Coach Pookie

If you asked me who the one person was who managed to motivate me beyond my natural abilities, I'd have to say Coach Gary Carkido. He was a math teacher, assistant football coach and track and field sprint coach at my alma mater, Midpark High School. In the beginning I only went out for track because my friends Jill and Ryan convinced me that I would get in really, really, really ridiculously good shape for soccer. Jill was one of my best friends and I had known Ryan since we were kids, so I figured, what the hell? Little did I know what I was in for...

I went through the motions as a Sophomore and most of my Junior season until coach threatened to kick me off the 4x400m relay team. Just a week after he sat me down from the relay, he let me challenge my replacement for the spot. With coaches help, as well as an old teammate (and collegiate hurdler) who graduated the previous year, I was prepared and beat "the rookie shit," as we called him. At that point, I kicked it in gear and ended up dropping about four seconds off my time in a month and a half. Our relay went on to win the conference, break the school record by over six seconds and compete at the state meet. As a senior I went back in the open 400m despite some of my coaches, and friends, telling me that I wasn't good enough.

I owe it all to one man.

A couple of weeks after the run-off at practice, some of the sprinters, including myself, the rookie (who would end up being our alternate at the state meet,) and the hillbilly (our anchor,) noticed a small, gold, bear-shaped charm on coach's necklace. Knowing it was a gift from his wife, we immediately dubbed him, "Coach Pookie," short for pookie bear. Coach, with a very serious look on his face, told us to never call him that again. BUT, we were all cocky little bastards and decided to lay into him in the weight room the next day despite his stern warning. What was he going to do about it, right? It was supposed to be a heavy lifting, lift running workout, but it quickly turned into repeat quarters. He ran us hard until a few of the guys were puking their guts out.

For those who don't know what "repeat quarters" are... a "quarter" is a quarter-mile, 400m, or one lap around the track...an excruciating race. It's an all-out, yet controlled, sprint. We had to complete each lap in under 60 seconds and when one group crossed the line, another would take off, and so on. Our best times were between 49-52 on race day, although the younger guys were a good 2-8 seconds slower than that. Imagine how difficult it would be to run a number of these at that time with no rest and no spikes. This went on for what seemed like hours, in actuality it was probably about 30-45 minutes. If you've seen "Miracle," think of the "again" scene after the USA tied Norway in an exhibition game leading up to the '80 Olympics. Coach wasn't quite as mean as Herb Brooks, but my God did our legs feel like jello and did our stomachs feel nauseous when he was through with us. Needless to say, we learned our lesson. Don't f*ck with coach.

After my senior year, I never really heard from Coach Carkido again. I heard he had gone back to teach and coach football and track at his alma mater, McDonald High School, in Youngstown, Ohio. None of the other coaches from Midpark that I kept in touch with (basically Coach Kosar and Coach Ruggiero) had heard from him. Well, two weeks ago, he emailed me. Weird. I always scan through my spam box on yahoo, just in case, but usually it's all crap. But there it was-
Subject: Your track coach
From: Gary Carkido

Apparently he was trying to locate some of his old students to see what they'd been up to and found my profile on the fraternity's website. I believe you have seen Erik link this a couple of times already. Yes, we get it. I had shitty hair. So did Nash and Berry...

(note: I have a totally sweet picture of Nash and Berry mopping the fraternity's kitchen floor freshman year with their ridiculous hair, but unfortunately it's not digital and I'm without a scanner at home. As soon as I can get the rest of my pictures online, you will all get to see it. It's brilliant.)

Anyways, I've been exchanging emails with coach for a week or so and I finally got a chance to tell him the impact he had on me. I've had coaches who motivated me and got me to play hard, but I've never had a coach who got me to prepare quite like he did. Senior year I was always in the weight room or out on the track long into the night. I would be working on my starts or practicing coming off of the 200 and 400 meter turns. I was so dedicated that I alienated a number of my close friends (Ivancic, Vinny and Demas especially) and effectively ended my social life for nearly four months. Had I accomplished all my goals I would have even missed prom, but I lost at state semi's after catching a nasty flu from my ex-girlfriend earlier in the week.

When I look back at old photos from high school I often notice that I don't have many from my senior year. Well, at least there aren't many that were taken away from the track, the football stadium or the soccer field. After emailing with coach, I remember for the first time in years what it was like to be so dedicated to something. To give up your life for one goal is a difficult thing, but I can honestly say that I have no regrets. Thankfully, I still see the high school gang when I'm back in Cleveland and we can all pick up right where we left off. However, had I not become such a loner near the end there, I may not have gone away to Miami for college. I certainly wouldn't have ended up hanging out with my crew up here or even gotten to D.C. or Chicago at all. It's interesting to think how one person's belief in you can shape your future so drastically.

So now, as I embark on my training for the triathlon this summer and the possibility of a new career, I hope I can find the motivation to attack my goals the same way I did over that 18 month stretch. I'll certainly need it if I'm going to even finish this tri, let alone beat anyone I know to the finish. I might have to find some time this summer to train back in Youngstown and get that edge back. I guess I'll leave you all for the weekend by saying, "Thank you Coach Pookie," one final time. I could use a dose of repeat quarters right about now.