Carl and Buck

There are times I wish I could be two or three places at once.  Last month on a sunny April Saturday was one of these times. Currently, I’m a groupie on the Sully Buttes Class of 2016 “Farewell Tour” —something I would not miss for the world.  These days spent following Scott (and the 2011 Tour with Tate) will always be the best days of our lives.  This tour is slowing down, and I am sad.   Each event this year has been dutifully noted, sighed over, often times cried over, photographed, and will eventually be scrapbooked.  (Hey, a girl can dream can’t she?)  That particular Saturday, had I not been following Scott, I would have been in Winner.  I really wish it would have been possible to be in Winner.

High school activities played a huge role in my life.  I loved it all—music, sports, drama, journalism, student council, and being a Winner Warrior provided me with a vast wealth of experiences, friends, and memories.  My teachers, coaches, directors, and advisors during these days were people I greatly admired.   They were a close knit group and I often baby sat their beautiful babies when they gathered on Friday nights or traveled to out of town ball games.  (And now as an educator, I totally get the Friday night gatherings!)  I fully attribute my chosen career to many of these fine humans.  I admired them.  I wanted to be them.  And I would guess, without them even knowing it, they were a huge influence in my life.  Especially my track coaches Mr. Buckmiller and Mr. Carlson --affectionately known in area track circles  as “Buck” and “Carl”.( Just so they know, I could never call them Buck and Carl. Ever….) They will forever be Coach Buckmiller and Coach Carlson.  Always….

In my present state, I am sure the vision of me running and jumping is a stretch of the imagination for some, MOST of you.  Try to block that image out and just hang with me here because this is about two amazing coaches, not my “glory days”. (Which were not that glorious, but boy, were they fun.)  I was a decent track athlete and loved the sport.  Some of it came naturally for me—I had a little spring to my jump and found a home in the long jump pit.  I had some speed and that led me to the sprinting events, flights of low hurdles, and relays.  Track was a huge deal at WHS.  It was not uncommon to be stacked three to a seat in the old yellow, cheese box bus on meet days.  The bright gold, hooded sweatshirts screened boldly in deep purple with Winner Track on the front, were a popular look in town starting each year in March.  I loved being issued my track sweats---partially for the comfort, partially because it was cool to have a uniform, but mostly because I just loved track.  Being on the track team was big deal to me.  And I attribute that to the older athletes I admired and to the coaches running the program at the time—Coach Buckmiller and Coach Carlson.

I was a constant on the track team throughout my school career.  (I also continued to report each year for basketball—poor Coach Wanner and Coach Spicer.  I’m sure they dreamed of me hanging up my high tops and focusing only on cheerleading in the fall, but I was no quitter.  I loved being a Lady Warrior hoopster, too!)   In eighth grade, as with many younger female track athletes, I was allowed to run some high school meets.  They slipped us into individual events here and there to score points.  Being allowed to travel and interact with the high school kids was a new concept to the handful of us they hauled to the meets.  The sights and sounds of these trips are easily recalled in my mind each spring.  I just loved going to compete in track meets. 

There was a way to behave and compete at track meets and Coach Buckmiller demanded this from us. He was firm, but fair. Expectations were clear and goals were set for each meet.   It was not a day to throw Frisbees or lounge around in camp.  We didn’t have today’s fancy tents or gear, and if it was raining, they hauled the huge football jackets out and we pulled those on over our sweats.  We were there to represent our school and cheer each other on.  And if you weren’t running the mile relay, you best be standing somewhere around the oval cheering on your fellow Warriors who were running the finale.  We were a team and I loved that. 

Now I would be lying if I told you I loved the work behind the sport. The practices were intense, long, and often, gut wrenching----and I was a sprinter. I can’t imagine what those long distance folk were going through.  The infamous 100-200-300-400 climb and the descent back down 400-300-200-100, all set with a timed goal caused much grief and grumbling. (Imagine spending your afternoons listening to the collective whining from groups of teenage girls…)   I can assure you no Warrior boy trackster will forget the “4 Minute Mile” practice—usually held a few days before the regions.  This dreaded event involved running four, 400 meter races under 60 seconds. (The boys didn’t whine, they cursed…..and not always under their breath, which often led to another trip around the all-weather oval.)  But we were always in shape and ready for the season thanks to the two guys in the bleachers holding the stop watches.

On Tuesday I went to watch my favorite shot put/discus guy and his teammates compete for the Chargers.  My other favorite purple and gold team also attended this meet and there he was, my hurdle/track coach—Mr. Carlson.  Coach C. spent a lot of time turning me into a hurdler, and I will never forget his passion and praise for my successes or the times he wanted to rightfully choke me, but kept smiling.   He was a standout hurdler for Canton and went on to SDSU where he tore up the track and the NCC in his day.  I am not lying when I say I bet Coach could still run a flight of hurdles.   He looks just the same as he did when he was putting up with me all those years ago.  I’m happy for him as he gets the pleasure of coaching his grandson—another amazing athlete who I imagine looks just like Mr. Carlson did back in his C-Hawk days.  His oldest grandson winds down an amazing career at Augustana this spring and I know Coach Carlson relished the opportunity to watch him run the past five years.   I hope these current Warrior track athletes and their families appreciate what they have roaming their sidelines.  This man has unselfishly shared his time and talents for over 35 years with kids representing the 57580….To say it was wonderful to see Coach Carlson in action on Tuesday is an understatement.  When I was lucky enough to be coaching track in Timber Lake I would have kids running hurdles and I’d always want to take them to Winner to have Coach Carlson show them something or help them improve.  I did my best to help them, but knew he would have been just what they needed if only we lived closer.  And the best thing about this is I know he would have unselfishly helped them.  That’s who Coach Carlson is….a helper.

Last month, Coach Buckmiller was inducted into the Winner High School Hall of Fame.  He took his well deserved spot in the Hall joining Coach Carlson and others.  Coach Buckmiller was small in stature but loomed large in wisdom and integrity.  He spent his career making the Warriors a reputable track program.  There were titles won, expectations established, and facilities he over saw in his years at the helm of the Warriors.  One of my favorite stories was the time one of my treasured friends overslept on our way to a big meet.  Mr. Buckmiller drove the bus over to her house and Coach Carlson swiftly jumped out and ran up to the door to awaken our much needed relay girl.  As Coach C. was knocking on the door to their home, Coach Buckmiller sarcastically announced, “Can Diana come out and play?”  Those of us on the bus were not sure if we should laugh or not.  We knew he was annoyed.   As we waited, he made eye contact with some of us via the rearview mirror and we saw his small grin.  That was the sign—we could giggle.  And we did.  And we went on to have a great day on the track.   Coach Buckmiller’s quiet, serious demeanor was often misinterpreted by his athletes.  And certainly not appreciated until we were further down the roads we had chosen.  His planning, preparation, and personality were just we needed to be successful and I know most of never told him this….so I am doing it now.  Better late than never as they say…..Thank you Coach Buckmiller.

As I wind up my written ramblings, as a coach’s wife I would be remiss to ignore the lovely ladies that married these two special guys.  They spent track meet weekends alone at home with the children while these coaches spent time with everyone else’s kids.  Lucky for me I had the great pleasure of babysitting and teaching swimming lessons to both family’s beautiful kids so I got to know these fine women.  Melba and Becca—thank you.  Thank you for being THAT coach’s wife—the supportive ones who took care of things at home while the guys were off to meets all over the state. (or fishing….or golfing…)   If there was a Coach’s Wife Hall of Fame you’d be both be in the first class of honorees.

I’m sorry I missed both Coach Carlson’s and Coach Buckmiller’s Hall of Fame inductions.  There is only one person that would have kept me from attending…..and in fitting fashion he qualified for state that day in the shot put.  I think you would both approve.