I have been a fan of track and field for as long as I can remember. I wasn't always exposed to it on television because back in the day we used to consider ourselves lucky if we could even get a strong enough signal down there in Trelawny. So no, we never saw much on television, but with the help of Radio Jamaica, The Gleaner, the Daily News and my fertile imagination, it was exciting to visualise Donald Quarrie, Jackie Pusey, Lilieth Hodges and the other Jamaican track icons of the day competing against the best in the world.

I will never forget how excited I was when I read that Quarrie had won the 200-metre sprint in Montreal, after overcoming the disappointment of his shock defeat at the hands of Hasley Crawford a few days earlier. It had seemed like such a sure thing to me that the 100m was his for the taking.

Before then, I had been totally sold that Quarrie was by far the fastest man on the planet, thanks in part to Ernie Smith who sang, "Quarrie was a boy to I man last night, he couldn't follow, he couldn't follow me."

That song had me believing that if Smith was running faster than Quarrie, he had to be travelling almost at the speed of light.

The sport got even more exciting for me in the mid to late 80s when Ben Johnson, Carl Lewis, Raymond Stewart, Linford Christie, Leroy Burrell, Andre Cason, and a host of other talented sprinters would go head to head quite often. OK, some of these guys had drugs pouring out of them like size DD breasts oozing out of a C cup, but drugged-up or not, they sure made it interesting. And it wasn't that long ago that the greatest of all time, Maurice Green; Ato Boldon, Frankie Fredericks, and Marion's Jones' ex Tim Montgomery, had some memorable clashes.

What made it really interesting was that these guys went up against each other more often than not, and just the anticipation of a future clash made me suffer many a sleepless night as race day inched closer. Man, those were good times.

My love for track has not waned, well, maybe just a little. And here's why.

Asafa Powell is the only man to legally run under 9.80 seconds five times; yes, five times - 9.77s three times, 9.78s and 9.74s, the world record; and for more than a year he was unstoppable. So here comes Tyson Gay, who has never legally run faster than 9.84 but has had a couple of sub 9.80s, times aided by a stiff breeze, and for some reason, the two keep ducking each other like a guy trying to hide from the stalker chick down the road. This year, they might meet once before the Olympics in Beijing.

To many, the sport has become boring but I do believe that if Gay and Powell were to race each other, say, three or four times a year, I bet things would change in a hurry.

The funny thing is if they did compete more frequently they wouldn't have to ask for more money to meet, people would gladly pay to have them collide. If you ask me, it would even help Asafa get a more consistent feel of what it's like to be tested every time he steps on the track as opposed to what happens now where he competes only against the clock.

The 100m sprint is the marquee event of the sport but for the past few years it has not lived up to its place as the premier event of track and field. The fact that Gay and Powell really lack the type of personalities that stoke passions really doesn't help either.

A press conference with the two has as much drama as watching grass grow. And they're always so polite. At least Gatlin made it interesting and stirred debate when he used to call Asafa out. It's a pity he wasn't more careful about who was rubbing him down with unidentified 'creams'.

The sport needs some drama that does not involve BALCO and Marion Jones' crocodile tears. It needs a rivalry, the drama of the two fastest men of this generation going head to head. It doesn't matter who wins, though it would be sweet if the score was even at the end of the season.

Whatever it is, we just need Gay and Powell to go up against each other and not just at the major meets. Spare me the small talk about believing they can run faster or break the world record; spare me the diatribe about how great each thinks the other is. All I want is that they willingly step out there on the track a few times a year, line up and at the starter's gun, just run.

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