Mable Talks to Coach Johnson

I left for school early. After making myself a piece of toast, I left Mother a note. I think both she and Grandma were pretty tired from yesterday. Uncle Albert and Aunt Helen were just starting to come down to the kitchen as I went out the front door.

I told them, “I need to get an early start today. Good luck at the doctor and have a safe trip home. Love you!”

They really didn’t have a chance to answer. I needed to get out of there and have a nice quiet walk to school without any distractions. It was barely light out. I knew Mother would make me wait until the sun came up a little higher, and I was a bit afraid that my aunt and uncle might try the same “It’s not safe” argument on me. Our Oak Park area was very safe. Sure, there were a few gangsters and bootleggers in Des Moines, but not in our neighborhood!

I knew Coach Johnson would be in his classroom early. He also taught anatomy and biology classes. He would be in his room doing all the planning for his classes before school started in the morning.

I knocked on the door of his classroom and through the window in the door, I saw him look up. He was obviously busy with papers stacked all over his desk, so I knew I would have to be quick with my request. He motioned for me to come in, and with a big smile he said, “Well, if it isn’t our state champion, Miss Mable Hall. Congratulations, young lady. You and that girls’ swim team really showed the whole state how to swim! I can’t wait to see that new trophy in the trophy case.”

I think I blushed a little, but managed to press forward with my mission, saying, “Thanks, Coach Johnson. We had a good time. Now that the season is finished, there is something I want to talk to you about, if I may?”

“Certainly, Miss Hall, what’s on your mind?”

Golly, this was happening faster than I thought it would. I had to get right to the point. I was mentally kicking myself in the pants for not giving the details of this plan more thought. I started with, “Coach, you know I love to swim, and you know I am really fast, right?”

“Yes, Miss Hall.”

I was having a hard time looking at him, so I pretended to be picking something off the sleeve of my sweater and continued, “I have been thinking about this for quite a while; since the beginning of the school year, actually.”

“Thinking about how fast you are?” Coach asked, sounding unsure of where I was heading.

“No sir,” I started stammering, “I have been thinking. . . that I . . . would be a great . . .addition. . . to your swim team.” There, I said it. I rapidly added, “You know I can beat almost every boy on your team!”

“Whoa, little lady!” he cautioned, “How do you know that?”

This part I had thought about a lot. “I know that because I know their times. You know their times, too. You know I can beat them.”

“Miss Hall, it’s a boys’ team. It is for young men. Not for young ladies. Your swim season is over and it’s time for you to go out for basketball.”

“Please, Coach? I’d rather be swimming, and you know I could help you win more swim meets. Maybe even a state title, like the girls’ team.”

I realized there was a begging tone to my words, so I stopped right there. If he was a good coach, he would want the best people on his team. I was not going to beg. My intention was to persuade. Obviously, he was going to have to be persuaded. Perhaps this morning was not the right time for that.

I stood there, and he was looking down at the papers on his desk. I decided it would be best if I left soon and let him get back to work. He also might need some time to think about what I said. I tried to think of what I should say next.

He finally looked up and said, “I have a lot to do right now, but our practices start soon. I will need to speak with the principal and the boys on the team. I will need to check the state rules and see if there is anything that applies to this situation. Right now, I don’t see how you being on the boys’ team would work well at all. I appreciate your enthusiasm and you are a fine young lady, but it is a boys’ swim team. Please excuse me now. I don’t mean to be short with you, but we will have to finish this discussion later. Come and see me during lunch today,”

That sounded almost like a big ‘no’ to me, but he really didn’t say the word, and he had asked me to come back and talk to him at lunchtime. ‘Maybe’ was better than ‘no’. My plan could still happen.

I knew this particular discussion was over, though, so I offered, “I can talk to you about this later. I understand you are busy and need to check on the rules. Thank you for talking to me.”

I backed out the door, and left him with, “I hope you have a good day of classes, sir.”

I fell back against the lockers right outside his room. That conversation was a whole lot harder than I thought it would be. I had to be better prepared next time. What I needed to figure out was the best strategy to use to convince him. I needed to talk to Burnie. I needed to talk to Dad.

It was still pretty early to be at school. As I walked past the classrooms up there on second floor, it seemed like only about half of the teachers were there yet. I headed downstairs to the front office, hoping to find another early student to talk to. There stood Burnie! Right in front of the principal’s office.

“You left without me this morning, kiddo. Why didn’t you knock on my door before you walked over here?” Burnie asked.

“I had to get over here to talk to Coach Johnson, alone, before school. I wasn’t going to wait for a whole crowd of kids to be up there. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I needed to get it done. Boys’ swim practice starts soon.”

“Well,” Burnie offered, “so does girls’ basketball practice. Which one are you going to?”

“I’m not sure yet. He asked me to come back during lunch. Coach said he had to check on some things, like talk to the principal and look up some of the rules. He didn’t sound very positive, Burnie. I’m a little discouraged, but I’m not going to give up.”

Burnie nearly snorted through his nose trying to laugh and talk at the same time. “Oh, I know that, Mable. You are definitely not going to give up! I’m feeling sorry for Coach Johnson right now. With you trying to convince him to let you on the boys’ team, he’s got a real tiger by the tail!”

I gave him a sweet little smile and said, “I’m going to take that as a compliment, Burnie. Thanks.”

Other students were starting to arrive now. The debate team had their meeting before school, so did the Student Council and Future Teachers Club. Mother thought for a short time that I would be a teacher, but by middle school, she had given up on that idea. Dad had me excited about sports, and I was already proving to be a skilled writer by seventh grade. That was when I made my decision to be a sports writer.

Dad was very happy and proud about that; Mother was wondering “what will become of her?” I thought it was a funny question, and Dad did also, but he never said so in front of Mother. He kept assuring her that if I knew enough about sports and if I was an excellent writer, some newspaper or magazine would hire me.

That never satisfied Mother, though. Then she started asking, “How can she be a sports writer and get married? Or have a family?”

That’s when I would leave the room. Dad always defended me with comebacks like, “She’ll find the time, I’m sure. All good things happen in their time. I think you are worried, Henrietta, that she is going to become a flapper. We have raised her better than that. She does not have time for that sort of thing.” Dad sure was right about that. I just wanted to swim and write.

The halls were becoming filled with students now and getting louder, so it was getting hard to have a conversation with Burnie. We had to get to our lockers and to our first class.

“I’ll see you at lunch, Mable. Need to get going now. The bell is about to ring,” Burnie said as he turned and stepped out into the river of students hurrying to class.

“I can’t eat lunch with you,” I hollered after him, “I need to go see Coach Johnson again.”

I think he answered with “good luck,” but he was drowned out by all the other students and their chatter. I would have to tell him after school.

My three morning classes went extremely slowly. I was sitting up, paying attention, taking notes, answering teacher questions, but I might as well have been home, lying on my bedspread, daydreaming. All I could think about was being on that boys’ swim team. I could think of nothing else. I was visualizing myself swimming against the boys, beating the boys, being the star of the boys’ team. I kept telling myself, “this could happen.” The morning lasted ab-so-lute-ly forever!

The bell rang for the end of class and the beginning of lunch. I had my third class on the first floor, so I had to run up the stairs to Coach Johnson’s room. Students were still leaving the classroom when I got there. Casually leaning against the lockers, I waited. Coach followed the last student out and then stood next to me at the lockers while the hall emptied.

It was hard to tell his decision by the look on his face. It looked pleasant enough; I was hoping he had the answer I wanted.

He began with, “I had time to talk with the principal and time to telephone the Athletic Commissioner for high school athletics, Mable. They have never had such a request before.”

He paused, and his face became more serious. “I wish I could give you a better answer, but they don’t think I should allow it. It’s not against any rule, but neither man thought it was a good idea at all.”

That still wasn’t a “no!”

Since it seemed like he was done talking, I jumped in with, “Well then, if there is no rule against it, I think you should give me a try at it!”

“What I’m trying to tell you, Miss Hall, is that I’m not sure it’s a good idea, either. I think I need to talk to your girls’ swim coach, and maybe a couple of other boys’ swim coaches in the city. And I especially need to talk with the boys on the team, too. This is just so different than anything else.”

I bounced back with, “That doesn’t mean it’s bad, just because it’s different. Miss Hawn didn’t think a girl sports editor was a good idea either, and now she’s really glad she gave me a chance. This is the same thing.”

He shook his head. “It’s not really the same, Miss Hall. There are other girls on the newspaper staff. There are no girls on any boys’ swim team.”

“But, Coach,” I pleaded, “the girls are on the newspaper staff because they are good writers. I would be on the boys’ swim team because I am a good swimmer. It is the same!”

He looked right at me. “For now, the answer is no. I need to talk to the other coaches and to the boys on the team. I will let you know if I change my mind. You should go get some lunch now.”

I could see the conversation was over, but I was not going to accept this as a final answer. “How about this, Coach Johnson, may I come back and talk to you in a week? That will give you more time to hear from other people. Just remember, I’m the best swimmer in this school. In the whole city. Actually, I’m the best backstroke swimmer in the state of Iowa. You could use me on your team!”

He let out a very deep sigh. “This is hard, Miss Hall, because I can tell you are very serious about this, and I know you are a terrific swimmer. I need time. Next week, okay?”

I knew that was about as much of a commitment as I was going to get for now. I didn’t want to let it go, but I had made up my mind I was not going to beg. “Okay, Coach. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, Miss Hall. And again, congratulations on your state records.”

“Thanks again, Coach. I’ll see you next week.” I turned and walked away, trying not to look discouraged and trying not to be discouraged. Dad would not want me to give up.