Going the Wrong Way

In my last year as cross country coach at Hemet High School, our main competitor for the Desert Valley League championship was Coachella Valley High School. Due to the rotating schedule, 1968 was a home meet for us, a decided advantage to our team in the dual meet competition. As the meet approached, both teams were undefeated, so the meet loomed as a test of unbeaten teams. I spent the day before making sure that everything was ready for the contest, including the preparation of the paperwork and the careful marking of the actual course.

Our home cross country course was at a rough area outside the city called Park Hill. The world has turned over many times since that October day, and the Park Hill area is now a housing development. I doubt if there are many people who remember it as a wilderness area with rough fire roads, cattle trails with a radio tower at the top, but in the late 1960s it was our home course, a challenging combination of hills and sandy watercourses. It finished on a long 200 meter straightaway that allowed the home crowd to cheer on their favorites.

On meet day for some reason, the Coachella team was very late in arriving, but since at that time there were only two divisional races, the boys’ varsity and junior varsity, there was no problem finishing the competition before the October darkness fell, even with the end of Daylight Savings Time. High school competition today includes four boys’ and three girls’ races.

When the Coachella bus finally arrived, I quickly went to the door to assure the Coachella coach that his team would have plenty of time to warm up, and that even though it was 4:00 there was plenty of time for the competition. I didn’t know the Coachella coach, it was his first year, but since the winner of the meet would become the favorite to take the league title, I wanted him to feel that we wouldn’t rush the start of the race.

“Hello Coach, take whatever time your guys need to warm up and our guys will all walk the course with you to make sure that everyone knows where to go,” I said.

“We don’t need to walk the course, our guys will just follow your guys and kick them down,” the coach replied, dismissing me by turning his back.

“OK,” I said to his back, and went over to my team.

“Ernie,” I said to a JV runner who was hoping to be a varsity quarter miler in the spring. He was running cross country to improve his strength for track, but he had never been on the varsity, in fact he wasn’t even the top JV runner, but he was our fastest athlete. He looked at me quizzically.

“You’re running varsity today,” I said, and I explained what the Coachella coach had said to me, and his attitude toward our team. The whole team began to grumble.

“I want you to be in first place at the divide, and then go DOWN the hill,” I said.

“But Coach, that’s the wrong way,” Ernie said.

“That’s the idea,” said James Berg, who was our top runner.

“Exactly,” I said, “Do whatever you have to do to be there first, I don’t care if you don’t finish the race. The rest of you hang behind the CV runners and let them follow Ernie down the hill.”

“Yea,” the team said almost as one.

And so, the teams gathered at the starting line for their final instructions. I carefully explained the course, and the way it was marked. Then I asked for questions, but there were none. If the Coachella kids followed Ernie, they would have to cross a solid chalk line flanked by two orange traffic cones.

I called the runners to their marks and shot the gun. The first quarter mile consisted of a lap around a small hill by the starting line. As the runners passed by the starting line Ernie burst from the pack and into the lead, closely followed by the green clad CV runners, as the yellow shirted Hemet runners hung back. The runners labored up a gradual climb that ended at the divide, and we could see Ernie turn left and disappear down the other side of the hill, closely followed by the CV runners. The Hemet runners ran straight, and then turned right for a half mile circle of what we called “Knob Hill.”

About a minute later, the CV guys reappeared, but the last Hemet runner had already vanished behind Knob Hill. By this time, even though there was still over a mile left, the race was over. The Hemet kids finished first through sixth in the race, fashioning a 15-45 win. Ernie even finished ahead of two of the CV runners, running the race of his life.

The win, however questionable, maintained our undefeated record. Surprisingly, the Coachella coach never complained, in fact, he never said anything to me all day. We were also able to win the JV race that day, and later, we were able to defeat Coachella again at a neutral site at the Desert Valley League Finals for our school’s first ever cross country championship.

The ethical questions remain.