Just like I begin every practice I coach, let me tell you a story. (If I never coached you, you should probably skip this story, as it will seem insignificant and trite.)
In 2002, St. Alexander started the season with one of the strongest track teams I had ever seen. We had won the small school division every year since they began counting small school points in 1999, but this was our chance to beat even the 200 man team of St. Joan of Arc, who had won every year since 1986. In 2001, we trailed St. Joan by just 14 points. In 2002, it was our turn.
Then it rained. And rained. 3 of the first 4 meets were soaked.
The Qualifying Meet was stormed out and was re-run on Mothers’ Day. We were disciplined - our kids showed up almost to a man, without complaint. The other Qualifying Meet was not run on Sunday and their meet was held during the week, allowing some teams to place kids in the finals who would not have otherwise advanced. On top of that, some talented kids from other schools who would have helped spread out the points in the JV where we were weaker did not show. The effects of St. A’s training usually showed by 7th and 8th and we were not as strong in those 5th and 6th grade teams. We needed help spreading the points, but wouldn’t get any.
As a result, at the halfway point of the Championship Meet, we trailed St. Michael by 225 points. When I heard the scores announced on the PA, I called the varsity together. St. Mike’s had a strong varsity. This was a chance to show our humility and sportsmanship, and I told the 7th and 8th graders to congratulate the athletes and coaches from St. Mike’s if they held on to win, which they likely would with a lead that big. I distinctly remember saying that we will still give it our best shot, but..... And I was interrupted, which these kids never did. They were very well disciplined and suprisingly focused for 10-14 year olds.
We were standing in a large huddle and one of the Dettmans, I think it was Eric, looked me in the eye and said defiantly, “We’ll win. We’re still going to win.” I stopped talking. I can count points. 225! But the irritated vibe from my audience was unmistakable. Someone else (Tyszkiewicz? Zabel?) was equally offended: “You can’t say that. We’re coming back.” Johnny Reedy said something like, “We’ve worked so hard. How can you even say that?”
I got chills. I tried to say something else, stopped, and waved them off with a do-your-best, but words were done. They were already on fire and peeling off to their events.
It was like a storm. We swept event after event, going 1-2, or 3-5, and picking up points in events we had no business scoring in. The clap rang out all afternoon. It wasn’t even close. We won by 80.
We had 80-some kids on that team, which was pretty much every eligible kid in 5th through 8th. As would be statistically expected, most of the team was of average talent, with many of our kids - how should this be put today? - speed-challenged.
Yes, the Dettmans became high school All-Americans with Division I scholarships at Oregon. Zabel, Tyszkiewicz, Sherry, Karges, Vivona, Prentice, Rogers, Urie all were outstanding multi-sport high school varsity athletes. But an all-star team could never have won that meet. We won the St. A’s way - with discipline, character, and EVERY kid contributing. Our 8th graders led, and treated the slowest 5th grader with as much respect as they gave the kid whose 4 medals lay against his tie-dyed uniform. We won when we shouldn’t have won, because we came from an outstanding school that formed us to pursue excellence through hard work and selflessness. All the lessons of our character and faith formation were put into play, and we achieved what more gifted athletes with more resources couldn’t come close to accomplishing.
If St. Alexander School has to close down, I’ll still wear my tie-dye under my shirt when I coach a big meet at Montini. But it honestly hurts to think that another untalented 5th grader will never have the chance to pull on that tie-dyed shirt and hear 80 teammates rhythmically clap as the magic pushes that kid to go farther than they ever could on their own.
Here we are and the odds are again stacked way against us. Do we give up? Do we say, “Oh, the economy’s bad,” or “Right now, the demographics are against us.” Or do we go down fighting?
Or maybe, some of us get irritated, look straight into someone’s eye and say, “We’ll come back. We’ve worked too hard.”
Sometimes, I think the high school kids I’m coaching now wonder why I talk so much about St. A’s. You know why?
BECAUSE I’VE TAUGHT AND COACHED KIDS FOR ALMOST 30 YEARS AND I KNOW THE GREATNESS OF THIS PLACE! What we shared, I’m now old enough to appreciate how extraordinary it is. When I tell a story about leadership, I have to mention Alison Beranek, Raphael Garcia and Joe Callaghan. When I preach selflessness, I describe Meghan Gorski, or Mary Therese Krueger or Lance Sherry. When the boys think they’re tough, I’ll tell them about the pain tolerance of Emily Tauchen and the unrelenting work ethic of the great Betsy King, Mike Kostro, Matt Guertler and the Dettmans. When I talk about how hard work can change even those with no real talent, I tell them about Kelsey Unseth and the Gatto girls and the transforming power of a positive attitude. AND WHEN I TALK ABOUT TEAM AND LEADERSHIP, I ALWAYS PICTURE ST. ALEXANDER AT THE END OF THE YEAR, year after year when any parent would be proud to have a child associated with our team and our school.
I’ve never said this to you before, because I never wanted to present myself as a martyr, especially since I knew how much others had sacrificed for our school. Almost every year when I coached, I would put a large hole in my company’s and family’s financial bottom line, which got worse as I began to pay high school tuition. Since I expected so much from every one of you, I could never demand less from myself. I tried not to count the cost, but I was never oblivious to the effect on my family.
But then came those times, every year without fail, when I would be standing in the middle of the parking lot, and the athletes would take over. The girls would be doing the clap for the sprinting boys, and, as the noise echoed off the red bricks, it covered the blacktop like a warm blanket. Someone would yell out encouragement, which could barely be heard over the clap. As the faster boys finished, they would join in, still breathing hard. Two fast beats, one slow. LOUD until the very last struggling boy’s stride grew strong and he finished. In the middle of the din, I knew with certainty that this was where God wanted me to be. That any sacrifice was worth it, and this was the only place in the world I wanted to be, and that I loved it. It wasn’t just that I fed off all that energy, it was a gift from God that I could become close to so many outstanding boys and girls, interesting children I was fortunate enough to see grow into strong men and women.
No one can take away the bond we have in common. Just know that the overwhelming majority of you make me proud to have known you. It was a great honor to coach you, and I am grateful for the way you brought honor to our school, our families, our Church and Villa Park. If I contributed even a little to your growth into mature Christians, any sacrifice in time and money that any of us might have made was worth it.
At the going away party last year, I was caught off guard when one of the kids started the clap and the gym started echoing. The goosebumps went up on my arms again and I had to stand up to raise my hands to stop it or a few seconds later I would have started crying.
Because I knew what I would miss.
Let’s not let this die without a fight.
Pete Connelly
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