Fear and Loving at EIU

As you read this I'll be reveling amid the mass celebration that is the 116th boys state track and field championships at Eastern Illinois University in downstate Charleston.

I wasn't always a reveler. I've grown to be one.

Early in my Daily Herald tenure I shared a prep baseball beat in the spring. Due to superiors' understandable desire to get the most bang for the human resources buck we spread out and I was reassigned solo gigs first covering girls soccer and next spring, in 2001, boys track.

It felt initially like my heart had been sucked from my chest. Baseball - the national pastime - was my sport. A catcher from Little League through high school, I knew how to call a game, knew all the stats, could bounce a bat on the ground and catch it after its 360-degree revolution, and owned every Topps complete set dating to 1971.

The first track meet I covered, as a green stringer, had been the first I ever attended - the 1995 state meet. Yikes. From the relative safety of the O'Brien Stadium press box I beheld the terrifying spectacle below.

What appeared to be thousands of athletes jogged on the blue oval, grunted in the shot put rings, disappeared into the field house behind the stadium's visitors' bleachers, flung themselves over high bars on these long pole thingies, grunted some more in a field over thataway at the discus cages. No coaches to direct/protect me. Might as well cover a bee hive. I was in way over my head. Where was the caber toss?

Back then media coffers were full. Several friendly Daily Herald staffers were on hand to dial my spinning head the right direction. Fortunately my responsibilities were slim - follow Burlington Central. That provided plenty for my debut considering the Rockets won the Class A 400-meter relay and took third in the 800 relay paced by individual 100 and 200 titlist Joe Hosey.

I love prep sports in large part because it's young athletes trying their best, but at first I was extremely wary covering track and field full time. I had no experience, no interest, no knowledge of the sport, as I told anyone who would listen. Bottom line, I was scared.

Track has since evolved to become my favorite sport to cover, the state meet the highlight of my academic calendar.

Rather, I have since evolved to embrace it. There are so many reasons I'll probably miss some.

Sportsmanship and character are near or at the top. When at this year's Peterson Prep Invite an athlete taunted another, Kaneland coach Eric Baron said it was the first time in his 30 years involved in track and field he'd seen anything like that. Rather than being assessed a 15-yard penalty, after a long officials' meeting in which the aggressor himself was part of the discussion, he was suspended from the meet.

Sportsmanship in track is to the point where not only rival athletes support each other and swap congrats after races, but coaches encourage opponents. A pole vault coach from one school will give advice to a vaulter from another school.

Remember this when your favorite basketball player is on the foul line and the other team's coach shouts "Box out!" upon delivery.

Sportsmanship in track extends into the stands, where often the trouble begin.

I've seen some great moments in several sports over the years. What really gave me goose pimples happened one year in Charleston. The exhausted last-place finisher in the Class A 3,200 run - basically the slowest athlete over the two-day event - stumbled and fell three, four times over the last 100 meters.

Like a slow-moving wave from one end of the grandstand to the other, by the time the runner crossed the finish line the entire crowd was on its feet, applauding a boy who didn't quit when even his body told him to. We'd witnessed a scene with Zen-like ramifications: There is always more within.

Crash and burn in the hurdles? Even if you're the favorite, get up, cross that line and you're no bum. You're a winner, the crowd will tell you.

Nearly each of the 18 outdoor events has its own strategy, its own technique. That's another neat thing - from the track to the vault to the jumps to the throws the reporter isn't rooted to a seat but can move around and even mingle with the athletes.

Personalities within the events often vary. The sprinter is typically different from the distance runner. The shot putter is typically different from the hurdler. The pole vaulter, so I've been told, is just different.

Track offers crackling excitement many times over. It tingles over the track, across the infield and through the stands focused by the still hush that hangs between "on your marks" and the starter's gun firing. The discus thrower coils and visualizes perfection as he stares into space - then explodes into a whirlwind.

Probably the main factor promoting the conversion from track dissenter to buff was the coaches themselves. Gentlemen, is the word that comes to mind (I cover mainly boys track), who take pleasure in welcoming newcomers. They smile while sincerely considering yet another ignorant question that, even when answered, unravels another intriguing mystery.

Smiling is common in track and field. Chest-beating hot-doggery is not.

You hear the term, "personal best" a lot covering this sport. I can relate. Each time out, every situation, that's the aspiration. It rarely works but that's the goal.

Soon will be the first track event on a new day here in Charleston, the 3,200-meter relay. Fans roar as the teams sprint like stampeding stallions from check-in, tall, strong, heads up and knees high. They turn and trot back to the starting line with all their dreams ahead.