“Thunder” isms – 1

 

COMPILED FROM MANY ATHLETES OVER MANY YEARS

 

1) “Only two balls per athlete. If you want to keep that one, then I will go get my Leatherman and take one of yours.”

2) “I want to see some heel to glute”

3) “We need to bury that duck”

4) “Quit feeling sorry for yourself.” 

5) “You can wish in one hand and sh#! in the other. See which one fills up first.”

6) “We’ve left All-Americans behind.”

7) (Coach I have a girlfriend) “Is she a sighted woman? Does she have thin ankles?”

8 ) “I’ve got your last mile time. It was February.”

9) “We’re gonna be axel deep to a ferris wheel”

10) “…well we’d all be eatin’ rainbow stew and drinking free bubble-up.”

11) “Why don’t you get out a gun, and shoot your legs off?!”

12) “I’m working harder than a one-legged man in a butt-kicking contest.”

13) “That woman could jump-start a 747.”

14) “I didn’t see the end of your race, I was puking under the bleachers.”

15) “I’m warm and above ground.”

16) “You know you’re old when the best part of your day is a good bowel movement.”

17) “Only two things come from Oklahoma, steers and queers, and you don’t look like a steer to me.”

18) “He’s probably looking for sharp objects and high places.”

19) “He’s a fuzz pounder, huh?”

20) “You guys look like a bunch of bear cubs searching for their peckers!”

 

Dane Hamann – Class of 2006

 

 

I, too, must first thank Coach for his help with my desire to pursue graduate studies.

When I’m slumped at my desk, waiting for the day to be over, I sometimes reminisce about those sure-as-death-and-taxes Monday tempo runs and that damned fourth mile in Dundas that requires a brief but painful sprint up the hilly road. Coach would always be standing there, counting off mile splits, and inquiring if pitiable sprinter-types like myself wanted to become an innocuous pup-in-the-basket. I know that on bad days I took the offer—as did many of us for various reasons—but when I think about it, I don’t ever remember those tempo runs being that difficult. I just remember powering down those gravel roads under a glaring early autumn sun or overcast November sky, feeling stronger than I have ever felt before or since. More free than I have ever felt, too.

That was Coach’s power, what made the Big O under him so great. Thunder always believed in our abilities as student-athletes. He was always there, not forgetting even the last of us, as we struggled on home. He always addressed us with Men…and we responded in kind. It is a very fine and fortunate thing that we have had the privilege to learn and run under Coach. There are few people that I have met that are as gruff, respectful, and considerate as he. So, when I’m working or standing on my feet for hours, rubbing a hamstring that still gets sore, I’ll think of Coach, fast meets, and all the stories I could tell. But those stories belong to many of us because the best ones are the ones that we share and joke about years after they happen—stories of our antics and Coach’s stern but slightly amused demeanor at Kansas, Drake, MIACs, the Ole Invite, and many more. Somehow, despite all the conference and Karhu parties and general ridiculousness we managed to win a few meets here and there and still graduate from St. Olaf.

I believe the very first words Coach ever spoke to me were at the freshmen athletic informational meetings the day after I moved onto campus. “Are you sure you want to do this?” he asked—very reassuring for a freshman—as I handed in my papers for Cross Country. My response remains the same, “Yes sir.”

 

Jeff Freund – Class of 2005

I don’t have one single memory of Thunder, in particular. Rather, the four years I was able to run under his tutelage, the single thing that stuck out most was his desire to make each and every one of his athletes better and constantly improve throughout our running careers.

His passion for running and competing was always evident and coach always knew when someone was giving everything they could during a race and one of his many favorite quotes that I will never forget was “Quit feeling sorry for yourself, and get in a goddamn race!” Thank you, Coach for always expecting more of us and never letting us become satisfied with our performances. 

 

Tony Hoff – Class of 2007

 

Those damn Monday tempo runs.  You don’t see workouts like that much any more; all the trendy coaches do neat little tempos that precisely target some magical threshold pace.  But Thunder’s 11-mile bakeoffs went way beyond mere physiological training.  Through dust and sweat all the way back from Dundas we learned to work as a pack, to face suffering head-on, and to dig something up at the finish that we didn’t know we had.

The Comanche, of course, was at each mile mark, and Coach would make damn sure you knew when you were selling yourself short.  He always had some smart comment about a sluggish stride, a widening gap, or an Oscar-worthy display of agony.

One still sticks out in my mind: “Quit feeling sorry for yourself and get back up there.”  I heard that many times; on Old Dutch Road, at Como Golf Course, and up to 25 times in a single miserable indoor race.

Even when Coach wasn’t around I would hear his voice in the back of my head, dismissing self-pity and pulling my mind back in the race. Those words made me stick on packs that I had no business running with, and beat a few of them too.

My senior year I pissed away most of my talent in overtraining, doing far too much running on my own outside of Thunder’s strenuous but sensible schedules.  A few bad cross races made it clear that I would be contending for the last scoring spot on the squad instead of a conference title this year.  I trudged down to Coach’s office one Sunday evening with every intention of handing in my laundry bag and hanging up the spikes.  He looked at me, and one more time reminded me to quit feeling sorry for myself and get back in there.  I returned to my team and poured my heart out through my shoes; and damn if there wasn’t more gas left in the tank then I thought.

I eventually did hang up the spikes, but I can still hear that voice any time life gets tough.  Coach, you taught decades worth of runners to never, ever give up.  I will always consider that the most important lesson I learned in college.  Thanks for being out there for us.

 

Jason Havey – Class of 2006

 

 

It’s hard to squeeze all my memories of Thunder into one paragraph. So I won’t. Here’s just some of the things he said to me in my four years at Olaf…

 

“Jason, you can go to hell.” -at 2004 NCAA XC after I asked for my per diem for snacks.

 

 

 

“Jason, you can’t run a 5k for sh#!, but you make a mean cup of gatorade!”- after I got spanked at St. John’s and he needed something to wet his whistle.

 

 

 

 

“Jason, will the sun come up tomorrow?”

 

Coach: “Where in the hell is Will Mitchell”

Me: “He’s coming, coach”

Coach: “So is christmas!”

 

“Jason are you a happy camper?  or a crappy hamper?”

 

“You can wish in one hand and sh#! in the other.  See which one fills up first.”

 

I’ll never forget the glare/grin he gave us when he knew we were up to no good.

 

 

 

I’ll never forget the picture we took with the duck right after we won conference over those damn dirty carls and coach was grinning from ear to ear.

 

I’ll always remember the first time coach gave us the spiel about thinking before doing and asking ourselves if our parents would approve of what we were about to do. That was week one of my freshman year right after a stroll through a certain campus eatery with paper bags on our heads. Then we always got to hear about a little bird.

 

Lastly, I’ll always remember the ride down to Luther when coach pulled over on the highway in iowa to let us urinate in front of on-coming traffic, and he didn’t have to go because he always travels with a cup.

 

Jon Pearce – Class of 2001

Give me my soap…

As is well known, the track team had a particular infatuation with remaining “squeaky” clean and used liberal amounts of soap to ensure our hygiene on a daily basis.  Because of this, the janitorial staff had to constantly refill the soap containers – daily.  Word got back to Thunder and an ultimatum was issued: no more soap in the locker room.  While it would be noble to say we were all worried about our cleanliness, the sullen attitude in the locker room the next day was mostly due to the lack of squealing distance runners (sprinters excluded of course).  One apology letter later to the janitorial staff and we had our soap back…a bell rings in the distance.  Through it all Coach maintained complete alliance to the staff…but I’ve always like to think that alone in his office, pecking away in ALL CAPS on his keyboard, that he broke a small smile and remembered his days full of p&V and slap and tickle.

* Driving back from La Crosse last chance meet in 2001, I took the wheel of the van for a tired Thunder (it was much later than his 8:00 PM bedtime).  Bumping along HWY 52 coach’s only words were:  “Keep her ‘tween the ditches Pearce…”

* One of my first practices, during warm-up coach was grilling me on whether I expected to run faster.  I replied, naively, that “I hoped so.” The Voice of God rang down “Jon, hope in one hand, sh*t in the other and see which one fills up first.”

* The look on Dan Streit’s eyes when coach told him, Leatherman in hand, that he would cut off his balls if Dan didn’t return the throwing equipment as requested.

* As a Kansas boy, it was magical to run for St.Olaf at the KU relays.  Even better was sitting with Coach (and Rife) during the meet.  To this day, I’m not sure I was actually good enough to run on the team, but I thank coach for that opportunity. 

* Sitting in coach’s office in the off-season asking him how I could become a great runner.  He replied “You have to be good first.”

* “How’s it going Coach?” -> “I’m on the right side of the sod.”

* A year after graduation I was back on campus for an alumni event and happened to run into Thunder in Buntrock.  The first thing coach says is “You look like hell Jon.”  Of course I did, I explained, I was just recovering from severe pneumonia that sent me to the hospital and killed 30% of my lung capacity…”well, take care.”   

* Beyond the stories, Coach left an indelible mark on me.  He instilled an acute sense that I should always try to better the world and those around me.  While a little rough around the edges, Coach never conveyed anything but a sincere approach to making me a better runner and human.  I learned more from him and my time on the track than all of my classes combined.  More than anything, he prepared me to be a man and a productive member of society.  Oh, and to appreciate being rode hard and put in the barn wet.

 

John Holland – Class of 1995

First, Coach should be commended for his candid commentary.  If you are, in fact, going to prepare a multi-media presentation, you need to get a copy of the St. Olaf Track t-shirt (if I recall, from roughly 1994).  It lists on the back of the t-shirt all of Coach’s colorful phrases.  It seems to me you should get that and have it framed.  It caused a major stir that year in the Athletics department because Coach’s phraseology predates the era of political correctness.  If you need my t-shirt (and I can find it), I’ll donate it.

Second, Coach should be commended for his open-mindedness.  I, in particular, appreciated his recognition of the fact that Kentucky Fried Chicken, Davannis Pizza, and even truck stop malts & cheese curds could adequately serve the dietary requirements of the young athlete.

Third, Coach should be recognized as always having established clear priorities.  He is likely the only Kansas alumnus who could: (a) claim to have set a world record (in the 4×800), but (b) not be able to direct his St. Olaf student athletes to the location of Kansas University School Library.  (True story of a trip to the Kansas Relays: “Coach, where can I find the library on this campus?”  Response: “I can’t help you with that.”) 

Fourth, I appreciated Coach’s creative teaching style.  I recall that we were attending a meet one year at the University of Minnesota ’s indoor facility.  At the end of the meet, I told Coach that my parents were going to take me home for the weekend so I could spend time with family.  Coach didn’t buy that explanation, noting that, “I didn’t see your parents here today, John.”  That fact notwithstanding, he did not require me to board the team bus for the trip back to St. Olaf.  I expect that Coach knew that I would be walking across University Avenue to frat row to spend the night imbibing.  I did just that.  What I didn’t expect was to wake up disoriented the following morning on the U campus next to a big pile of spent cigarette butts.  It was only sometime thereafter that I realized that Coach had taught me a great lesson: if you abscond from friends & family to spend a night drinking, don’t lay down to sleep next to a big pile of spent cigarette butts.

As for compiling further contact information, you should check to see if the Alumni Department can supply you with email addresses for Track Team members as I note that the online website doesn’t list any email addresses.  If and when there is to be a retirement gathering, we’re counting on you to arrange it and invite us.