Coach Smith: Run So As to Win

I remember the day almost like it was yesterday.  It was the first day of practice during my 8^th grade year of cross country.  I was coming off a fairly promising 7^th grade year after making the varsity squad and was starting to learn the art of distance running.  That day, Coach Chris Smith told me to run with him.  He wanted to catch up on how my summer training had gone and pitch his vision for where he thought I could be by the end of the season.  It was just going to be an easy four miler and I was understandably excited that he wanted to run together.  After all, Coach was easy to get along with, easy to joke with, and always knew just how to motivate his athletes to reach their potential.

During the second mile, we ran by the Ohio Veteran’s Home just like we did every other day.  A woman was out walking the same route.  I hardly even noticed her.  But Coach Smith hollered towards her and stopped running.  Then it happened: he was lost in conversation with yet another “stranger” and I was on my own.  It wasn’t the first time it had happened and I knew it wouldn’t be the last.  That was Coach Smith.  A man who knew someone just about anywhere he went at any given time and he always made time for them.  He was a man for the people.

As a recent graduate from Ohio State University, I’ve been reflecting the past few weeks on the journey I’ve taken to where I am today.  Like anyone else, there have been highs and lows.  But one thing permeates as the resounding theme: gratitude.  That gratitude is especially pronounced for Coach Smith, arguably the man who has impacted my life the most the last 10 years outside of my parents.  

Coach has been a huge part of my story, but not one that rests at the forefront day-in and day-out.  As much as it pains me to remember, Coach passed away unexpectedly when a mechanical failure caused his prized red 1967 Ford Mustang to veer into the parapet of an overpass bridge on June 10, 2012.  He was driving his youngest daughter who survived the crash.  The following few weeks and months were noticeably gloomier in Sandusky as Coach was a man beloved by many and taken well before his time.  It was this impact that forever imprinted a piece of Coach inside of me.

You see, the gratitude I feel is something that can only be understood within the confines of my own heart.  The lips need not profess the feelings of the heart to make them any more real or tangible.  Rather, it is declared through my approach to each day and even each individual task.  It is an attitude of joy and an appreciation for this life I get to live.

A few weeks ago I had the opportunity to share my story with the 10 men I live with at Ohio State.  As you might expect, I talked at length about Coach Smith and the impact he had and continues to have on my life.  It was the first time I had spoken in detail about the day of his accident in well over a year.  The memories came flooding back as I shared about the character of the man so many called Coach.  It was a blessing to be able to honor him with a group of men who had never met him and never will. 

That night inspired this post.  Having completed my undergraduate education last month, it would be easy to focus on all I’ve accomplished and revel in the road that lies ahead.  But, I find it more fitting to acknowledge one man who I owe a great debt of gratitude for his selflessness and generosity, which ultimately impacted my journey in ways he will never know.

There are a lot of great coaches across every sport imaginable and there are a lot of great men and women fulfilling roles in professions from teachers to doctors to lawyers and more.  While it isn’t necessarily rare to find both – after all, positive traits from one often overflow into the other – it isn’t easy to find men who are all around excellent fathers, husbands, employees, coaches, and friends.  Coach Smith was one of those men.

My freshman year of high school was a difficult transition for me.  The education gets a little more difficult, the social expectations begin to rise, and responsibility is slowly put on your shoulders in both the family and educational realms.  For me, the expectations were overwhelming and I didn’t adjust to them well.  My running career especially started to crumble.  I went from the being one of the top two runners at my school in the 3200 meter run to literally dropping out of races.  After struggling through things personally, it became evident by my sophomore year that something was off.  I wasn’t the only person who recognized that.  

One day after track practice, Coach Smith approached me and asked me to step into the office with him.  We didn’t emerge for well over an hour.  We weren’t discussing running or academics.  Instead, we were talking about life.  This continued almost every day for two months as the two of us chatted about what I was struggling with and Coach offered advice and, at times, just an open ear.  Whenever I battled the mental side of running, Coach would approach and, rather than bark commands to push me harder, utter the same phrase I’d heard him say hundreds of times: “Keep the faith.” 

It would take longer than a few months for a change to take hold, but eventually it did and my running career started to turn around again.  During that time, Coach was to me what not many coaches ever learn to be: a second father to one of his athletes.

Then there was the process of figuring out where to go to college.  I was pretty much set on choosing between Ohio State and the University of Cincinnati.  I’d wanted to be a Buckeye my entire life.  At the same time, I was going through the process of interviewing for a full ride through UC’s Linder Honors Plus program.  I had no idea what I wanted to study and the social implications of college honestly frightened me as an introvert in a graduating class of fewer than 200.  All I knew was that business seemed like a good fit long-term.

In February of my junior year, Coach Smith gave me a ride to the University of Akron to compete at an indoor meet as many of the best athletes on our team did.  On the drive, we discussed my future plans.  I don’t remember much of the conversation, but I do know we talked about the business world at length.  Coach didn’t focus on business strategy, frameworks, or theories.  Instead, he focused on the importance of strong moral character and virtue.  He talked about needing better men and women leading businesses.  As a young mind with a bright educational future ahead, I absorbed his words like a sponge.

When the time came to pick a school, Coach insisted it was my decision to make and nobody else’s.  Coming from the words of an Ohio State alum, I secretly hoped he would encourage Ohio State and essentially make the decision for me.  Rather, he offered a consistent message that I had to make the decision I felt was best for me regardless of the opinions presented by others.  

I knew Ohio State was the school I had to choose.

I’ve learned even more about Coach since we last talked from others he encountered on a regular basis.  One person being the former pastor in Sandusky who presided for his funeral Mass.  He’s mentioned how Coach would come to him for advice on how to be a better coach to his athletes.  This is in many ways a result of his deep faith and devotion to God, a value that was at the core of who he was and that has deeply impacted me years later.  In high school, when I found my way back to the Catholic Church, it was Coach Smith who both encouraged and supported going to youth group.  That in turn has led me to today where I live in a Catholic men’s household called Saint Paul’s Outreach and strive to be the same man to other men that Coach was to me.

I could give myriads of other examples of the character Coach Smith possessed and lived.  Those that know him best can, I’m sure, provide even more.  Over the years, I’ve shared many of these stories between former teammates and coaches.  Some help us to reminisce on the good ‘ole days.  Still others remind us of the goof he was, too.  No man I’ve ever known has simply enjoyed life quite the way he did.

The epitome of Coach’s lasting impact for me was the week of his passing and, more specifically, the day of his funeral.  Within minutes of the announcement that Coach had not survived the crash, the entire cross country team, much of the track team, and all of the coaches surrounded a fire ring together for hours sharing tears, laughter, and appreciation for the man he was to all of us.  A few days later, a prayer service was held by the local community.  Hundreds showed up to pray for him and the Smith family.  At one point, his oldest daughter offered her consolation to me, a memory that sticks out to me as a sign of how great a father he was – that one of his own children had that much strength during a time so difficult.

Though we can no longer seek Coach Smith for advice or even just a good laugh, his memory will live on for years to come in the hearts of those he touched.  He was, without a doubt, a man for the people.  He enjoyed being around friends and family more than anything.  We all had something to learn from him.

One of the readings at his funeral sums up perfectly the way he lived life and has been a beating drum for me when life gets difficult: “Do you not know that the runners in the stadium all run in the race, but only one gets the prize? Run so as to win.” 1 Corinthians 9:24.

For me, his memory is inscribed into who I am.  Not a day goes by that I don’t hope to exemplify the man he was and desire to make him proud.  Much as I long to talk to him one last time, I can’t help but also be a little jealous knowing he gets to run forever with God.