Making things happen
... with integrity
Monday July 19, 2004 Volume VI Number 29
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The Next Marion Jones by Ken Kemp |
t may be a bit too early to put her on the team, but all things considered, the girl some call the next Marion Jones is poised to fulfill her dream. She’s barely eighteen. And already, she’s blazing a trail to Athens.
She’s only been sprinting four years. She gained national attention when as a student at Los Angeles Baptist High School she broke Marion Jones’ high school record in the 200 meter sprint. The teenager stunned the world in 1992 with a blistering 22.67, and then went on to win the Gold in Sydney. Just last year, a new rising star shocked her classmates, coaches and parents with a 22.51.
It wasn’t long before agents, corporate sponsors, college recruiters and Olympic coaches swarmed around her along with an army of media people. A stunned Mom and Dad wondered, “How could it be?” Their little girl may already be a contender for the title “the fastest woman in the world.”
When I first met little Allyson Felix, she was an energetic four year old with bouncy braids and an infectious smile. Her mom, a school teacher, and her dad, an executive in the IT division of a major automobile manufacturer, were leaders in their church. Paul, restless in the world of corporate monotony, had his sights on ministry. On his own time, and at his own expense, he completed graduate work in theology, left the security of business, and took a staff position in a church. His reputation as a teacher grew, and before long, he was offered a post as a seminary professor and a Bible School president.
Both of their children love to
run. Allyson’s brother won varsity letters. But now Allyson, after years
chasing her high speed brother, is on the fast track toward the Olympic Games
in Athens.
The headlines trumpeted the announcement by Marion Jones, slated to defend her world title and her place on Team USA for Athens. Only twelve months after giving birth, she is back on the track. She has dominated so convincingly, that few imagined she would not continue overshadow even the young generation of sprinters, many of whom display enormous strength. But Marion, under the glare of media lights, suffered a high profile string of distressing entanglements with disappointing men. Add to that the controversy over drug use involving some of those athletes, and then suspicion over Marion’s own participation in illicit performance enhancing chemicals, in spite of her strong denials, mix it all together – and you have a formula for sub-standard performance.
In spite of all the challenges, in the Sacramento Olympic trials, Marion remained a contender. When she lined up for the 100 meter race, her personal best, she managed to cross the finish line after a sluggish start – but in last place. Then in the long jump, she performed well as she hoped, securing her place on the Team. She’ll go to Athens, and march in the opening ceremonies. And maybe even win another Gold. Not bad for a young mom.
But on the day of the 200 meter semi-finals, she stunned the media by pulling out of the competition altogether. She claimed to be fatigued. Well, who wouldn’t be? To compete in a single event is demanding enough, but in the rarified air, the stratosphere reserved for the athletes talented enough to be competitive in multiple events, well, the schedule is grueling. Relentless. Unremitting. You don’t show up if you aren’t ready. You don’t wake up the morning of the competition and complain of fatigue. You just don’t.
Unless you know you just can’t do it.
And you know in your heart that the carefully nurtured legend will vaporize in the dust of defeat.
The heroine vanquished.
The light from the shining star, extinguished.
That’s when you take your bow. Gracefully exit stage right.
And Marion did.
It was the legendary Carl Lewis’ sister, now a sportscaster, who completed the story of Jones’ stunning announcement and then turned the nation’s attention to Allyson Felix. Just out of high school. Age 18. “The athlete many believe has the potential to become the next Marion Jones,” she said.
And the camera turned to Lane 7,
and a powerful young athlete, the little girl I remember in braids running
through the living room as little girls do, chasing her big brother, and now
set to place her shoes carefully in the starting blocks and spread her fingers
and thumbs perpendicular right up to the starting line, take a deep cleansing
breath, close her eyes on concentration and then compete against some of the
fastest women in all the world.
I called to Carolyn, “Honey – she’s ON! Come in here!”
And thanks to TIVO, I put it on pause until Carolyn found her place on the couch.
“Ya ready?” I asked.
“Ready.” She said.
I hit play on the remote.
The starter fired his gun, and Allyson exploded out of the blocks and around the bend toward the straight-away.
* * * * * * *
When I walked into the hospital
room, Carolyn had newborn William in her arms. She looked up at me with one of
those Grandmother smiles. If you’ve never seen one of those on your wife, just
hang in there. It’ll happen before you know it.
It’s a different kind of smile. You think you’ve seen her in just about every emotional state – but not this one. It’s a brand new level of connectedness with her own children and maybe the entire universe, that only serves to add one more layer of complexity to this mystery we call womanhood. But it’s a good kind of complexity, don’t get me wrong. It’s a curious twist in that by now familiar mystery that keeps you interested. What it does is trigger a reciprocal smile in you in return for hers, one she’s never seen either. It has something to do, I think, with that biblical notion of the indescribable joy of grandparenthood.
This is our third visit to Huntington Memorial Hospital in Pasadena. The first one – painful. That’s when Isaac was born. Dr. Merchant was there. We still feel grief over that loss. But Dr. Merchant was there for little Kenny last time around and here again for little Will. It’s the same wing of the same hospital, where we’ve known hardship – but also, exhilarating joy.
So this week, Kenny welcomed a little brother.
And we welcomed another Grandson.
All this stuff you hear from my peers about the joys of grandparenthood? All the superlatives. The hyperbole. The underscores and bold type and the exclamation points. Still, none of them come close to giving you the full picture.
Don’t worry.
We can’t spoil it for you by
overstating the feeling. No matter how hard we try, it’ll still be better than
you could have imagined.
* * * * * * * *
So when Allyson started her race, it was clear, even from the wide angle shot taking in the entire stadium and all the runners.
This girl ran with confidence, and style and strength. She wasn’t pushing it. She ran with grace and flair and elegance, as though running is what she was made to do. I was on my feet, shouting in a room populated by only my wife and me, “Go Allyson! You can do it! Run, girl, RUN!”
And run she did. Winning her heat with ease. She even backed off the last few yards, knowing that for this race, she more than accomplished her goals.
At the time of this writing, I don’t know how the finals turned out.
But I have this confidence – we’ll be TIVO’n her race in Athens.
And perhaps, just perhaps, my friend the businessman turned Bible teacher and theologian, along with his educator wife, just may well be parents to the fastest woman in the world.
* * * * * * * *
It’s Monday morning. You are a leader.
We’ll soon be watching the Olympic Games again. We are inspired by champion performers. We leaders have a sense of what it takes. We may never have achieved that level of victory, but we know enough to understand the dedication and determination mixed with extraordinary gifts that makes for a young woman of destiny like Allyson. And from her, we take our cue.
We want to be more than mediocre. We want to be in a context that demands from us our very best. We want excellence.
And when we hold that little grandson in our arms, we rededicate ourselves to our future. We know we hold the future in our arms. And if – if we earn the appellation “Grandpa” or “Grandma” – and hear it come from the lips of those energetic, indefatigable grandchildren, then we know we’ve got a duty to perform. They will look to see if we are watching.
They will look to see if we believe – in them. In their parents. In each other. In our God.
So set your TIVO for the good stuff. Get control over the bad stuff.
And get ready with me for a future full of promise.
Posted in Valley Center, California
© Copyright Kenneth E. Kemp 2004
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