As Ron Delany runs, the spike-scarred boards of Madison Square Garden's track curl out eleven uneventful laps to the mile. Other athletes strain to feel the thin snap of the finish tape; Delany beats them to it with deceptive ease. In the mile run at the Knights of Columbus games last week, the pale, frail-looking Irishman loafed through the first 8½ laps as if lazing along the banks of the Liffey back home. He stayed an easy third; suddenly, almost imperceptibly, he moved to second, then, with a lap and a half to go. he dug in. In that brief suggestion...
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