Eric Henry Liddell, the second son of a Church of Scotland missionary, the Reverend James Dunlop Liddell, was born on January 16, 1902, in the north-eastern mainland city, but was sent for his education as a boarder at Eltham College near London, still some time and distance from Scotland, the country he was to represent with great distinction, not just in one sport but in two - athletics and rugby union.

It was 1920, when he went up to the University of Edinburgh to read for a Bachelor of Science degree in pure science that he first set foot on Scottish soil, but the laboratory was not to be Liddell's stage, his passion for religion and a natural ability in sport were to be his not-inconsiderable spheres of influence.

At university, it was at rugby union that he first excelled, representing Scotland seven times as a flying winger between 1921 and 1923, only once on the losing side.

But it was Liddell's remarkable pace that drew him to athletics.

A short and middle-distance athlete of great ability, he knew, even back in those Corinthian, innocent days of sport, that he would have to choose - and sprinting won.

'Today, he would never have got close to an international cap and vest in two sports,' speculates veteran Scottish sports historian Bob Crampsey. 'But back then, it was not unusual, so perhaps Liddell's instinct to specialise was prescient.'

Liddell was selected for the Great Britain team for the Paris Olympics in July 1924 and was among the favourites for the 100m gold, but his faith came before his favouritism.

On learning that the 100m heats were scheduled for a Sunday, the highly principled Scot withdrew immediately and spent the day preaching at the Church of Scotland ministry in Paris as his arch-rival, Englishman Harold Abrahams, took the gold medal that might have been his.

Liddell's stance was pilloried by members of the press, some even accusing the Scot of being 'a traitor to King and country', although that was about to change in rapid order.

Liddell, who took bronze in the 200m, was considered an adequate but far from world-class 440 yards performer. But Great Britain officials persuaded the Olympic authorities to take the unprecedented step of allowing him the opportunity to go for gold in the one-lap race.

His date with destiny finally came on Saturday, July 12, 1924 - the place the Olympic Stadium in Paris, the occasion the VIII Olympiad, the final of the men's 400 metres which some observers considered Liddell had no sporting or ethical right to be in.

Having trained for the 100m and 200m, the 'Flying Scotsman' was seen as a rank outsider.

On the day of the 400m race, just as Liddell approached the starting blocks, an American masseur handed him a piece of paper with a quotation from 1 Samuel 2:30. Liddell ran with that piece of paper in his hand

In his inimitable style, starting without starting blocks, digging footholds in the cinder track instead, his head bobbing and tilted, some said 'towards heaven', arms thrashing, legs pumping on the Parisian circuit, substance over style, he broke not only the opposition but also the world and Olympic record, finishing five metres ahead of his closest rival, the American favourite Horatio Fitch, with a time of 47.6 seconds.

The Times of London chronicled his feat the following day, reporting: 'Sweeping round into the straight, Liddell led by four or five yards and increased his lead by a couple of yards more in the home run, no-one ever looked like catching him.

'When the time was given out at 47.6 seconds, and it was realised the world's record had been lowered, the stadium went insane'.

Liddell's religious response was, 'He who honours me, I will honour,' and, 'The secret of my success is that over the 400m, I run the first 200m as hard as I can. Then, for the second 200m, with God's help, I run faster.'

But within a year, his athletics career was over, almost before it had begun, and Scottish athletics historian and writer Doug Gillon said: 'Liddell could clearly have gone on longer, given what we see today, but his retirement was in keeping with the culture of his era'.

After graduating, Liddell returned to China, a two-week journey on the Trans-Siberian Railway, following in his father's footsteps to work as a missionary in the country of his birth, and during his first furlough in 1932 he was ordained as a minister. He married Florence Mackenzie, of Canadian missionary parentage, in Tientsin in 1934.

They subsequently had three daughters; Patricia, who lived in England, Heather and Maureen both emigrated to Canada.

During this time Liddell continued to compete sporadically.

He had victories over members of the 1928 French and Japanese Olympic teams in the 200 and 400 metres at the South Manchurian Railway celebrations in China in 1928 and a victory at the 1930 North China championships.

In December 1937, Liddell boarded a boat to make the 10-day journey to Siao Chang where he stayed in the mission compound he had once lived in as a small boy when his parents ministered in the area.

The Chinese called him by the same name they had once called his father{sbquo} Li Mu Shi. Li was a shortened form of his last name and Mu Shi was the Chinese term for 'pastor'.

Siao Chang was the centre for missionary activity in the surrounding area of over 10,000 villages, the erstwhile Olympic champion travelling from village to village by bicycle with his interpreter, Wang Feng-chou, encouraging the Chinese Christians and holding evangelistic meetings.

By 1943, as the increasingly bitter battle between China and Japan intensified, and having sent his family to safety in Canada - they were never to see him again.

Liddell was one of several Britons and Americans arrested and incarcerated in a Japanese internment camp in Weifang.

The following year, having been elected as camp maths teacher and sports instructor by fellow inmates, Liddell's health deteriorated, severe headaches were diagnosed as a brain tumour and on 21 February 1945, he collapsed and died, his last reported words to the camp nurse tending him: 'It's complete surrender [to God].'

Dead in the country of his birth at the age of 43.

Liddell's final resting place was marked by a simple wooden cross, his name etched in boot polish.

Liddell's grave was rediscovered decades later after the gravedigger was tracked down; a stone of Scottish granite was commissioned by Edinburgh University and erected in 1991.

A link between the 1924 Paris Olympics and this year's Beijing Games was established last year when a British Olympic Association (BOA) delegation, including performance director Sir Clive Woodward attended a wreath-laying ceremony in Weishien.

Chinese officials related previously unknown details of Liddell's refusal of repatriation in favour of a pregnant woman and revealed rumours of Sir Winston Churchill's attempts to secure the Scotsman's release. Eric Henry Liddell was to fall from the national and international consciousness until his memory was revived, largely thanks to Sir David Puttnam's 1981 Academy Award-winning film Chariots of Fire.

With Ian Charleson playing Liddell and Ben Cross his English opponent Harold Abrahams, the 1981 film, part fact, part artistic license, brought Liddell back to life, while broadcaster and journalist Sally Magnusson, who had done her thesis on Liddell at the University of Edinburgh, Liddell's alma mater, wrote Flying Scotsman, considered the seminal work on the subject.

Magnusson's biography searched for flaws in the Scotsman's seemingly irreproachable character.

'I happened on a disillusioning eye-witness account of the behaviour of some missionaries in the Japanese internment camp where Liddell spent the last months of his life - tempers lost, and heavy moralising, exclusiveness and selfishness,' she recalled, adding: 'The author scarcely had a good word to say for anyone, least of all the Protestant Christians [and] then I turned the page and found this:

''It is rare indeed when anyone has the good fortune to meet a saint, but he comes as close as anyone I have ever known.'

'Of course, he was talking about Eric Liddell.'

Magnusson also said, of his belated stardom and fame arising out of Chariots of Fire: 'The first to remind us would be Eric Liddell, who would curl up with embarrassment at the very idea of being the subject of a book or film.'

The chief executive of the Eric Liddell Centre in Edinburgh, Bob Rendall, says of the man's legacy: 'The Eric Liddell Centre is a living memorial to a great man, encouraging lifelong commitment, expressing loving Christianity, extending local care. He would have approved, I'm sure.'

Eighty-four years on from Eric Henry Liddell's exploits and an Olympic movement widely considered bloated and banal, as the Olympic Games head to the country of Liddell's birth and demise, one is left wondering whether this man of principle might not be turning in his grave at the very prospect of drugs, Tibet, corruption, pollution, and the blue riband 100m final on a Saturday.