Finland 

Rough-and-Tumble in the Helsinki Hills

The 1926 Finnish Championships kicked off in May with the cross-country skirmish in Helsinki. In those unvarnished days, "cross-country" meant exactly that: none of your manicured park runs, but a proper slog. Near the site of the present-day Olympic Stadium, our stout-hearted heroes bullocked their way up steep inclines and hurtled down the other side, navigating a treacherous sea of metre-thick boulders. Paavo Nurmi, exhibiting his customary clinical detachment, strolled to his fourth victory, duly taking his place at the summit of the Finnish all-time cross-country standings.

Yrjölä’s Two-Day Masterclass

The festivities resumed in July at the Papula ground in Viipuri, featuring a programme of the 25,000 metres, the steeplechase, and the decathlon. Under a benevolent sky, some four thousand spectators wedged themselves into the stands to witness the spectacle.

Paavo Yrjölä, the strapping tiller of the soil from Hämeenkyrö, hammered out a world record of 7820.93 points (on the 1920 tables). The future Olympic champion harvested his usual bumper crop of points from the throwing circles: the brass shot was propelled to 13.97 (45-10), the platter to 37.31 (122-4), and the stick to 56.70 (186-0). He even glided over 1.85 (6 feet 0⅞) in the high jump – hardly surprising that this robust yeoman occasionally dabbled in the specialist jumping events to see how far he could ascend without the undignified aid of a pole.

The second day of his record-breaking odyssey began in fine fettle. Yrjölä capered over the 110m hurdles in 16.9 – mind you, this was back when the hurdles were stiff enough to fight back, as the "collapsible" variety didn't arrive until the thirties. The officials, perhaps feeling a touch of patriotic fervour, initially massaged the arithmetic by using unrounded figures, briefly crediting him with 7831.03. By the time the record books were dusted off, the rules of the era shaved his time to 17.0 and his total to 7820.93.

To top it off, modern-day statistical pedants have discovered a typo in the 1920 tables, meaning Yrjölä was actually swindled out of one additional point. Regardless of how one juggled the ledger, Harold Osborn’s previous world mark had been comprehensively toppled by over a hundred points. Yrjölä, however, remained characteristically unimpressed. "The record will improve yet," he drily informed the Helsingin Sanomat newspaper after the dust had settled.

Steeplechase Supremacy

The steeplechase provided what was arguably the finest scrap of the 1926 season. Elias Katz, a man who had already tasted glory in the Paris team races, scorched the turf in 9:34.5, narrowly missing an unofficial world record. Chugging along in his wake for the lesser medallions were the Tampere Pyrintö big guns, Eero Berg and Erkki Peltonen. With this trio occupying the top three spots in the world rankings, the steeplechase sceptre remained firmly bolted to Finnish soil.

The main course of the championships took place in mid-August at Pyynikki in Tampere. 

The undisputed magpie of the 1926 Games was Yrjölä; not content with his decathlon world record, he bagged the shot put title and snared second in the high jump. Not to be outdone in the sweat department, Erik Åström pilfered the winner’s trophies in both the 200 and 400, adding a third-place finish in the 100 for good measure.

Nurmi Snares a Double

After a two-year hiatus, the "King of Runners" himself, Paavo Nurmi, deigned to grace the Finnish Championships with his presence. Despite allegedly suffering from the dreaded "over-training," the man from Turku clocked a world-class 14:48.3 in the 5000. Nurmi launched his trademark Virén-esque assault with a kilometre to go, only to find an unexpected shadow in Armas Kinnunen. The Central Finnish kilometre-eater had flogged himself to a state of skeletal leanness just to stay in the hunt. "The man is clinical," muttered the stands as Kinnunen clung like a limpet to Nurmi’s heels until the final straight, losing by a mere whisker. One suspects, however, that Nurmi was merely pottering about at three-quarter throttle.

Kinnunen eventually settled for third in the 1926 world rankings, tucked in behind Nurmi and Ville Ritola. The trio would meet again two years later in Amsterdam, where Kinnunen was relegated to sixth while Ritola and Nurmi settled their differences with rather more venom.

A single title in Tampere was evidently insufficient for Nurmi’s appetite. He materialised on the starting line for the 10,000 the following day, where "The Black Ghost" cantered to a processional victory in just over 31 minutes.

A Sergeant’s Moment of Madness In the 800 

Bruno Alajääski, a non-commissioned officer from Hamina, probably suffered a sudden bout of audacity. He employed what we might now call the Rudisha Gambit: bolting from the gun and refusing to be caught. His winning mark of 1:56.5 sat a tantalising 0.2 seconds outside Nurmi’s official national record. To be fair, Eino Borg (Purje) had ripped through a 1:55.6 the previous year, but such feats were deemed "unofficial" in the fractured landscape of post-Civil War Finnish athletics. For Alajääski, it was a magnificent flash in the pan; he would never again find his way onto a podium of such standing.

Several stars of the Paris Olympiad appeared to be enjoying a rather extended fallow year. Antwerp Olympic champion Vilho Tuulos, competing on his home turf, could only scramble to second in the triple jump and third in the long jump. His hop, step, and jump of 14.49 (47-6½) was a full metre shy of his usual aerobatics. Tuulos was duly scalded by Erkki Järvinen – brother of the Lahti ski-magnate Esko – who nicked his solitary national title with a world-sixth-best leap of 14.59 (47-10¼).

Fresh Blood in the Spear-Chucking Department 

A changing of the guard was afoot in the javelin. Of the squad that monopolised the top four spots at the 1920 Antwerp Games, only the 30-year-old Paavo Johansson remained to thump the turf for a silver medal. The first sign of the coming Los Angeles "triple-threat" appeared in the form of 19-year-old Eino Penttilä. In his very first outing with the 800-gram stick, the lad clobbered the field to take the win.

Erik Wilén, who over a long career amassed enough medals to sink a small rowing boat, secured his fourth consecutive hurdling double. The youngsters were beginning to clamber onto the furniture, however; the 28-year-old Wilén only just managed to squash the 19-year-old future world-record holder Bengt Sjöstedt by a paltry 20 centimetres. The officials bellowed a winning time of 15.5, but the record-keepers refused to ink it in, citing a rather too enthusiastic tailwind.

Meanwhile, Martti Jukola, who would later find fame warbling sports reports over the wireless, spent his 1926 season in peak condition, though he was forced to settle for his fourth straight silver in the 400m hurdles. He registered a personal best of 56.0, later whittling it down to 55.4.

In a turn of events that surely left the traditionalists choking on their tea, the Kaleva Bowl was lugged off to the offices of Akilles Porvoo for the first and only time. This statistical quirk was explained by the fact that cycling results were – for reasons known only to the committee – included in the club standings. In terms of actual track and field, the Porvoo contingent had only the future European bronze medalist John “Joppe” Lindroth to thank for their solitary gold in the pole vault.