Like Sam Weir, I was short of stature, light as a feather and not endowed with the genes of a future Olympian. When those big red rubber balls would sail 150 mph at my head, I became a believer in impassioned prayer, "Oh God! Please don't let them kill me!!" It was a demoralizing hour repeated 2 or 3 times every week for me a handful of others who shared my passion for the sidelines or a bench. By the time 5th grade rolled around and I had a year of reminders of not making the cut, something happened. My gym teacher had an idea that would forever alter my life.
Yes, I believe Physical Education classes can be life changing. Mr Westcott, just a young teacher fresh out of Penn State, was very much in tune with the dynamics that unfolded on the gym floor. He was much aware that in gym there were Sams and Neals and Bills and Marks who felt they never had a chance to enjoy gym but instead endured the weekly ritual with lower aspirations of just getting through in one piece. One day in as we sat in classrooms, our teachers read off a list of names of students who were to report to the gym immediately. When my name was announced along with other students, we had a quizzical look on our faces. We had no idea why our names would be read off to go to what? A second gym class in the day? It had to be a mistake, we weren't the ones who should be heading to the gym to be crafted into future professional athletes. But the round up was underway with the likes of Steve and George and Scott and Kevin. It didn't take us long to realize why we were there. We were the guys who didn't expect to win at any physical contest. We were the ones who could relate with the geeks at dodge ball.
I still remember the day when Steve Isch asked me if we had coordination classes today. After all these years we still joke about it. He saw it for what it was as a 5th grader. We were the clumsy, the slow, the unfit, and the timid. We were the the lower echelon of draft picks when teams were divided for softball or football or basketball. Although we were aware of the reality that we were not that good, Mr. Westcott was about to change the way we perceived ourselves in this special class made just for us. I remember the first class, as we toed the line to find out why in the heck we were called to a second gym class in the day. With great diplomacy he explained why all of us were invited. "The reason you are here today is because each of you are seem reluctant to jump in when it's time to play. You are the ones that hesitate to pick up a floor hockey stick or pick up a baseball bat or have the desire to shoot the basketball. This class is for you to have fun and we're glad you're here." As I looked around the room, not one of my peers posed a threat when it came to sports and as we looked at each other, we all breathed a collective sigh of relief. This was gym with out bullies, or superstars, it was just us! We wondered what it would be like to play sports with out the fear of failure, or snickering or put downs. It was our time to shine- it was our GYM for an hour!
After Mr Westcott's speech, he and an assistant divided up teams, and they were the captains making the pick. Here we were again, hoping not to be the last one picked! Mr W was the first to choose amid all the prospects who stood on the line hoping to be called. He announced, "I'll take you, the one with the cool motorcycle jacket!" He then pointed his finger right at me! I was quite in shock to be the very first pick- that had never happened in my life! Right then I made a decision I would not disappoint Mr W.; he would be glad that I was a team member. I have no idea how I performed that day but I know that from that point forward, I would never be shy about sports again. That class ignited my passion to get in the game and not wish for the sidelines. I would grow to love sports deeply and by the time I entered high school, I lettered in baseball, cross country and wrestling.
Mr Westcott was a visionary of elementary gym class. His decision profoundly effected the way I saw my world. I wonder how many other of my "coordination class" peers felt the same way after this idea he pursued!
He did so much when over the last 4 decades and it was hard to believe that day when HE PICKED ME FIRST. So last night I decided to go on a mission to try to find his phone number and thank him forty years later for that life-changing moment he created for a little kid. When I found and dialed his number I knew I was taking a stab in the dark that I'd actually get a chance to chat with my old gym teacher. When the phone stopped ringing a woman answered the line and I asked to talk with Mr Westcott. She hesitated until I explained the reason for my call. Her reluctance quickly evaporated as she told me she was his wife and high school sweetheart from Vestal and remembers very clearly those days at Ross Corners elementary and how amazing those early years were. I assured her I did not plan to tie up their relaxing evening for long, but that I just wanted to thank a real gym class hero.
It was surreal to hear Mr Westcott's voice after all these years. I shared with him how he had changed my life by one small act in a special gym class. I let him know that since those early years I have run four marathons and that I was knocking on the door to qualifying for the Boston Marathon. He was very excited to learn of my achievements and was still in the role of encourager. What I learned in the brief conversation was that he now lives in the Boston area and wants me to call him if I qualify so we can meet up when I reach that goal. I told him that only fuels my motivation more to shave off the 15 minutes so I can make the trip to the east coast to meet up with him and his wife. I thanked him once more then I hung up the phone and looked out the window in a mystical kind of way. It had ended up being a magical way to end 2012. Although it has been a year with many sharp bends and drops and climbs, it seemed to be a perfect ending to reach way back in time to reconnect with a difference-maker.
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