As if yesterday's piece by Mike Tymn were not enough to spoil you, we just received another story relating to Horatio Fitch. It is awe inspiring how these stories can stir the nether regions of one's brain to draw out things long forgotten from the past. This one comes to us from Russ Ebbetts.
Into My Office…
by Russ Ebbets
A long jumper, a javelin thrower and a coach walk into my office…there should be a joke there, but all I’ve got is my own little version of Ripley’s Believe it or Not!
The door to my office at Union was a funnel for a parade of alumni, prospects and suspects that all came with a story to tell in exchange for a moment of my time.
The “Marathoner from Miami” was a kid who wanted to come to college to run the marathon. He already had two under his belt with a PR of 3:06. Frank Shorter was his idol and he made it clear he was going to run the marathon. I told him the marathon wasn’t a college event and that there was strong evidence that running a marathon before physical maturity could hinder athletic development.
“But,” his mother added, “my son is a marathoner.” It sounded more like a learning disability than a mark of distinction. I was getting nowhere with this pair. I thanked them for making the visit, they left and I dropped the athletic questionnaire in the waste basket.
In the early 80’s track on TV was a more regular event. One indoor season produced a series of great mile races between Eamonn Coughlan and Steve Scott. Coughlan’s clever tactics produced three great wins that highlighted the indoor season and inspired countless people. “I saw the milers on TV Saturday,” began the Pit, “it looks pretty easy, it looks like fun,” then he dropped the clincher, “I think I can beat them.”
The Pit had black hair, stood about 5’10” and was a fat 170 pounds. The Pit couldn’t beat an egg. But what I remember most about the Pit was his eyes. There was a complete vacancy to his stare. He spoke like a drone. There was an uneasy feeling in my stomach. I had heard enough. I wrote down directions for his physical, practice times and told him to show up when he’s been cleared to run. I never saw him again but for the longest time I found myself checking the rooftops for snipers.
It seems “The Miler” was making a career out of college. He would surface every few years take a few courses and then disappear. All the while he’d tell anyone who would listen that he’d run a sub-four minute mile. The problem was no one ever saw him run a step. His previous incarnation was during NCAA Champ Kevin Scheuer’s era. Mention this guy to Kevin and he’ll spit.
But there was a flip side too. Stan Gasorowski coached at Albany High. One day he gave me a call. “I gotta guy you gotta see…” he began. Periodically I’d sneak one of the top local kids into the Field House to train. “He’s a long jumper.” I’m thinking Stan’s got a kid doing 21’-22’. “Russ, I know this is going to sound strange but,” I’d known Stan for over a decade. He is a solid, no BS guy. “Russ, the guy jumped 26’4” in our pit the other day.”
Downhill? Wind aided? Twenty-six feet is still twenty-six feet. I paused a moment. What could I say? Then Stan added, very sheepishly, “Russ, he really jumped 27’4” but if I tell you that I’m afraid that you’ll think I’m crazy.”
I was trying to process this. “Stan, do you realize what you are saying?” And before he could answer I added, “That is what Carl Lewis is jumping.” All Stan could say was, “I know.” And then he added that 27’4” would be the fourth longest jump in the world last year. He had looked it up in Track and Field News. I told Stan I’d like to meet the guy. The guy was named Mike Fields. He looked like Willie Banks. He came to the Field House, warmed up and jumped. He ran down the runway with an arm action that was too high, steps that were too long and he jumped 25’6” with a 10-step approach. He said his foot hurt. He didn’t want to jump again. I saw what I needed to see.
This guy was more than a diamond in the rough. This guy was history, as in “make history.” I looked at Stan and said, “We gotta talk.” Fields was interested in college. He’d jumped 21’ in high school, grew six inches since graduation three years ago and wanted to know if I could help him.
I wondered where he would fit in. Fields had his own concerns. He wore a gold neck chain that was thicker than a finger. I wondered more. Fields was a professional gambler. In his own brilliance he’d learned how to write a tip sheet for the California horse tracks which he sent daily over the wire to racetracks in California. Gambling and the NCAA don’t mix.
Nonetheless word got out. Florida State called, then Texas and UCLA. The questions were always the same, “Did you see…?” or “Is this guy for real?” All I could say was what I saw. The guy jumped 25’ and change on a 10-step approach. Even on a bad day that is an NCAA Division 1 All-American. Fields never pursued his talent. I still wonder.
And there were always the calls out of the blue regarding using the track, getting into a meet or finding a competition. Gary Cudmore of Amsterdam HS called, said he had a foreign exchange student and could this student see me? The javelin is not a regularly contested event in New York State high schools. The kid showed up with his host mother. The mother did the talking, the kid only spoke broken English. It was quickly apparent that all the mother knew about the javelin was that it was thrown. I explained the NYSHS situation, mentioned some clinics Tommi might attend and told her I would make a call on their behalf to Kevin McGill, one of the top throws experts in America, then at Columbia University.
“By the way, how far does Tommi throw?” The mother didn’t know. She asked Tommi. He pulled a thin, glossy covered magazine from his duffle bag. His picture was on the cover, he stood at the center of a podium, arms raised and a gold medal around his neck. The caption was in a foreign language I couldn’t read but I did notice the “73m” in the title. Seventy-three meters. It took a minute for me to translate the metric into English. My hammer thrower was throwing 60 meters which was about 190’, a meter is 10% longer than a yard…I ran the numbers through my head and figured this kid was throwing close to 240’. That was close to the US national high school record.
I called McGill. I said, “Kevin, you are not going to believe this…” Every fall Iona College held clinics and competitions for the throwers. We arranged for Tommi to make the trip down. He set the clinic on its ear. McGill still talks about Tommi Viskari. The perfect form, the powerful arm, the blast off the right foot. The kid was videotaped like a movie star. Later that fall Tommi set the US National High School record for the international weight javelin that still stands. You can look it up. His name is on the same list with Jim Ryun, Rudy Chapa, Gerry Lindgren and Renaldo Nehemiah.
Tommi Viskari, Amsterdam, NY, 241’11”. (Editor’s note – Viskari’s record was broken in 2010 by Sam Crouser from Gresham, Oregon)
But the man I remember most was Paul Sweet. Tall and almost gaunt Paul entered my office with a regal carriage that belied his 85+ years of age. I had no idea who he was. I had never heard of him. Paul introduced himself and asked if I had the time to talk a few minutes. We talked. He was the track coach for the University of New Hampshire for over 60 years. He’d recently retired and was now living in Scotia, NY. Towards the end of the conversation he invited me to his house for dinner. A free meal is a free meal. I accepted. That three-hour visit has become one of the most fascinating evenings of my life. Initially we spoke about how training has changed. The useful “old methods” were reviewed and the new innovations that have revolutionized the sport were discussed at length. Then he got out the scrapbooks.
Paul had scrapbooks dating from the 1920’s. His UNH teams had upwards of 120 members. He pointed with his finger and named runner after runner as if he’d coached them yesterday. Of particular note was an athlete named Morcom. Boo Morcom and another teammate once won the IC4A Trach Championships by themselves. I remembered reading about this two man "team” in Ripley’s Believe it or Not. Paul provided the details.
Paul also coached Jeff Bannister, one of the top US decathletes in the late 60’s. For some reason a picture from Track and Field News of Bannister (about 6’6”) towering over Bennett (about 5’8”) has always stuck in my mind. I asked Paul what he did when he was an athlete. He had a scrapbook for that too.
Paul ran for the University of Illinois. He had a picture of a relay team, all smiles, standing with a coach, all hands on a baton. He told me his coach’s name was Harry Gill. It didn’t register for a second, then it did.
“Harry Gill of Gill Hurdles?” He smiled and said yes. The Gill Equipment Company had been one of the major suppliers of track and field equipment in America since the 1920’s. He turned the page. He told me, “This was my best day,” and pointed to a yellowed slip of newsprint with the title, ‘Illinois Quartet Sets World Record in Relay.’ I read on with great interest.
At the Drake Relays Paul had anchored the University of Illinois 4x110 relay to a world record. I couldn’t believe it. “Notre Dame was there,” he said, “guess who was their coach?” I had no idea. I thought a moment and still had no idea. I threw out the only name I could think of, Knute Rockne. “You’re right.” This was getting weird. He asked if I’d finished reading the article. I read on. After setting the world record in the 4x110 Paul and his teammates came back and set the collegiate and American record in the 4x220, missing the world record by 1/10 th second. Paul anchored.
Paul was scheduled to run the anchor leg on the 4x440 but strained his Achilles tendon and was replaced by a runner named Fitch. “Do you know who he was?” I had no idea, not even a guess. “Did you see Chariots of Fire?” I had, but I still made no connections. Paul told me that Horatio Fitch had gotten second to Eric Liddell, the Scotsman in the 400m at the 1924 Paris Olympics.
Paul told me that in the “old days” one couldn’t coach and compete at the same time. That was considered professional. He had gotten married; a family was on the way and he’d been offered the coaching position at New Hampshire. A decision was made. He never said what I thought, but the hint that things would have been different in Paris hung heavily in the next moment’s silence. Paul stood straight against the indignities of old age with 60 years of scrapbooks and the memories they generated. I stood there thinking about Frost’s “The Road Not Taken” and marveled at how strange history can be.
Russ Ebbets has taught in the USATF Coaching Education for over 35 years, speaking at Level 1, 2 and 3 schools and the High Performance Summits on distance running. He has served as the US National Team chiropractor to three IAAF World Championships. His documentation and standards of care for on-site sports chiropractic have been adopted nationally. He has directed complimentary chiropractic care at over 250 events, 25 national championships and overseen thetreatment of some 15,000 athletes at events ranging from local 5k's to Friehofer's Run for Women, Utica's Boilermaker and the Millrose Games at Madison Square Garden. Since 1999 he has been editor of Track Coach, the technical journal of USATF. Track Coach enjoys a worldwide circulation and is seen as one of the leading training journals of the sport. Ebbets has lectured throughout the USA, in Canada, Scandinavia and the Caribbean. Since the fall of 1983 he has contributed regularly to Pace Setter Magazine with his Off The Road column.
Wonderful story by Russ Ebbets. All of us have had such kids come in, some imposters, some talented. My best two gifts were Lewis Johnson (1:47.00) who stopped by one day and said he wanted to be on the team. Another was Rodney Johnson (7' 3") my first year whose HS did not offer T&F but was very talented and is now an actor in Hollywood. A third was James White (6' 10-3.4" and 25' 7-1/2") who was also a basketball player who wanted to be the first NBA player to win the 3-point and slam dunk contest. That never happened but he did win the Drake Relays LJ one year. Bill Schnier
