By John Scanlan
“When you lift weights, it’s like strappin’ metal around your joints.”
I will always remember that line.
Our new head football coach, Mr. Perry Griffith, had screamed that very sentence at us. It was a valiant attempt to motivate sixty country bumpkins at an early football practice in the summer of 1974.
That autumn, I would be a bonehead sophomore at Logan Elm High School, thirty miles south of Columbus, Ohio. Thus, it was with wide eyes and open ears that I followed this man pacing back-n-forth, ranting in front of us.
It was obvious that Mr. Griffith was an advocate of weightlifting. His whistle dangled in front of a massive chest that strained the buttons on his Polo shirt. Furthermore, his bulging biceps stretched the seams of the short sleeves. He wore classic, black spandex, coaching shorts that went down to his knees and vintage high, white athletic socks. Peeking out from between the shorts and the socks on his left knee was a six inch scar—the result of a surgery that had abruptly ended his college football career.
Hmmm . . . was his bellowed statement derived from a painful lesson learned?
I finished that 1974 football season “ridin’ the pine”, as they say, and not earning a varsity letter. Then, as luck would have it, Mr. Griffith was my wrestling coach over the winter of 1974-75. That was one loooooong, hard season.
Now it was spring of 1975, and I didn’t play baseball or run track. So you would think that I would’ve enjoyed the break. But noooooo, I was looking for something to do.
I swear I don’t know how he did it, but over the winter, Mr. Griffith convinced the Board of Education to turn the high school typing room into a weight room. The maneuver forced an entire classroom of desks and typewriters to be moved out to a new, modular style classroom.
Secondly—just by blind luck—my sophomore spring schedule finished the day with an eighth period study hall. Thus, I was able to respond to an odd request that came over the P.A. system one day: “WOULD ANY AVAILABLE FOOTBALL PLAYERS OR WRESTLERS PLEASE MEET COACH GRIFFITH IN THE OLD TYPING ROOM?”
I strolled down the hallway toward the former typing room, thinking “I wonder why he needs us?”
Consequently, I was there when UPS delivered a bunch of boxes that were really, really heavy.
And as Mr. Griffith ripped open those boxes, he was like a kid at Christmas.
They contained all kinds of plates and bars and dumbbells and instruction manuals, so I helped Mr. Griffith set up and organize his new pet project.
And so it went, one typical weekday eighth period at Logan Elm High School, where I was bored in study hall and thought “Hmmm . . .”
Then I sneaked out of study hall and ventured down to the new weight room.
There, I picked up one of the instruction manuals and bumbled my way through a series of exercises depicted by muscle-bound caricatures.
I was hooked.
That spring of 1975, I continued to lift weights during study hall and then stayed after school to lift some more. I bought a notebook to log my workouts. I bought a tape measure to track my gains.
Forty-one years later, I’m still lifting weights. Mr. Perry Griffith, teacher and coach, was the second most influential male in my life—after my Dad.
About the Author:
John Scanlan is a1983 graduate of the United States Naval Academy who retired from the Marine Corps as a Lieutenant Colonel aviator. He is now pursuing a second career as a writer and can be reached at ping1@hargray.com.