Girl Runners Give Football Coach a Lesson

You’d think someone would have briefed Dave White on the particulars. Let him know that distance running, like afternoon tea or meetings with the Queen, follows a certain decorum.

For instance . . .

Never refer to track spikes as “cleats.”

Never wear socks higher than your ankle.

Never, ever confuse running with jogging.

Running is a sport, a testament to tenacity, a Zen-like quest for cardiovascular nirvana. Jogging is something you do in the park before Sunday brunch, usually while wearing color-coordinated sweatbands.

But White, the highly respected football coach at Edison High, knew none of this when he stepped in to coach the Chargers’ female distance crew this year. Being the poker face he is, he fooled ‘em all.

“Actually, he needed a lot of help,” senior Shelley Taylor says. “He caught on pretty quick, though.”

He didn’t have much choice.

When White accepted the job in January--replacing walk-on Stan Stauble, who resigned--he was taking on the No. 1 girls’ distance corps in the county. The Chargers won a State cross-country championship last fall. They were ranked among the top 5 in the nation. And Taylor, one of the county’s finest talents since Mary Decker, was hoping for her best track season.

Here’s the key to the Rolls-Royce, Dave. Never mind if you know how to drive.

Certainly, the fact that White started running as a hobby last year didn’t hurt. Nor did his eight years of coaching Edison girls’ basketball (his team won a Southern Section title in 1987). And surely he wasn’t complaining about leaving spring football duties to his assistants.

“I took a good look at the situation,” White says. “I thought, ‘Yeah, why not?’ ”

The Charger runners weren’t so convinced.

Said freshman Jeannie Formosa: “We were all, ‘Great. A football coach. How weird .’ ”

But White went to work. He read books on running and asked area coaches for advice. He spent an afternoon with Orange Coast College Coach Gordie Fitzel, who coached the Edison girls to national prominence in the late 1970s. He put his trust in Taylor to guide him.

White learned that intervals are an integral part of distance training. That LSD is not a drug--it’s long, slow distance. That fartlek is a Swedish word meaning “speed play,” and not something to snicker at no matter how strange it sounds.

He learned that cross-training works. That only fresh legs make the grade. That pacing, in track, is as important as the pass on third-and-long. And that, somehow, you’ve got to try and keep it fun.

His runners, meanwhile, were having their own investigation. Not that they needed to ask. Every football player on campus wanted to let them know what they were in for.

“They were like, ‘Oh, girls, you’re bummin’ ! ,” sophomore Janndee Evans said. “They were all asking, ‘Doesn’t he yell?’ ‘Isn’t he mean?’ ”

Mean? White takes the girls to breakfast. And to lunch. Gives them roses on race day. And inspirational poems.

He even joins them at their pre-meet “potato parties”--featuring spuds, the party vegetable.

It’s a wonder the Chargers put up with such torture, really.

As for White, he says he’s loving every minute of it. The girls are fun to coach--with a 3.5 team grade-point-average, those routine eligibility checks are a breeze--and he’s learning more about running every day.

Not that the Chargers let him forget who he is. These girls are a real group of jokers, football being their favorite material.

“We’ll be standing on the starting line going, ‘OK, huddle up, now . . . let’s look for the pass!’ ” says Taylor, lowering her voice 10 octaves or so.

Of course, Taylor says, they don’t say those things to his face. They only do that when it’s important. Like when they had no choice but to inform him that wearing long, white socks--especially around the track--is for geeks.

White thanked them for their input. And doubled the number of their daily pushups and situps. Somehow, this charmed the Chargers further.

“We do more weights, too!” Taylor says, holding up her arm to proudly display a bump impersonating a biceps.

“See how buff I am now?”

White, a football, basketball and baseball player for Edison in the early 1970s, figured he could improve his conditioning as well. When time came for the first speed workout, White jumped on the track--and tried to hang on.

Suddenly, a whole new world opened up for him. A world of oxygen debt, lactic acid, nausea, anaerobic shock. . .

“It was a real easy workout,” Taylor says with a smile. “But it was, well, pretty hard for him, I guess.”

“They killed me,” White says. “Just killed me.”

A few days later, he got his revenge. He probed the depths of his soul for a workout the Chargers would never forget. Finally, he had his answer.

Cartwheels. Ten in a row. No fair stopping.

Might not be proper, but at least it’s not jogging.

Barbie Ludovise’s column appears Wednesday and Sunday. Readers may reach Ludovise by writing The Times Orange County Edition, 1375 Sunflower Ave., Costa Mesa, 92626 or by calling 966-5847.