Number 130

 Coach Stories

A few blog posts ago (AtRP #126), I wrote about my time as a member of the varsity swim team at Oberlin College, and how that experience proved to be surprisingly meaningful to me. If you remember, the encouragement of the coach was an important part of the story. He provided an environment that allowed me to to discover previously hidden reservoirs of grit and determination that I did not realize I possessed. That I lacked the the skills or abilities of a competitive swimmer when I started makes the whole experience even more special.

The first thing you'll probably notice about Dick Michaels when you meet him is his chin. He could probably cut glass with that sucker. The next thing you'll notice, if you spend a few minutes speaking with him is his relentlessly positive outlook on life. I'm sure he's had bad days, and I'm sure there have been times when he was angry or lost his temper, but in all the years I've known him, I've never seen any evidence of it. The other thing you'll quickly realize is that he has a wicked sense of humor. It's mellowed some as he's gotten older, but, back in the day, it had the potential to cut you as severely as his chin could. 

When I didn't swim up to my potential, he had this rare ability to cut me to the quick without making it feel like an attack. It was impossible to take anything he said to me - no matter how critical, scatological, or profane it may have been - personally. That he cared about me, and my development as a swimmer and a person, was never in doubt. He was just very good at relaying the truth in a very direct manner.

I don't remember the exact meet, but after posting a lousy time in some event, I walked over to him to check out my 'splits' (how fast I swam the individual laps), and all he said was: Boy! You swam like shit." Coming from someone else that might have felt like a personal attack, but from Coach it was just a succinct, but entirely accurate, assessment. "Yep, I sure did." was my response.

And here's the reason whyI knew it wasn't personal. I made a career out of coming in last place - even when I started to improve. But if I swam a good time (for myself), he was the first one to congratulate me with a beaming smile on his face.

There was about three or four of us during my time on the team. The circumstances that led us to the team were varied, but what we all had in common was our speed, or lack thereof. He called as his "mullets." When asked why, he would respond that it was because "mullets are worthless fish." He also referred to us as his "lane six swimmers." Lane six was the most outside lane in the pool. It's where the slowest swimmers hung out

Once, at the College of Wooster, he put me in the 500 free to see if I might have a future as a distance swimmer. I didn't. By the time I finished, it seemed like all the other swimmers had probably packed up and gone home. I stumbled out of the pool, breathing hard, and crawled (okay, walked), over to where Coach was sitting. Without looking up, all he said was, "We don't need to do that again."

Another time, after finishing last once again, Coach could sense I was discouraged. In his own inimitable fashion he put his arm around me and said: "You know, you swim faster than 97% of the rest of the people on this planet. You're just swimming against the 3%." Perhaps, by now, you understand why I considered this high praise.

When I graduated, he was the only faculty member who sought me out to offer congratulations.

In the early 1970's, with precious few opportunities for women to participate in varsity athletics, Coach was the men's cross-country coach. He was approached by a few female students who wanted to run with the team. During meets, they would run 'exhibition', which meant that their times would be unofficial, and not count towards the team's overall placement. Unfortunately, allowing women to participate on a 'men's' team was specifically prohibited by conference regulations. There came a meet where the neanderthal coach of one of the other teams took Coach to task for this egregious violation of the rules and told him, in no uncertain terms, not to let the women participate. They ran the race that day. As a result he was officially sanctioned by the conference, and instructed to stop allowing the women to run. He let them run anyway, and by the following year the prohibition against their participation was lifted.

I've heard Coach tell this story a few times. He always makes sure to mention the courage of the other folks involved - especially the women, but also their male teammates who supported them as team members. Tellingly, he is very modest about his role in the whole affair, despite the fact that his brave decision to do the right thing in the face of great pressure (and the 'rules'), is the point of the whole affair. It also gives you a critical insight into this man's character. He was never much interested in his own adulation - and he was a very accomplished athlete in his own right. What he thrived on was watching the young women and men he coached and taught get better and better - not just as athletes, but as whole human beings.

I love this man. I am beyond fortunate that he became a part of my life all those years ago.