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by Hal Higdon
They call it "shagging out," or "The Shag." It happens mostly in high school cross-country just before the start of races and (as near as I can determine) mostly in northwestern Indiana, where I live. The Shag is practiced at meets like the New Prairie Invitational, which each September attracts approximately 2,000 competitors from 90 different schools. New Prairie offers eight separate races, all of which begin with runners shagging out. As a result, The Shag exists as a ritual, a ceremonial opening statement, a taste of more to come. It's like at the Indianapolis Motor Speedway several hours south, where they say, "Gentlemen, start your engines," after singing, "Back Home in Indiana." When I was coaching cross-country for the local high school a decade ago, I used to love being part of The Shag. I still enjoy watching it.
Here's how it works: A few minutes before the start of each race, the runners stand nervously on line in pre-assigned boxes, awaiting instructions. The starter, starting pistol in one hand, stands atop a ladder glaring down at them. Their coaches hover anywhere from 50-to-100 meters before the line. Several hundred meters further away, spectators wait cordoned behind ropes for The Shag to signal that the race is about to begin.
"Shag out!" the starter finally commands.
The young runners sprint to their coaches, forming circles for final instructions and a school cheer. "Go Devils!" "Gettum Trojans!" "Rah! Rah! Rah!" Then, pulse rates properly raised, they jog purposefully back to realign themselves in their assigned boxes. Within a minute, they are off and running: 4,000 meters for girls, 5,000 for boys.
Cross-country usually is not considered a spectator sport. While track meets and marathons at least attract token coverage, cross-country rarely gets seen on TV. Yet events such as the New Prairie Invitational (like age-group soccer games) often attract respectably large crowds. Figure out the numbers: 2,000 competitors times two parents plus siblings, friends and a few fans of the sport, people like me who love the sight of runners in brightly-colored uniforms darting in and out of trees resplendent in their autumn hue. Arrive late at New Prairie, and you have to scramble to find a parking place. Doug Snyder, head coach at the high school, estimates that 5,000 attend the Invitational each September with another 9,000 attending state-qualifying meets on the same course later in the season.
"The Invitational has one of the best fields in the state," explains Snyder, "and that does attract the dedicated fans, many of them recreational runners. In basketball, fans are stuck in the bleachers, but cross-country provides the same energy level as a World Federation wrestling match. The spectators run back and forth to different viewing points. When the leaves are changing, where would you rather be on a sunny Saturday morning?"
"Cross-country on the high school level probably peaked in numbers around 1980," claims Marc Bloom, editor of The Harrier, a newsy publication that focuses on cross-country. "The sport got a spurt when girl teams were added. It's one of the few school sports where girls and boys train together, often under the same coach." |
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