I never saw Rafer Johnson throw a javelin or clear a high hurdle in the Olympic Games, but I saw him hold a special needs child in his arms, and dry the tears of a young boy in the Special Olympics who tried so hard, but just couldn’t make it to the finish line.
I never saw his greatness as an athlete, but I saw his greatness as a man. If you needed him for a good cause, he would be there.
It was 5:30 a.m. on a freezing February morning in 2007, and the 1960 Olympic Games gold medalist in the grueling decathlon was putting on his sweats, getting ready to drive from his Sherman Oaks home over the hill to his alma mater UCLA to run sprints with track athletes 50 years his junior.
He was 72 years old and weighed 190 pounds — 15 pounds less than he weighed when he won the gold medal 47 years earlier. Walk the curves, run the straits. This was his workout six mornings a week.
On his way home later, he had a stop to make. The Los Angeles Unified School District was beginning a fitness program for overweight students. Rafer was asked if he’d commit to dropping by a school once a week for five weeks to motivate and monitor progress in the program.
These were kids who had not done well in physical fitness testing. The kind of kids he wanted to reach. What time and where, Rafer asked?
When he walked into a combined fourth and fifth grade class at Ranchito Avenue Elementary School in Panorama City, the kids froze. At 6 foot, 3 inches tall, and still chiseled, Rafer was an imposing figure.
I saw him freeze a lot of adults in banquet halls and fundraisers, too. Smile and remind them they had it pretty good. Could they share a little with all the excellent nonprofit groups out there working with the physically and mentally challenged? Sure they could.
Rafer spoke softly to the kids, but his words carried a weight every teacher dreams of having with their students. They not only listened, they sat up and listened.
This wasn’t just a drive by, an athlete making a quick stop to tell kids to eat healthy and listen to their parents and teachers. He was there to listen to them, and give them some advice one of his teachers gave him a long time ago when he was a kid with big dreams just like them.
“Be the best you can be,” Rafer said. “No one can ask more.”
Don’t cheat yourself and cut corners. Don’t get lazy. You can walk the curves but you have to run the straits. It’s the only way to find out what you’ve got and who you really are.
“Did you ever get nervous in the Olympics?” asked one little boy. “I get nervous playing sports.”
“Oh, yeah, I was nervous all the time,” Rafer told him. “If you don’t get nervous, you might not be ready to do the best job you can do. It’s good to be a little nervous.”
Five weeks later, every one of those kids passed their physical fitness training tests. They did the best they could do. No one could ask more.
What a legacy he left behind. Rafer Johnson made everyone who met him a better person. All the gold medals in the world can’t beat that.
Dennis McCarthy’s column runs on Sunday. He can be reached at dmccarthynews@gmail.com.
