Josh Rife – Class of 2000

 

Although I have a plethora of memories with Coach Thornton, my favorite track times at St. Olaf involve my senior year trip down to the KU Relays.  Coach, Jon Berg, and I went down early so I could throw the hammer and Berg could compete in the decathlon.  Unfortunately for me, I didn’t have my best throwing day in Lawrence (despite Tim Johnson’s yelling of the “Mario Brothers” theme music every time I stepped in the circle), but that did nothing to detract from the experience.  The trip was capped by a visit to the Toot Toot Restaurant on the way home, at which Coach was beyond amazed at my dietary selections (“Josh Rife just eats plates of meat!”)

As we sat watching the meet on Saturday afternoon I mentioned how impressed I was with all the tradition and history associated with the Kansas program.  Coach got a little twinkle in his eye and asked if I would like to meet someone.  I quickly agreed and followed him up to the luxury suites situated in the press box.  As he wove his way through a gathering of important donors/former athletes (I was obviously also dressed for success—I may have been wearing my black and gold checkered warm-up pants), he suddenly stopped, tapped a man on the shoulder, turned to me and said, “Josh, I’d like you to meet Jim Ryun.  Jim, this is one of my athletes—Josh Rife.”  At that moment, at the ripe old age of 21 years old, I realized I still had the ability to become star-struck (and embarrassed by what I was wearing). 

I have no real memory of what I (briefly) talked about with Ryun, but I’ve always remembered the gesture by Coach Thornton.  He could have taken any of our athletes up to the press box, but he took only me—the one thrower that had made the trip down to Kansas.  I truly was blown away—I’m sure Coach had no idea how much meeting one of the greatest U.S. runners of all-time meant to me.  This moment crystallizes what I have taken from Coach Thornton above all—to really love the sport of track and the history involved with it, and to enjoy the moments spent with your student-athletes.    

I’ve had other coaches that taught me more regarding technique (although few that could whistle across an infield over to the hammer circle to give me some nonverbal visual cue involving various contortions and finger pointing) or performance, but NONE that made me really appreciate and love the sport I was involved in the way he did.  Before I got to Olaf, I didn’t really care about events at a meet beyond mine.  After four years with Coach, I now find myself staying up to watch the world championships in Japan or attending track meets where I have no vested interest in the outcome—I do it simply because I have come to love the sport.   And, perhaps most shockingly of all, this interest has led me to become a track coach at the high school and collegiate level. 

So, I thank you for everything you’ve given me Coach—your love of track, your ability to share a laugh or story with (almost) any friend or foe, your ability to be gruff but impart small compliments that mean the world to the recipient, the letters of recommendation you’ve written me over the years, your thoughtful advice to “find a woman that doesn’t have as fat as ankles as you (I) do,” and finally, for being the type of coach I aspire to be when I work with my high school and college throwers.  I’d like to think there’s a little Coach Thornton in me when I tell my Cornell throwers to “drink a big glass of suck it up juice” or “two balls per athlete” when they start throwing tennis balls before practice.  I, and the ones I impart this knowledge on, could only hope to be so lucky. 

“The modern automobile is technologically incapable of running out of gas.”