Criss Cross

Chapter 53

Jannie looked at me. So did Nana Mama and Bree. The conversation wasn’t headed where any of us expected.

I shrugged, said, “She doesn’t get sick any more often than my other children, right, Nana?”

“Correct,” my grandmother said. “Why are you asking that, Coach Wilson?”

Wilson smiled and set down her legal pad and pen. “The heptathlon is tough, physically and mentally. Two days, eight events. And training for the heptathlon is tougher still because it is an absolute grind-fest.”

“Explain that,” Bree said.

Wilson reached into her briefcase and pulled out a thick spiral notebook. “This represents a year of heptathlon programming for my current athletes. Every day, they’ve got a job to do, three hundred and sixty-five days a year.”

She went on to describe the training blocks — weights, plyometrics, and agility in the off-season, endless sessions of training and technical work leading up to competition, and hours of maintenance and recovery while performing.

“Do you see how that could wear out a young woman?” Wilson asked. “Do you see how someone could break down in this kind of pressure-cooker environment?”

“I do,” Nana Mama said. “Is there time scheduled for studying in that book of yours?”

“Absolutely,” Wilson said. She hesitated a moment and then said, “I’m going to be straight with you, and I hope the other coaches you are talking with are being straight with you as well. At least as far as competing in the heptathlon at the highest level, and by that, I mean at a level that could lead you into an Olympic stadium someday...”

“Okay?” Jannie said.

The coach put her hand on her chest. “It is my belief that from a training perspective, you will be better off if you take the bare minimum of academic requirements.”

“What?” my grandmother and I both said at once. We didn’t like that.

Wilson held her hands up. “Hear me out. During my NCAA career, I kept my academics to a minimum and filled that extra time with training. The courses I did take, I devoured. As a result, it took me five and a half years to graduate from college, but I did so with the highest honors. I also had two national championships under my belt and a shot at the Olympic Games.”

We all chewed on that for a bit.

Jannie looked at me. “I think that kind of makes sense, Dad. I mean, I admit I’ve been worried about how training and school work at the next level.”

“And you’re right to be worried,” the coach said. “I know how things can stack up on a young lady if she’s trying to be both a world-class athlete and a full-time student.”

After a few moments of silence, Bree said, “I can see it helping. The reduced workload in school, I mean. If she decides to compete in the heptathlon.”

“What if she just runs?” I asked.

“If she just runs, she should be a full-time student, but at this point it probably won’t be at the University of Texas.”

That took us all aback.

“So you’re not interested in having Jannie run for UT?” I asked.

“I could change my mind, but not as of today.”

“I’m confused,” Nana Mama said. “She’s got five other great schools with great track programs making her offers.”

“I know, and I’m not making her an offer today.”

We were all quiet. Jannie sat forward. “You’re not making me an offer to run track or you’re not making me an offer to train for the heptathlon?”

“Both, and I’m going to tell you why,” Coach Wilson said calmly and kindly. “I’ve watched videos of you when you were a freshman and I’ve talked with your coaches, and I have rarely seen anyone as gifted as you. You were a unicorn with limitless potential. But then you broke your foot.”

Irritated, I said, “We’ve told you the foot is fine. And she dominated at her last few indoor meets.”

“Believe me, I’ve been watching. But here’s my quandary. Since Jannie’s freshman year, she’s run in only nine meets, and only one was outside. And here she’s coming into the spring of her junior year and she’s got mono, so the likelihood of her getting fit enough to really show me something outdoors this spring season is slim, at least as things stand. And as far as I know, she hasn’t competed in any field events.”

“Ted McDonald, an independent coach, has had her training in every heptathlon event for the past three years.”

“I spoke with Coach McDonald. It’s largely why I’m here.” Nana Mama crossed her arms. “To tell her she’s not getting a scholarship from Texas? You could have done that on the phone.”

Coach Wilson smiled. “Actually, I’m here to encourage Jannie to do whatever it takes to fully recover and then get fit enough to race in a short series of invitational meets happening around the country this summer. I or one of my assistants will be at every one of those races, and we’ll be able to see if the unicorn is still in there.

“If Jannie is interested in the heptathlon, which is my preference, she should do more than just run at the invitational meets. I’d like to see her compete in at least two field events — the long jump, say, and the javelin. But it’s her choice. If I like what I see in those meets, I’ll be back with a full five-year-scholarship offer in writing as well as an in-depth training plan for her to follow.”

Coach Wilson said goodbye and left a few minutes later, and we gathered in the kitchen.

“She was sure different than the others,” Nana Mama said. “They were falling all over themselves to get Jannie.”

Acting defensive, Jannie said, “Maybe I should just call up the coach at Oregon and tell him I’ll take his offer.”

“That would be the easy way, Jannie,” I said. “But you know Coach Wilson wasn’t dissing you. She was challenging you.”

“To prove I’m worthy?” Jannie said.

“That’s kind of the point, isn’t it? To show you’re more than worthy?”

“I guess,” she said with little enthusiasm.

“You didn’t think this was going to be easy, did you?” my grandmother asked.

“It felt that way with the other coaches.”

“Nothing worth achieving is done without effort, young lady.”

Jannie sighed and walked over to hug her great-grandmother. “You’re right, Nana. How is it you’re always right?”

“Not always,” Nana said. “But often enough.”