Paul Turner passed on in June 2007 after fourteen seasons as Harvard University's field coach. I considered him a major father figure and counted him among my closest friends and most trusted confidants. In what could only be an understatement: He'll be deeply missed. The following was prepared for a memorial booklet produced by The Friends of Harvard Track & Field.
In the midst of remembering what Paul Turner has done for each of us, as a coach, a mentor, or a friend, let's not forget that as a coach, a mentor, or a friend he was also a teacher. When I look back on my time at Harvard, I realize I picked up just as many ideas from Paul as from my seminars in the Yard. These ideas had less to do with ways of seeing things, and more to do with ways of living; less like knowledge, per se, and more like wisdom. Most of these ideas came out long after the sun had set on some howlingly cold evening in February, or May, somewhere in the dusty confines of the Gordon Track cage amid wobbly squat racks and machines Paul had built himself. Some were more straightforward than others:
"Drive your knee for more rotation when you jump."
"The Boston Celtics will never win an NBA Championship with Antoine Walker as their
starting power forward" (accompanied by Paul's trademark "Gawd!" and headshake with the
heels of his palms pressed into his temples).
"When your ankle is blue, dont run on it -- go see Gary."
Others were a little more subtle, so much so that I think I missed them at the time, or forgot them as soon as I learned them. Now that they've become clearer to me, I'd like to share some with you. I hope, at the very least, you've heard some version of them before.
First, Paul liked to tell me, "Take care of the things under your control, and forget the rest." On any given day, hordes of things happen that are out of your hands, some of which are truly unfortunate. Taking care of self won't necessarily prevent these unfortunate things from happening, but knowing you've been honest with yourself and done the best you could to prepare for these tricky turns sure makes dealing with them easier. It's a basic reminder to avoid self-pity and remain confident, knowing that -- come what may -- you can rely on yourself as a constant.
Second, while practicing was often a lot of fun, Paul would say, "Practice is nothing without performance." A softer way to put this is, "Honor your work." With Paul, everything was done with a purpose in mind. Why cheat yourself out of all your effort by not getting the reward it was designed to achieve? On a day to day basis, this bit of wisdom reminds you to take care of the small details in the eleventh hour, to make sure that you finish the things you've started.
Third, as Paul had to remind me constantly, "When performing, dont think, do." You can't map everything out, calculate everything perfectly. At some point, instinct has to take over and your job is to follow it. In the spirit of this point, I'll hold further words...
Finally -- and this might sound a little strange coming from the same coach who emphasized performance with me so much -- Paul taught me, without ever really saying so, that "There are virtues in not being number one." After four years, Paul convinced me that it was more important to elevate those around you so that some member of your group will ultimately come out on top than to be top dog yourself. In other words, the performances of those around you can be a point of pride for yourself. And it's funny, the moment I stopped trying to beat everyone is also the point I stopped beating-up on myself, I started enjoying things more, and -- irony of ironies -- I became a better jumper... and a happier person. This aspect of what Paul taught me unfolds in a variety of different ways: give a little to get a little, do unto others, strive for something bigger than yourself.
If Paul was right about these things -- and I think he was -- that means I've gotten at least one thing wrong (and more than a few more, without a doubt). Since I got involved in track and field in high school, I was always drawn to what I saw as the basic principle of it all -- that no one could give you anything, except a chance to make good for yourself. I still think that holds true of the sport, but I now see that it doesn't have much to do with the people involved in it. You pick-up a lot more than a chance when you're around the right people. While he was physically here with us, Paul gave us many of us many things -- work-out plans, strategies, advice, good laughs, and friendship. But even though the guy in the polo shirt and jeans won't be down at the track with us (or us with him) anymore, that doesn't mean that Paul is gone. As long as we keep remembering and living out the things he taught us, he'll always be around. And hopefully we'll be better people in better places for it.