In the spring of 1979, I had this unfair, disappointing, totally wrong official call against me in a preliminary race at the Baltimore City Championships.
An official said I intentionally threw an elbow at one of my opponents in the final turn of a preliminary 3000m run, and I was banned from competing in the Baltimore City Championship final in that -- my best -- event. True, my opponent and I had bumped into each other in the final turn, but runners actually bump into each other a lot in races. This past weekend a runner at the NCAA cross country meet was actually tripped then kicked in the face!
Nothing like that happened in my Baltimore City prelim race in 1979. My opponent and I inadvertently bumped, and it had no impact on the outcome of the race as my opponent not only won the race but also, when my coach and I appealed the decision, my opponent did not even remember us touching each other. The only other time I have ever seen runners disqualified for bumping is when a fight actually broke out on the track.
But I was disqualified for supposedly throwing an elbow.
And to this day, I still feel the disappointment of that day in my bones -- 37 years later. I cried all the way home in my coaches car. The only other time I remember crying that hard as a child was when my grandmother died when I was 10.
To me this race was more than just a chance for the city title. To me, racing in the Baltimore City Championship was my chance to prove to myself and others that I was a good athlete. It was supposed to be my personal validation.
I was what we call a "late bloomer". When I was a freshman in high school I was one of those boys who did not weigh 100 pounds yet. In the spring of 1979 -- my junior year -- I still was quite small as my weight on my first drivers license said 122.
My family had moved around a bit when I was young finally settling in Baltimore. I started attending a private school where the major spring sport was Lacrosse. I was actually pretty good at picking up the stick handling aspect of Lacrosse, but I was far behind the other boys in my class in understanding the game and way behind the best athletes in my class when coaches factored in physical maturity.
Luckily for me, our school Athletic Director, Pieter Desmit, worried about guys and girls who were sitting on the bench like me, and he decided to start a spring track program.
My first track coach, Gerald Russell, had been an elite High School sprinter, went on to be an SEC champion at Auburn University and -- most amazing to me -- could dunk a basketball behind his head at 5'7" in height. He was finishing his degree at Morgan State University when he became my first track coach.
Gerald had his hands full as he had to coach all the events. We typically did the same workout every day -- 12 times 400 meters with a 400 meter walk recovery. He knew that I needed to get some distance runs in too, and he convinced me that spring of 1979 to run 5 miles before school as often as I could. I ran a lot of these runs with my neighbor Tommy August. To this day, I am still amazed that I was able to handle this level of work. But what was especially amazing was how my body changed that spring. I got much much fitter than I had ever been in the past.
Early that spring I ran a 3000m run at a meet and after the race, Gerald showed me my race broken down into 400m segments (or what track folks call splits). He told me if I would just run a little slower in the first half of the race, I would have more energy for the end of the race and might win.
The next race, I tried to intentionally run slower in the first half of the race and something amazing happened. I started passing the field in the second half of the race as my opponents started slowing and I started winning races.
My Personal Bests for both 3000m and 1500m seemed to improve by 10 - 15 seconds every week and for the first time I was going to get a chance to run in the Baltimore City Championship.
In that preliminary race, I settled back in the field early and waited until about halfway to make my move. I again passed the field and took the lead with about 2 laps to go. One boy from Lake Clifton High School came back on me and on that final turn as he passed me, we bumped -- and bump is probably too strong a word -- maybe more like grazed.
He passed me, and I finished a close second. As I caught my breath beyond the finish line, I remember an official pointing towards where I was standing and saying disqualification. Having never seen or heard of anyone ever being disqualified from a race like mine and not thinking I had done anything remotely wrong, I actually thought the official was just joking around with other officials -- or at the very least they were not referring to me. As I left the infield, my coach congratulated me and it was not until the finalists for the race were announced that we realized something was wrong.
My coach went to the lead official to find out why I had not been announced among the finalists and that is when we heard about the ruling. Our failed effort to appeal followed and the impact of the decision against me hit me as we walked to my coaches car at the end of the day. And that is where the disappointment hit me. This meet was the culminating event for athletes in the city of Baltimore in 1979, and I would not be allowed to run my strongest event.
Had all that work gone to waste?
As you can probably tell, the disappointment and feeling of being cheated still sits inside me somewhere today.
However, here are things that happened to me that spring as a result of pursuing that goal of running in the finals of the Baltimore City Championship that I did not realize at that moment.
I made a huge physical transformation. Things I never thought I could possibly do -- like run under 5 minutes for the mile -- I now could do.
I learned better than in any other way in school what doing my very best meant. I had totally underestimated myself up to that point. I now realized like in no other way in school that I had a lot of potential and if I really put my mind to something and worked hard I could accomplish much more than I thought.
I also learned I loved to run and running became for the next 30 years an essential part of who I was. It allowed me to be a college athlete. It allowed me to have some of the best friends anyone would want. It allowed me to travel, go places, and participate in events I never thought I would. It allowed me to support a number of people who became college athletes, state champions and even start an athlete on his journey to eventually becoming a sub 4 minute miler. It allowed me to meet some of the most interesting dedicated people I could ever imagine.
It also made me understand that disappointment has a purpose in life.
As coaches, teachers and parents, I think we all talk a good game about managing disappointment, unfairness, and failure. The psychologist Angela Duckworth has made a career out of the term Grit which she defines as "perseverance and passion for long term goals." Clearly to develop Grit, you have to learn to manage a lot of disappointment, failure and even some unfairness.
So its ironic to me that as I write this post, lawyers, a judge and representatives from the Illinois High School Association (IHSA), Fenwick High School and Plainfield North High School are gathering at the Daly Center in downtown Chicago to decide the outcome of a high school football game.
The Fenwick vs. Plainfield North State Semi-Final Football game was decided on an officials call that everyone admits now was wrong. If you are reading this from outside Illinois here is a link to the details of this case Fenwick Football Game Raises Issues of Sportsmanship and Ethics -- Chicago Tribune.
As I sit here writing I am actually following the Twitter handle of Sun Times journalist Michael O'Brien who is actually in the courtroom following the proceedings.
One side of me agrees completely with Fenwick. Given the circumstances, the team, school and community were treated unfairly. The game should have ended at the end of regulation and Fenwick should be playing in the state championship game.
But my other side says, if the judge decides for Fenwick, that would be terrible for high school sports. I have seen lots of games, meets, matches decided by poor officials decisions. Never one arguably as important as this one. But we teach our athletes to respect officials and their decisions -- even when they are wrong. The implications of ruling for Fenwick will lead to less respect for officials, the potential for more games being decided in the courtroom not on the fields and gyms and ultimately less emphasis on the educational side of sport and more emphasis on winning at all costs.
Games, meets, and matches are never perfectly run or officiated, and we all agree to that when we sign up for them. We agree to take the chance that in playing them we could become champions, but we also take the chance that we might be driven home in our coaches car crying from disappointment. Certainly, I hope that everyone has that chance to celebrate their hard work, dedication and perseverance and get the validation championships can bring. But for me, the worst moment in my athletic life -- although it didn't bring validation -- it did open up realizations about myself that I continue to profit from today.
No comments:
Post a Comment