the best laid plans

by John Linscott

‘Twas the night before Boston and all through the Pru,
The rumors were thick in the land of beef stew.
At noon on the morrow one would break the hex,
A runner would run-of the opposite sex.

A girl in the race? The thought troubled Jock’s slumber.
To add insult to injury-she would wear a number.
Jock was sworn by his name-just as firm as a rock,
“Nobody runs-’less they’re wearing a jock.”

Jock scanned all the entries, and medical checks,
Which attested to fitness, but not as to sex.
“Now what’s in a name? I’ll find one that fits her.”
He checked every name, but he missed one-K. Switzer.

A “K” could be a Karl, a Kurt, or a Kim.
This “K” stood for Kathrine, who’s a her, not a him.
So the plot has been hatched, now ’til noon we must wait
For the big confrontation-our sports Watergate.

On the 19th of April at Hopkinton High
The runners were dressed with one watchful eye.
They’d heard ’bout the girl, and read all the reports,
One had to be careful when changing his shorts.

But as the time passed, and the noon hour was nigh,
No runner appeared with a mascara’d eye,
Nor with legs that weren’t hairy, were slender, not bowed,
Yes, a female was rumored-but nobody showed.

Well, the gun it was fired, after all of the fuss,
Jock sighed with relief and mounted the bus.
“Thank God there’s no woman to mess up my race,
Imagine a runner in shorts hemmed with lace.”

But there in the pack with a shape and a curl,
Jock spied Miss K. Switzer and he cried, “It’s a girl!
They’re all right to dance with the Charleston or rumba,
But girls can’t run Boston while wearing a number.”

So he sprang from the bus to collar the phony,
As he leaped to the pavement from the grasp of Will Cloney,
He weaved through the pack like a hound on the hunt,
Now he grasps for her number-no, Jock!-not the front!

Now advancing towards Jock and before he could pull back,
Came a friend of fair Kathy, who was built like a fullback.
They met there at noon on the Marathon course,
The gritty old scot-the Immovable Force.

The damsel was saved, and she sped on her way
The Story’s been told and retold to this day.
And I heard Jock exclaim as she ran out of sight,
“I think I was hit-by a woman’s right.”