There were twelve heats in total, and Jesse Owens had the misfortune to be drawn in the last one, which was due to be run just before noon. With the second round of heats starting at three o’clock, Owens would have little time to take the forty-five-minute bus ride back to the village, eat his lunch and then return to the stadium. Owens sat in the warmth of the dressing room–there was no point in exposing himself to the somewhat autumnal conditions outside. There was a chilly wind blowing from the north-west, making the air feel cooler than its actual 18 degrees. While he waited, his coach, Larry Snyder, warned him about what reaction he might expect from the crowd. ‘Don’t let anything from the stands upset you,’ said Snyder. ‘Ignore the insults and you’ll be all right.’ Snyder’s hunch could not have been more wrong. When Owens entered the stadium, he was the subject of much good-natured curiosity. Although the Germans had had weeks of derogatory articles about der Neger forced on them by the Nazi press, they were fascinated by this man, who had performed astonishing feats on the other side of the world.
