OMED: Michael O'Brien's tracks have been found in some controversial fields. He now covers sports for the Tillamook Headlight Herald   (Photo: Publicity shot of Mike O'Brien during his days in Hollywood.) 

First Published: May 30, 2006

There are things that may suggest similar anxiety, perhaps coming out for 
breakfast and finding the "60 Minutes" crew setting up a shoot in your 
backyard. Or maybe you lost a golf bet and you're now standing with an
apple on your head, waiting for your friend's hopefully skilled cousin to shoot it off with an arrow from 25 yards away. 

But, few anxious moments are more vivid and visible than many young 
athletes exhibit, when it comes down to the big race, throw or jump at the 
state championship track and field meet. That moment can come down to five or 10 seconds defining a year's work. 

On the hallowed grounds of Hayward Field at University of Oregon, you can turn in any direction 15 minutes before an event, at any athlete warming
himself or herself up, and feel the weight. 

Unlike other state championship moments, you see no coaches nearby 
steadying the nerves of a young boy or girl who has come to his or her time
of truth, after laboring for the past year toward the impending seconds of 
competition. 

The coaches are 200 yards away, behind the ropes, in the grandstand area. The 15-18 year- old athlete is looking up and down at the splendor of the 
the facilities, the huge crowd; forming a roof of noise on both sides of the old stadium. 

As you walk nearby a young boy or girl having those condors in their 
stomach, trying to ground themselves by practicing their mantra or physical 
preparation, getting little relief from either, you wonder. Wonder if you 
should urge them quietly, or, pretend you're not there, camera in hand, 
waiting to share their moment with an eternal glimpse, hoping it's a good one
— or just see, if they're one of your hometown kids, if they feel like
acknowledging you. If they do, they do it in the fashion of having a 1,400
pound gorilla on their shoulders as you catch an anxious smile, just cause 
they're polite young people. But you know. 

It's apparent many of the kids are one breath from fainting altogether or one
step from an instant metamorphisis into one giant cramp. Big scoreboards
with their names already up, awareness of the history of this place and who's
taken these same pre-event steps in the same place, different times. 

If they don't have the history, the Flo Joiner, Carl Lewis or Steve Prefontaine ghosts, to name a few, strolling alongside them on this turf, they're at the very least pinned to that time of their own moment, as they wait and warm up. I don't know, as a sports journalist, that there is any given demographic group
which can touch kids waiting for a state track and field final for pure discomfort. More than a few lending the impression they would go home right now, given the chance. I sat for some time in the registration tent, where the competitors gather for each race, no coaches, no parents, no comfort
zone. Entire four-person relay teams unable to talk to each other. 

The eight quickest kids in their classification ready to square off, most of  them already district champions, most of them needing to run a career best to fulfill a goal. All of them casing each other out as they try to hold their  breakfasts down. 

Somehow they get to the starting blocks or the pits. Somehow their turn  comes up; and they do rise to the occasion, somehow. But only one of eight
will win. Seven will bend over in pain having given their best and their season will thus end. Except for the well-deserved kudos for having made it to the 
big dance. But those come later. 

On the field there is joy and there are tears. . And they are so real. Those 
emotions represent the culmination of at least a year's hard work and 
dreams. Nothing plays like it. Anywhere. The pain in the eyes on the award
stand of two of our own, upon finishing second in the  state, simply said 
"keep your distance for a few minutes and let me work this  out." And that 
emotion comes from the triumph of being better than nearly every kid in 
Oregon. The smiles return, kids are resilient, but it burns to the core for a  short time.Watching Blaise Bennett come back and win a state championship in the 200-meters an hour after being inconsolable with his second-place  finish in the 100, on his birthday, was purely a joy. 

At Hayward, for a few minutes, it's just the boy or girl and their hearts on  their sleeves. It's hard not to love the dedication and sense of purpose they carry in and out of Hayward Field at state championship time. It's inspiring,
few things seem to mean as much to us adults, that is if we're not careful. At 
the same time you want to find a way to convince them that life is just under
way, if they're appearing inconsolable. They probably can't hear you if you 
do, at least for a few minutes. They need their own space to work it out. 

Thanks to the kids who bring that kind of dedication to their goals. It's not
something to shrug off. But, if we never see it, never feel their pain and joy
simultaneously, well, the world is a lesser place for those of us who support 
and cheer them on. 

It's really on display at Hayward. Everything good and noble about high 
school sports. And the amazing young people who leave their souls on the
field. Just one can win, but they can all rejoice in the opportunity. 

As may we as witnesses.

© 2006 Michael O'Brien