The Scott Harman Relays are important to me because I grew up in the same neighborhood with Scott Harman. We played youth baseball together. He was two years behind me at Brentwood High School. He was the best athlete I've ever known. 6'3" 210 pounds. All-County and All-Midstate running back. He won a state championship in the pole vault in 1985. In 1986, he broke the state record in the decathlon by 200 points and, in the process, won a state championship. Scott subsequently accepted a track scholarship to UT (Knoxville) and I occasionally saw him on campus in the fall and winter of 1986.
On April 17, 1987, Scott was in Berea, KY, participated in his first track meet as a member of UT's track and field team. While warming up, he was hit in the head by an errant throw of the hammer by another athlete. Scott never regained full consciousness and died at home 16 years later on November 12, 2003. It's a tragic story made more so by the fact that Scott's older sister died in a car accident near our neighborhood a year or so before he was critically injured.
Initially, the Scott Harman Relays began at Brentwood High School as a fundraiser for the Hartman family. It makes me happy, all these years later, that they're still held in Scott's honor every spring. I don't want Scott Harman to be forgotten. To that end, I sent one of JP's track coaches an e-mail last weekend providing him with details about Scott to share with MBA's track and field team before the meet.
On Wednesday evening, I arrived at Brentwood High School about 6 p.m. After finding a parking place behind Brentwood Middle School, I found an entrance on the back side of the track and walked across the infield, still wearing my coat and tie. The boys were finishing the second heat of the 800. JP's senior cross country teammate, Jack Farringer, ran well, clocking a 2:05:42 in the second heat. I missed the first heat, in which JP's senior cross country teammate, Jack Wallace, won the 800 by running a blistering 1:56:75.
Almost as soon as I walked up, lightning flashed in the western sky and the meet was officially delayed. Athletes were ordered off the track and parents walked to their cars. Jude and I sat in my car for close to an hour, listening to a podcast. I reclined my seat and catnapped. Finally, I drove her around to her car in the front parking lot, so she could leave to get Joe from Rohan Chitale's house after his baseball game, which had been rained out.
Surprisingly, the meet resumed about 7:45 p.m. and I walked back down to the track. I talked with some other parents and stood for a few moments by the flagpole with the plaque honoring Scott Hartman. I watched a relay or two and a few boys and girls hurdles heats. I walked to the back side of the track and stood next to a Father Ryan mother as she watched her daughter run the 3200. Finally, about 8:00 p.m., the boys lined up to 3200.
I was curious to see how JP would fare against other boys who had been training specifically on the track all spring long. JP, of course, has been playing baseball primarily and running on his own. He works in the occasional track workout with the team when it doesn't conflict with baseball. I like the 3200 for JP, too, because I think he excels at that distance.
With the sky threatening heavy rain at any moment, the starter fired his pistol, and the boys were off. On the first lap, at the third turn where I was standing, JP was leading the pack as the boys ran what appeared to be a comfortable pace. My first thought, though, was for JP to get out of the lead. On a windy night, no need to lead the race. Let someone else do the work of the leader and trust your kick at the end. Don't go out too fast and don't break for the lead too early.
In the second lap, JP settled in behind the leader, running along the inside of the track. By the third lap, the lead pack of seven runners, including JP and Gabe (his classmate at MBA), had broken away a bit. JP continued to run second and looked good, like a car in fourth gear, with a fifth gear available, when and if necessary.
Although I was nervous, I felt good about how JP was running as the runners crossed the start/finish line and began the second half of the race. He's a quick study and when he ran the 2-mile, indoors, in Louisville earlier this year, I think he realized he broke too early. My thought, then, was that he's probably break at or near the beginning of the last lap.
And when the bell rang loudly, that's exactly what he did. Nearing the far, second turn from where I was standing, JP burst from the pack with a powerful move no one else could match. I walked across the track then began jogging across the infield to get to the finish line. He had pulled away from the pack by 10 or 15 yards as the boys approached the third turn, where I had been standing.
He was running fast and easy as he made the final turn and ran down the straightaway toward the finish line. A runner from Page High School, in second place, tried to pick up the pace and reel JP in, but he couldn't do it. JP maintained a distance of 10 yards or so between them. As he crossed the finish line in 9:42:32, JP extended his arms out beside him in celebration, almost like wings. I chuckled, remembering that JP's former teammate, Samuel Trumble, raised an index finger to the sky in the same race last year and was almost disqualified by the race officials.
I found JP and gave him a hug and took a quick post-race photo. JP had a huge smile on his face. A smile of relief, maybe, after he'd worked so hard, running on his own in the mornings before school or on weekends. A smile of pride and a sense of accomplishment after winning his first race in a high school track event. A smile of youth and, in some ways, innocence. He was ebullient and that made me very happy.
After the race, as the team and coaches were milling around the infield, Coach Russ said to him, kiddingly, "nice race for a baseball player." JP laughed and I did, too.
I took a few more photos, including my traditional JP and Gabe shot. Alice called them "Shake and Bake" in a text the other day, which made me laugh.
I said goodbye to JP, got in my truck, and drove home as is started to rain. I was filled with wonder and gratitude.
What a gift it is to watch my son run.
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