Winning
Two weeks ago, on Saturday, March 7th, my team performed extremely well at the Charger Invite held at the University of Illinois. I heard no one say the word “corona” or “pandemic”.
Two days later on Monday, March 9th, I told my team, “Our season could end at any time. Every day is a gift.” Things happened fast.
I was re-born as a coach this year. For the first time in 39 years, I went to practice with the energy of someone who had not taught chemistry to 140 students from 7:05 until 2:10. My team was young and talented. My team inspired me.
On Thursday, March 12th, the IHSA canceled the state basketball tournament. Someone posted, “This is like WW2”. No, it’s not. The state tournament was not canceled during WW2. The IHSA has crowned a basketball state champion every year since 1908.
On Friday, March 13th, my friend Devan McConnell posted pictures of a large crowd at a Trader Joe’s commenting that the shelves were half empty. If the situation wasn’t already freakishly surreal, the REM song, “IT’S THE END OF THE WORLD AS WE KNOW IT” played as people stocked up for the pandemic.
On that same day, Friday the 13th, we canceled our beloved @Pntrack Invite scheduled for the next day. My team posed for the annual team picture. We wore black and prepared for the worst.
My team held the best intrasquad meet I could ever imagine on Saturday, March 14, exactly one week ago. Before the competition began, I met with the combined sprinters and distance crew. I taught them about graph extrapolation and the oncoming pandemic. I told them to expect the worst, hope for the best, and not to listen to those calling it a hoax.
I have not seen my team since the intrasquad meet held on Saturday, March 14. They attended school on Monday, March 16th for the last time. As of now we are out of school until April 6th. If you are informed, you know that hope of a return on April 6th is a pipe dream.
Just two weeks after a normal Saturday in the life of a track coach, the world is no longer the world I’ve lived in for 61 years. A tsunami will hit our hospitals soon. 627 died yesterday in Italy. It’s the end of the world as we know it. The next line in the REM song… “And I feel fine.”
We are wired to quickly adapt to new realities. After terrible calamities, our brain (if it’s functioning well), will recalibrate to feeling a “seven” on a scale of ten. The band played as the Titanic sunk. This is neither good nor bad, it’s just a survival mechanism. I wrote about it at the end of Through My Lens 2019.
Well, this uplifting article has not started out like I had planned. I let my articles write themselves, then I try to edit the dumb stuff out.
People Remember How They Felt
I’m a story teller.
I try to tell stories when I do public speaking. I once heard someone say, “Your audience probably won’t remember much of what you said, but they will remember how they felt.” I try to end my speaking gigs with a story making people feel something.
30 minutes before the start of our @Pntrack Indoor Invite, I address every coach and athlete for about five minutes. I stand on top of the judges stand looking down on a crowd of hundreds of people. I tell a story or two that makes the competitors feel something. We perform better when we feel something.
The following is a story I’ve told for 18 years.
IHSA Girls State Meet 2002
I’ve never officially coached a girl. Once in my 39 years, a girl named Kaci Pilcher practiced with my Harrisburg boys team (1999-2000). In Illinois, boys and girls teams are segregated. I’ve never attended the IHSA girls state meet.
The stories of track and field do not require you to be in attendance. You don’t even need to to see the video. The story is all you need.
Lindsay Zeiler was a phenom of small school distance running in Illinois. Lindsay ran at Massac County H.S. in Metropolis. Metropolis is on the Ohio River, a couple minutes from Paducah, KY.
Lindsay Zeiler burst onto the Illinois track scene when she won the Class A 3200 (two class system) as a freshman in 1999. She then won gold as a sophomore in the 1600.
Enter Sarah Selby from Shelbyville (yes, Selby from Shelbyville). Sarah Selby was one year behind Lindsay Zeiler. Like Zeiler, Selby won state championships as a freshman and a sophomore (both in the 3200). Selby was also a cross country star placing 1st, 2nd, and 1st at the Class A IHSA State Cross Country Meet in her first three years of high school.
The stage was set for a showdown in 2002 between the senior, Lindsey Zeiler, and the junior, Sarah Selby in both the 3200 and 1600.
In the 3200, Zeiler won (11:02.91) and Selby placed 2nd (11:08.87). Selby had won the event the year before, with Zeiler placing 2nd.
People wondered if Selby would get revenge in the 1600.
Things got interesting.
Three runners separated themselves from the pack with one lap to go, Zeiler, Selby, and Princeton’s Rebekah Faber. With 300m to go, Sarah Selby got tripped-up and went down, hard.
Within nanoseconds, Lindsey Zeiler stopped.
Lindsay Zeiler went back and made sure Sarah Selby ok. I don’t know if anything was said, but in my mind, Lindsay Zeiler said “LET’S GO!”.
Les Winkeler who later wrote the story of this race said, “Only after Zeiler learned Selby was not injured did she resume the race.”
The story gets even better. Lindsey Zeiler sprinted to regain the lead and win the race as the crowd gave her a standing ovation.
When asked why she went back to pick up Selby, Zeiler said, “You’d always regret it if you didn’t do that.”
Winning means different things to different people.
Epilogue
The moral of the story is clear. When someone falls, pick them up. Love one another, even your opponents.
I go back to what I said earlier. People might forget the details of an event but they will never forget how you made them feel. Lindsay Zeiler made thousands people feel something special.
As long as people like me tell Lindsay’s story, it will continue to make people feel something special.
Here’s something else. The fact that Lindsay Zeiler won the race is significant.
They say, “History is written by the victors.”
I like to say, “Winning gives a story wings.”
The most influential people in our lives are winners.
Winning allows your story to be told.
In track and in life… be a kind, loving, compassionate person.
And, be a winner.
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By Tony Holler
tony.holler@yahoo.com
I’d like to give special credit to an old friend, Les Winkeler, a retired sports writer from the Southern Illinoisan (Carbondale’s newspaper). Les and I don’t always agree on everything but we are both huge fans of singer-songwriter John Prine. I saw John Prine (age-73) at Ravinia last summer and he was terrific. Les saw him in Atlanta. Prine’s a cancer survivor and last week his wife, Fiona, tested positive for the corona virus.
I have told the story of Lindsay Zeiler for 18 years. She may not even remember me. Ironically, I had not read the article written by Les Winkeler since May 22, 2002. With the magic of the internet, I re-read it last night.
LES WINKELER: LINDSAY ZEILER’S BIGGEST VICTORY WAS HER SPORTSMANSHIP
Lindsay Zeiler ran at Southeast Missouri State. She currently ranks #3 all-time for SEMO in the 1500 (4:28.24). Ironically Lindsay’s teammate at SEMO was Kaci Pilcher, the girl that trained with my Harrisburg boys in 1999 and 2000.
