Editor’s note: We have heard from so many readers who enjoyed reading Bill Boyd’s columns about growing up in Marysville during the 1930s and ‘40s that we are going to rerun columns 1 through 52 on Fridays for the next year.
––––
Track comes back to Marysville
When World War II ended, one of the returning veterans became a teacher in Marysville High School. His name was Bob Wagner, and he taught speech classes, directed plays, and the like. He was a great guy and a favorite among students.
Bob also had an interest in track and field, and he decided to start a track team in the high school. Marysville had fielded a team in the 1930s, but the program was dropped during the war.
The fact that Bob was able to field a very respectable team within a few years is remarkable for a variety of reasons. First of all, Marysville had no track. A new football field had been built at the corner of Grove Street and Collins Avenue, and someone had circled the field with loose piles of cinders. But holes could easily twist the ankles of runners. So he decided the team would practice at the fairgrounds and hold all of its meets out of town. After all, if race horses could run on that dirt track, so could his sprinters and distance runners.
There was a small brick building adjacent to the track which contained indoor plumbing, including two shower heads. This became the team’s “locker room,” although it had no lockers.
Bob put marks on the small fence on the inside of the race track which indicated the various distances for the sprints. It was a half mile race track so the milers simply ran two laps. The team only had one set of starting blocks, so he purchased a small trowel to dig shallow holes that the runners could use instead.
I was a tall skinny kid with no particular running skills, but Bob wanted me to run the high hurdles. Although reluctant at first, I finally agreed. The problem was, however, that during the war seven of the hurdles had been lost. As a result, we only had three hurdles to practice with. Bob assured me that would not be a problem, and he meticulously set up the first three hurdles past the starting line. He then measured the distance to the points where the other hurdles should go, and instead of placing a hurdle at that point, he simply made a mark in the track. Then 110 yards down the track he put a finish line.
“Now when I fire the starting gun I want you to clear those first three hurdles,” he said. “Then when you get to each mark I want you to visualize a hurdle at that point and go through the hurdling motion.” Today, as I look back, I find a strong resemblance between Bob’s “visualizing” method and the “Think System” used by the band uniform salesman, Professor Harold Hill, in “The Music Man.” As a novice hurdler, however, I actually found some comfort in this, because after clearing the first three hurtles I didn’t have to worry about hitting any of the others because they only existed in my mind.
Bob continued improvising, finding a depressed area where the football team had once placed a tackling dummy. He filled it with sawdust, providing a place for practicing the high jump and pole vault, although there was no runway to approach the bar. Instead, athletes had to run uphill through a rough grassy area. Being a high jumper, I expressed some concern about that, but Bob only replied, “Don’t worry, facing adversity will only make you better … and it builds character.” Nevertheless, I still had my doubts.
Bob’s teams, in spite of all the handicaps, did pretty well, winning their share of meets. In 1950, the team came in third in the state finals, thanks primarily to a boy named Bob Patterson, a gifted sprinter whose specialty was the 440 yard dash. I don’t recall him ever running that race and coming in any place but first. When he ran that race in practice sessions, no one was able to compete with him. As a result, Coach Wagner sometimes had him running against two runners. The first would compete against him for the first 220 yards, and then a second fresh runner would pick it up at that point and run against him for the last 220 yards.
In the 1950 state finals, Bob Patterson won the state championship in both the 440 yard dash and the long jump. Bud Hoffman also came in fifth in the 100 yard dash. I, on the other hand, did not make it through the final qualifying heat in the high hurdles. (It might have been different if they had allowed me simply to “visualize” those last seven hurdles.)
But the highlight of the season for me was between races at the state finals, which was held in the Ohio State football stadium. Bob, Bud and I sat down in the center of the football field to rest between races. While we were sitting there, Jesse Owens came along and sat down with us. We chatted for 10 or 15 minutes and it was fascinating. He was such a friendly guy, and after talking he gladly gave me his autograph on my library card.
A few years ago I gave that autograph to our son. It’s one of my favorite things, and I owe it all to a Marysville school teacher named Bob Wagner.