Memorable Coaching—Various ~1965–1982

I never intended to be a swim coach. In fact, I never actually intended to become a swimmer. It just sorta happened. The basic decision path was this: hang around the house during the summer and risk being assigned chores vs. hang around the pool and live a life of sun, cannonballs, and snacks from vending machines. No brainer.

When Herbert the Pervert (my best friend in the neighborhood) suggested that I join the Harvest Park swim team at age 9, it wasn't that I really wanted to do it...it was more that I simply didn't have anything better to do. The rest of my life has been dramatically shaped by that rather ambivalent decision. What follows is a brief summary of memories of my swimming years and some of the coaches who participated in making me into who I am today.

Ed Poley, Harvest Park coach: This guy could swim 50 meters underwater, which to my 10-year-old mind was positively Houdini-esque. I also remember him telling us about the magical kingdom called the Wichita Swim Club, where workouts lasted for hours, spine-breaking discipline was enforced, and mythological swimming speeds were routinely attained. In describing the WSC swimmers, Ed once told us that the boys on that team were so muscular that their chests were THIS big (whereupon he made the universal Hooters gesture) -- to be honest, it kinda freaked me out to think of boys with cleavage.

Steve Miller, Harvest Park coach: Nice guy with fair complexion; always had the white zinc-oxide nose thing going on. I never learned what he did when he wasn't coaching snot-nosed Park Board swimmers, but I always imagined that he was practicing hard with a garage band and eventually became the guy who I heard on the radio singing "Fly Like an Eagle". Hey, it could be...

Brad Tompkins, Harvest Park coach: Brad was an impressive butterflyer, and a funny guy (two qualities that don't always go together). We had fun when he was the coach. A couple of years later, when I was being recruited to swim for the Friends University Swim Team, I saw Brad's name plastered all over their swim team's record board. I may have continued to be impressed with this public display of Brad's speed, except for the fact that I ended up at KU, and none of his FU records would've qualified him to make the travelling squad at KU. And speaking of KU...

Dick Reamon, University of Kansas coach: Nicknamed "The Duck" because of his nasal voice and waddling walk, Reamon coached the Jayhawks to 8 or 9 consecutive Big 8 Swimming Championships. I was not fast enough to make the team, but in 1972 there was no competition for pool time (Women's Swimming had not yet come to KU), so there was no "cut" -- everybody got to work out.

The KU swim team was a powerhouse. There were lots of fast guys. In my best event, the 500 freestyle, there were at least 4 guys who could beat me by more than 30 seconds. In other words, there was no chance in hell that I was going to compete for a spot on the starting squad.

There were about ten of us in this predicament. We loved swimming and wanted to be part of the team, but we lacked the talent, skill, discipline, and training it took to compete at the NCAA Division 1 level. Coach Reamon had no use for us as racers, but he knew that if he kept us around, we'd be happy to help with poolside chores that the scholarship athletes shunned. Therefore, he created a special practice group for the slow kids.

They called us "The Zoo". While we preferred to think that the name was applied because we were such a bunch of athletic animals, I suspect that it had more to do with the coach's unconscious wish that we were all locked up behind bars.

Whatever the reason for the name, though, the Zoo was a great group. Our most respected member was Vince Zubowicz, who couldn't swim very fast but kept the team GPA up by contributing his consistant 4.0 semesters. Less respected, but still a lot of fun were:

—Allan B. Caudle (the "B" stood for "BS" -- he later became a successful advertising weiner, sort of a sprint butterfly version of Darren Stevens)
—Jimmy "Tarzan" Jewel (his jungle yell could summon elephants from as far away as Topeka, which probably has nothing to do with the fact that I sorta dated his sister once),
—Steve Case (who might be the guy who founded AOL -- but probably not...cuz if he was, don't you think he'd have given cushy, high-paying jobs to all his old Zoo teammates? I'm just sayin'...)
—Joe "Inflated Résumé" Greenwell (constantly telling stories of his prowess with sports, money, women, etc. without ever offering a single shred of evidence to support his claims -- I have no idea if there was any truth to the rumor that he was later arrested for trying to sneak into a high-school girl's gym locker room, but no one who heard the rumor tried to argue on behalf of his character)
—Mickey "Fat Man" Canaday (see other entries within these chronicles for many details of Mickey's exploits)... and of course,
—Terry Heggy (your humble narrator)

We Zoo inmates were allowed to work out with the "real" swimmers during running and weight-lifting workouts, but had our own swim times (in the evening, when all the other guys were eating dinner). We sometimes had a coach (Bruce Bove, who was for some reason known as "Bovide"), but sometimes we just made up our own workouts. When the meets came, we were given the enviable tasks of installing touch pads, setting up timers' chairs, making sure that there were enough dry towels to go around, etc.

It was fun. I loved being part of the Zoo.

But in 1973, the winds of change blew in, carrying the subtle scent of Title IX. Women's swimming came to KU. Pool time became coveted, and the special hours set aside for the Zoo were no longer available.

Coach Reamon was very gracious about it. Though his "A Team" practices were already overcrowded, he generously granted us the opportunity to continue to try to make the squad. I'll never forget his words: "Terry," he said, "I'm not going to cut you from the team. You are welcome to join the First String workout squad. But you know as well as I do how difficult it will be for you to swim and compete with that elite group." He paused and took a deep breath. Then, in his famous quacking voice said, "I'm not going to cut you. But it would be in everyone's best interest if you were to quit."

Hey, I'm a team player. I am totally respectful of everyone's best interest. But I chose to call it "retirement" instead of "quitting".

Everyone on the Zoo made the same decision. Oh, we still installed touchpads and folded towels, but now we did it for both the mens and womens teams. And to tell you the truth, watching the women's team was actually a lot more interesting than watching the men. (But that's another story. We're talking about coaching influences here.)

The Duck retired soon afterwards as well. I understand that he later became a very successful high school sports coach there in Lawrence. He's a good man.

He was succeeded by Gary Kempf, who is my age and swam at KU when I did. Even though he was a phenomenal athlete and one of the hardest workers I've ever known, I never bothered to show him any special respect. Hell, he lived in my dorm, and he had the ugliest Roger Daltry haircut you've ever seen. He deserved all the name-calling and short-sheeting that Mickey and I dished out. Still does.

I know. I know. I've strayed a bit from my original subject of coaching influences. I have talked briefly in other articles about Doug Sidles, John Deardorf, and Bill Spahn -- all coaches for whom I have the utmost respect -- so I'm not going to share any other details about these fine gentlemen here.

Everyone I've mentioned here has been a positive influence on my own career as a swim coach. I learned from each and every one of them. But as influential as these role models have been, they are NOT the reason I began coaching.

That particular motivation came from my experience as a Masters swimmer. And that, my friends, is another story.

For info on the Shy Man's Guide to Success with Women, please visit www.shyperson.com. For Terry Heggy's other writing, please see www.terryheggy.com.

Memorable Coaching—Becky Love ~1973

Why would someone want to be a swimmer?

• The workouts are brutal; most people think running 5 miles is tough -- we swam farther than that every single day during the summer.
• The chemicals are nasty; your hair gets bleached and brittle, you skin gets dry and flaky, and you walk around constantly smelling like a bottle of bleach. In the days before effective goggles (yes, I am that old), you typically suffered from burning, painful, bright-red vampire eyes. It's horrible.
• The sun is deadly. Oh yeah, you may look great as a deeply-tanned 15 year old, but a large percentage of us have had to undergo skin cancer surgery as we got older. Others heavy tanners end up with inelastic faces resembling alligator handbags. It can be hideous.
• Swimming is considered a "minor" sport. In high school, the only reason any cheerleaders came to any of our swim meets is that their charter required them to. If they didn't attend at least one "minor" sport event each season, they'd have to turn in their pom-poms. And never, under any circumstances would a cheerleader ever date one of us. (Of course, none of the other girls would date us either, but that's a different story. Sigh.)
• The gay guys might occasionally grope you when executing a flip turn. -- OK, this one might not bother some people, but it tended to make me a bit nervous.
• There's not much future in swimming. There are only a handful of people in the entire world who can actually make a living from being a swimmer. There's more money in almost any other sport; did you know that Kiki Vandeweghe was a world-record-holding swimmer before deciding to go into basketball? We even had a kid on the Wichita Swim Club (Chris Bogue) who was a national record holder in the 100 freestyle, but gave up swimming in order to go play football. In Wyoming. Geez!

So why would anyone want to become a swimmer? Well, there is the fact that the water supports you, so you're basically lying down the entire time you're exercising. That's good. And though I personally have never done it, I've heard that some people just pee in the pool whenever they need to go, rather than having to excuse themselves to the locker room -- what other sport has that feature? But the most compelling reason to become a swimmer can be summed up in four short words:

Girls in swim suits.

Girls with great bodies in swim suits. Spending the majority of your day hanging around with highly-fit women clad in a few scant ounces of nylon and lycra -- it does have its appeal.

Ahhh.

Wait. Where was I? Oh yeah. The appeals of swimming. Specifically, Becky Love.

When Becky was 10, she held national swimming records in several events. Her brothers were also excellent swimmers and their father, Bob Love, was a huge supporter of their participation. His company, the Love Box Company, became a major sponsor of the Wichita Swim Club, eventually being recognized when the spectacular new facility was christened as the "Love Aquatic Center" in the mid-1970s. Becky was older than me, though, so I never had the pleasure of swimming with her.

But she did become my coach for a while. What a blissful time that was!

You see, Becky was not only an outstanding athlete, but also a charming and attractive woman, with a gorgeous smile and a killer sense of humor. I was in high school (perhaps a freshman in college), and Becky was enough older to have the allure of wisdom and experience, but still young enough (and single enough) to allow us boys to fantasize that she might actually see us as "men".

We swam really hard, trying to impress her. We asked lots of questions about swimming technique, just to prolong our conversations with her. We dreamed of swimming to victory in the championship meet, just in the hope of getting a hug from our adorable coach as a show of congratulations.

Alas, it was not meant to be. Not long after I joined the swim team, Becky ended up moving to Arkansas, marrying some southern stud-muffin, and took over running one of the box company manufacturing plants. To this day, whenever I go box shopping, I always look for the Love Box brand name, and always think of my dear, foxy coach.

And there's one other thing I remember...

While Becky was an absolute sweetheart in all outward appearances, her creativity as a coach unwittingly revealed that she must have indeed had a dark side. A very dark side indeed. Her technique might have been effective from a stroke modification standpoint, but...ouch!

Here was Becky's torture technique: If a swimmer had a tendency to bend his or her elbows too much (at least in Becky's judgment), she would flash an evil grin, disappear into the murky depths of the coach's office, and re-emerge carrying a pencil and a roll of duct tape. The pencil was sharpened to a needle point -- on both ends -- and then duct taped across the inner bend of the offending swimmer's arm. If the elbow bent further than Becky thought appropriate, twin points of graphite would stab into his forearm and bicep, causing bloody puncture wounds with chunks of graphite floating around them.

It hurt like hell. But it did tend to teach you to straighten your arms. And guess what? You could do the same thing on the backside of your knees to fix a too-floppy kick. (Shudder!)

The training effectiveness of this category remains under dispute to this day. (It's especially suspect since the straight-arm butterfly technique has long since fallen out of favor.) But no one can accuse Becky of failing to make an impression on the swimmers who have ever tried this torturous technique. Or on swimmers who ever noticed how cute she was. Or both.

Perhaps Becky's coaching was one of the influences that led me into coaching as I got older. Perhaps not. I can honestly say that I've never actually tried to get anybody to try the double-pointed-pencil drill to straighten out their arms. But it makes a great threat...

Thanks, Becky. I hope you're happy.

For info on the Shy Man's Guide to Success with Women, please visit www.shyperson.com. For Terry Heggy's other writing, please see www.terryheggy.com.