competitors held a huge advantage.

In the fading Italian afternoon, Yang sprinted off, determined to make history.  He set a blistering pace with the clear intention of burning off what was left of Johnson's fading energy quickly and then simply running away from Johnson, who Yang hoped, by then, wouldn't have anything left to try to catch him.

Into the final lap, the strategy seemed to be working.   Johnson was fading.  Yang could see the gold medal taking shape.  If he could just hold out a little longer, just push himself to go a little faster, he could put Johnson away for good.  However, Yang's body was screaming with fatigue.  He needed one last push, one last burst to carry him forward.

And then it happened.

Johnson found the reserve some people can tap into when there should be none.  Magic fuel at the bottom of an empty tank.  Whether it is a champion's heart or simply the sheer force of will, the will to finish what one starts, Johnson found it in the twilight that day when he most needed it.  Yang seemed to find something extra as well.  However, Johnson had found it first and closed quickly on Yang.  As the two men raced down the stretch for the gold medal, Yang broke the tape first, but Johnson finished right on his heels, just 1.2 seconds behind.

Rafer Johnson won the gold medal in one of the Olympics' most grueling events, an event that spreads out over two days and ten events, by 8.8 seconds.  C.K. Yang took the silver but won the lasting respect of his good friend and chief rival as well as that of the sporting world of the day for his gutty, tireless performance in Rome.

Chuan-kwang "C.K." Yang, the relentless decathlon competitor, can finally rest.  He passed away on January 27.  He was 74.

If we are to remember anything about C.K. Yang, I think it would be fitting to remember that one moment in the early evening in Rome when he gave as much of himself as he possibly could in a race that cost him a gold medal but earned him a lifetime of respect.  

Sources:

http://www.time.com/time/magazine/article/0,9171,826653,00.html http://espn.go.com/sportscentury/features/00016405.html