All I ever wanted was one student who would win a medal at the highest level. I got three that day.
What more could a coach ask for, you would wonder! All the training days and years I had spent with my talented trio flashed in front of my eyes. The three of them had always been my best medal prospects.
I was certain it was my day. Less than thirty meters to the finish line of the world cross country championship final. From the side-lines, I saw that Viv was in the lead. Rob was behind him. Ben was about five meters behind them at number three.
The crowd cheered all my wards to go for the final push. It didn’t matter to me. All three were mine. I cheered for all three.
I remembered what I had always told Viv. He was my most gifted and talented runner of all time. Viv was a natural who ran for running’s sake. He didn’t bother about winning or losing. I had to tell him to pay attention to the competition. Even in training. All he ever wanted was to run. Most of the time though, he won.
I remembered what I had always told Rob. He was the gentlest of my runners with a heart of gold. Rob improved in every race. He ran because he made friends that way. I had to tell him to bother less about the people around him. Even in training. All he ever wanted was to be a good friend. He was Viv’s best friend and pacer.
I remembered what I had always told Ben. He was my most competitive runner. Ben was a born competitor and ran for winning. I had to tell him to be careful about his methods. I had to tell him to pay attention to the rules and to his own attitude. All he ever wanted was to win. Most of the times, he lost. To Viv.
I chiselled all three of them and gave them all that I had. I gave them all the skills needed to navigate the treacherous track. I gave them all the methods to use the strengths of their bodies. I gave them all the techniques to build the endurance in their minds to become champions.
But a coach can only give that much. After all, people deep within remain the same. A simple man becomes a simple champion. A man with guile becomes a champion with guile.
I often wondered whether a coach can truly change an athlete’s core motivations. When push comes to shove, the athlete in the man gets out of the way. The man in the athlete comes to the fore. He pushes the athlete in the direction he wants.
That day, it became clear to me. A coach can’t, and I hadn’t, changed the people in my athletes, despite hours, days, and years of training.
Because what happened that day thirty meters before the finish line was this.
Viv slowed down because he thought he had reached the finish line. One of the signboards before the finish line was much bigger than the one at the finish. Viv thought that bigger signboard was the finish line. With everyone around cheering him, Viv thought he had crossed the line. Ever chilled out and lost in his steps, Viv slowed down.
Rob passed Viv by and saw that he was smiling despite slowing down. He realised that Viv didn’t know that the race was still not over. He slowed his steps and pointed Viv to the finish ahead. The smaller board ahead was the actual finish line, he seemed to suggest.
“We aren’t finished, yet” he shouted. Viv flashed his eyebrows when he realised it. He took off and sprinted hard for the last thirty meters as if it were the first thirty meters.
But before that, Ben, from only a few meters behind, saw that both Viv and Rob had slowed down.
He realised that it was due to the confusion about the finish line that Viv had slowed down. And he saw that with Viv, his best friend Rob too had reduced his pace. Ben smelled the opportunity to win. He jumped at it. He raced ahead, pushing Rob aside, determined to reach the finish.
In less than five seconds after that, the race was over.
Ben got the gold. Viv who sprinted after Rob gave him the signal got the silver. Rob who waited for Viv to catch up got the bronze.
I had three medals as a coach that day. Everyone congratulated me. They went gaga over a coach who produced athletes who got the gold, silver, and bronze. I was at the receiving end of endless felicitation that day.
My athletes had, for the outside world, made me proud. But deep within, I was not sure. I didn’t know who to congratulate. I didn’t know who to reprimand.
The world only sees the medals. The coach sees his athletes. And the people in them.
On the podium that day, I found my three wards. A bronze medallist with a smile, happy for his friends. A silver medallist looking blank who could only care less. And a gold medallist with a sneer.
I cheered for them, albeit on the surface. But I decided that it was going to be my last day as a coach. I had done enough. Or, on second thoughts, I hadn’t done enough.
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The Coach was first published in Potato Soup Journal. It is part of the collection ‘Potpourri‘