A little over two weeks ago, I received an urgent email from my high school track coach asking me to give him a call. It is rare to hear from him so as soon as I read the email, I gave him a call. He informed me that my high school was having a centennial celebration that coming Saturday and that he was planning on going to it. This was the first I had heard of the celebration and obviously had not planned on attending, but Coach was being his enthusiastic self and urged me to come. I told him that I would indeed attempt to come.
Since my brother, who resides about 50 miles away, is also a graduate of Victor Valley High School, I persuaded him to accompany me on the long (440 mile) drive from the Bay Area to Victorville. We arrived just in time to partake of the festivities which for me principally meant talking with coaches and remembering events from a long time ago. Surprisingly, many of the coaches who were most instrumental in my life were present at this centennial. There was Felix Diaz, the man who taught me how to do the "Western Roll" in the high jump and helped me achieve the one great athletic achievement of my track career. Felix later became a Councilman for the fair City of Victorville.
Then there was the coach who sent me the urgent email, Len Miller, my cross country and track coach from 1968-69. Len is the man who believed that I was going to emulate the African runners who made such a splash at the 1968 Mexico City Olympics, and become his first American "Kenyan" runner. Len encouraged me to go out for cross country in my first year of high school and had visions of turning me into a world class miler. But alas, while I had the body of a Kenyan, I did not have the heart, the endurance nor the speed of a Kenyan so I disappointed him in that regard. Nevertheless, I was able to jump a little bit and surprised us all later when track season rolled around. Somehow, I was able to jump well enough to set the school's Class "C" high jump record that year and to take second place at the League Championships. A remarkable feat for a stick figure who often got blown around by the wind.
Sadly, my greatest athletic accomplishment was very early in my track career. Len Miller left Victor Valley in 1969 and my hopes for some grand athletic career seemed to go with him. However, Len would go on to first Laguna Beach High School and then to UC Irvine where he did eventually find his world class miler ... a guy by the name of Steve Scott. One fine July day in 1982, in Oslo, Norway, Steve Scott would run the mile in 3:47.69. Steve's time would be the American record for the mile for the next twenty-five years.
And then there was Ollie Butler, the legendary basketball coach who won over 600 games at Victor Valley High School and whose name now is imprinted on the basketball court where the centennial ceremonies were held. I never had the athletic talent to play basketball for Coach Butler but, in 1969, this white coach, who was born and raised in Tennessee, did something that would change my life for ever. In gratitude for the accomplishments that his black ball players had made to his coaching career and his life, Coach Butler did something that was unusual for the time and the place. During the summer of 1969, Coach Butler taught a course on Black History in the very conservative, predominantly white town of Victorville, California, and I just happened to take it. It was my first formal introduction to the history of African Americans ... and it is ironic that it was taught by a white Southerner.
Seeing these three men together again caused me to reflect on how important certain people are in our lives. I truly would not have been able to achieve what little I have achieved without the contributions of these men. And when I talk of achievements, it is not sports that I am talking about, it is life. There are lessons that one learns from such men that one carries with you long after one has walked away from the court or the track. Lessons about dedication, discipline, determination and desire. Lessons about the pursuit of excellence. Lessons about public service. Lessons about a perpetual optimism in the possibilities of youth. Lessons about teamwork. Lessons about brotherhood. Lessons about gratitude. Lessons about love.
These men are in their twilight years now, but their legacy continues to shine so brightly in all the lives that they have touched. And I, for one, am extremely grateful to be one of those who are part of their luminous legacy.
Peace,
Everett "Skip" Jenkins
Class of 1975
P..S. The news article about the centennial can be found at
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