The Right Call

55 Years of Track

I started running track and field in 1970.  In fact, I read “The Jesse Owens Story”, and found myself digging “starting holes” just like him, in the backyard.  It was only when I got on the old cinder track behind Van Buren Junior High School in Kettering, that I found out about starting blocks. (We had to make sure not to bruise our heels, driving the blocks into the cinders).  And my track obsession was set in stone when I got fifteen minutes with Mr. Owens himself as part of a Scout ceremony.  We talked about a lot of things, but in the end, we were two “220 guys” (that’s 200 meters today) talking track.  

I ran track in high school and college, and started coaching as I student-taught at Watkins.  All of that was half a century ago.  I was a track coach and a cross country coach.  But I also learned how to manage track and cross country invitationals.  In fact, at one point, I was managed one of the largest cross country meets in Ohio, and the largest District qualifying meet as well.

Managing

When I was running meets, the most basic ground rule was this: we run on time.  If a race was supposed to start at 9:00, 9:05 didn’t make it.  And that was almost always true – until it wasn’t.

Our cross country meet included running two miles on wooded paths.  That is the “essence” of the Watkins cross country course, what makes it special and different from almost every other course in the state.  There are great advantages:  a lot of shade, an entirely different competitive experience in the woods, the quiet in the far reaches, and the cheers as the athletes emerge from the trees.

But there is a big disadvantage.  When an athlete tripped up at the two mile mark and hurt his neck – about as far back in the woods as he could be – we had to get a medical transport to him.  Our local fire department were great, and brought their four wheel drive utility vehicle to the meet.  So we could get them back to the downed runner.  But it didn’t fit the time frame.  For the first time in my thirty-year run as meet manager I had to announce over our communications network:  “hold the race”.  It was the right call.

How big a deal was it?  We got seventeen minutes behind (I remember the exact number).  But we got the kid out, safely, maintaining head and neck control (he turned out just fine).  And we managed to catch up a few minutes on the rest of the day.  

Safety

And we never cancelled races – until we did.

It was the final race of the day in the McGowan meet, and a giant “reserve boys” race, was lined on the start line, ready to go.  But I looked at radar, then looked to the west.  A giant storm front was headed in, a black wall in the sky.  We could start, but, unlike track, we couldn’t get the runners safe mid-race.  We didn’t have thirty minutes to finish.  So I drove down to the starting line, and called the race together.  I apologized, I promised a future race, then I told them to head to their busses.  Ten minutes later, the storm broke with lightning, thunder, high winds and rain.  It was the right call.

I’m done with meet management these days.  I’m a track and cross country official, and a “meet worker” now.  Yesterday I was a “chute-gate” worker at the state athletic association sponsored “State Preview”.  The conditions were rough:  low ninety degrees, high humidity, and a course which is fast but out in the wide open the whole 5000 meters.  

Maximums

The first race went off on time at 9:00, and, like clockwork, the next two fired off as well.  But, as the third race was finishing, the problem was evident.  This meet had the biggest medical staff I’ve ever seen:  eighteen athletic trainers, six doctors, eight paramedics.  But as I looked over from my station, it was clear they were maxed out.  Several athletes were taken away by ambulance.  It wasn’t even noon, and there were races planned through 3:30.  

The meet manager made the call:  he cancelled the rest of the competition.  If that large medical staff couldn’t handle the load, certainly every additional race would just make things worse.  And if athletes, in this first competition of 2025, weren’t able to handle the heat, then, for their safety, we needed to stop.

It took almost an hour to clear out the medical tents.  Afterwards, social media voiced all the complaints.  There were the “back in my day” arguments, and the “should’ve cancelled yesterday” arguments, and the “I want my money back” arguments.  It’s easy to say “I told you so”, even if no one did tell anyone “so”.  

They cancelled the meet.  They did it for the safety of the kids.  It was the right call.