Irish Ron Delany is an old-fashioned guy. He wears his black hair in a classic bartender's bob, and he figures that a foot race has only one purpose: to find out whether one man can run faster than another. The problem is not so simple as it seems. When the big winter track meets bring some of the best milers in the world to the tight-banked boards of Manhattan's Madison Square Garden, it is quite a trick just to find running room. Spikes slice close to bare shanks in the opening sprint for the pole; elbows have a habit of splaying...
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