Beginnings
If you’ve read many essays here in “Our America”, you’ll know that I spent a big portion of my life as a track coach. I kind of fell into that. I was done with track when I started student teaching at Watkins Memorial High School back in 1978. But I learned a quick lesson about public school teaching in those first weeks. If you want a job, you’ve got to offer more than “just” a classroom teacher. My mentors, Bob Cramer and Gary Madden, suggested that I help out with an extra-curricular program in order to “enhance” my resume.
I ran track, freshmen through senior in high school, and my freshman year in college. But my interest in politics and off-campus study moved me off the team. When I started at Watkins, it was two years since I’d been on a track. But it was late winter – the kids were practicing track in the hallway down by the cafeteria. The track coach, John McGowan, had sixty boys and with only himself and Bob as the coaches. So I wandered down to watch some sprint starts after school. The blocks were bolted to a big piece of plywood and set on a mat on the tile floor.
A little technical detail: the better your sprint start out of blocks, the closer you are to falling on your face. I watched the kids, and decided to “show-em” by taking one myself. There’s an art to sprinting on tile – even back in my high school, the halls we practiced in the were carpeted. So I took my typical “power” start – it was always one of my strengths. Two steps out — and I fell flat on my face. Getting traction on tiles just isn’t the same.
And that was “the test” with the 1978 track team. When I laughed at myself as hard as they laughed at me – the kids knew that I wasn’t too “stuck-up” from Denison University. I got back in the blocks and tried it again – modifying my drive to stay on my feet. And then we had a few short races to see who was fastest. I was about two years older than the seniors – and still had my “track speed”. So we were soon good.
Career Choices
I had no idea at the time that track and field would be such an important part of my life. In fact, I really didn’t think teaching would be my life. Law school, political campaigns, getting back to Washington DC were all my goals at the time. Teaching and coaching was fun, exciting, and fulfilling, but not really on my career trajectory.
But that spring of 1978 I got to know John McGowan. John knew a lot about track and field, in fact I was always amazed how he could move from one event to another with technical insight to help kids. And he did that a lot: John coached all the events but the throws (shot and discus) when I started. But more importantly, John knew about kids. He was able to reach them, to find out what motivated them, and to make them feel important, whether they were the best on the team, or just better than they were the day before.
I joined John and Bob as the unofficial sprint/hurdle coach for the ’78 season. And by the time May rolled around and I was ready to graduate from Denison myself, teaching and coaching were definitely an option.
I “crossed the stage” at Denison, and went back to Cincinnati to work on a political campaign. We lost the primary in June, and I decided not to go to law school right away. When Pete Nix, then the intimidating Principal of the high school called and offered me a job, I decided to take a year and teach at Watkins.
That year stretched into two and then three. John retired as the track coach, but remained as cross country coach. And I joined him in the woods and learned about a whole new world of athletic competition, cross country running. That was something I had little experience with. Running distance for me was always punishment. I was that kid who would think about quitting when I was told to run two miles, but had no problem running sixteen 220’s in a row (that’s two miles by the way). It was all about sprinting.
Family
And those years with John and Bob framed my entire coaching philosophy. It was about caring for the kids as much as the performances. The cross country and track teams became families: that had fun, worked hard, they got in trouble, and always fought to achieve. That’s a powerful combination: family and competition. It pulled us all along through the years of the kids’ high school careers, and the decades of coaching.
I fell in love with two sports, cross country, and track all over again. That was all forty-three years ago.
I left coaching track and field after the 2017 season. For a year I stayed away almost completely; going to a few meets and helping out, but giving the team and coaches some space to build their own family. Two years ago I decided to take up officiating track and Cross Country again (I let my license lapse back in 2000). Officiating isn’t the same as coaching. Your role is that of the neutral arbiter, providing the opportunity for fair competition. As vocal as a coach as I was (and I definitely was) I try to be a quiet official. I’m not “the show”, I’m just the person making things happen efficiently and fairly.
And as far as Watkins is concerned – it’s been four years. There’s no kids left who knew me as a coach. Most on the team just think I’m another old “official dude” with a loud gun, if they know me at all. Of course the coaches know me, some I coached myself, some I worked with for decades. But I don’t have a problem “officiating” fairly – that’s what I do, and that’s what those coaches, my friends, expect.
But I will say – seeing teams that are families – Watkins or otherwise – reminds me of why I coached in the first place. Last night was a long one, a “tri-meet” that went almost four hours. I fired so many “blanks” from the starting pistol my hands were darkened with gunpowder. My ears are still ringing as I write this morning. But out on the track you could feel the camaraderie, the family, from all three teams. It reminded me of why I stayed for so long, and what was so special about life “on the track”.
It’s weird to be an “observer” rather than a “participant”, and sometimes hard to keep my mouth shut. But it’s good to be “home”.
