Teamwork Gives These Students a Head Start

Lisa Marino, cross-country coach at Bolsa Grande High School, admits that her team--made up of youngsters from China, Laos, Mexico, Pakistan, Palestine, the Philippines, South Korea, Vietnam and the United States--must have thought her a bit odd the first time she starting singing as they jogged through the streets of Garden Grove.

Especially when Marino, a Dallas transplant with a Texas twang, broke into a heartfelt rendition of “Get Along Little Doggies.”

“I can’t sing worth a flip,” laughs Marino, 26. “But it kind of breaks the monotony. I think the kids probably thought, ‘What a weirdo!’ ”

Weirdo might have come to their mind then, but not anymore. To the Bolsa runners, Coach Marino is simply the best.

It doesn’t take long to understand why.

Marino, a special education teacher with no previous coaching experience, last fall took over the program that had only five returning runners. Today there are 33 total on the team.

Her on-campus recruiting methods and her flair for motivating students have brought a special spirit to the team. Although they are far from being among the county’s best--the varsity is young and struggling--the Matadors are rich in pride.

Marino, who said she relies on several interpreters on the team to help her communicate with those who speak little English, required her runners to learn Bolsa’s alma mater and fight song so they could sing it before races. In return, they get to dump ice water on her after every competition they win.

In her classroom, Marino keeps a radio tuned to a New Age station for background music. Three cross-country trophies--from freshman and junior varsity invitational competition--take a prominent place by her desk. Close by, there is a flyer for a summer running camp in Catalina. On it, Marino has printed in large letters, “MEET NEW GIRLS!!! MEET NEW BOYS!!!”

“I’ll try anything,” she says.

Last year, sophomore Jim Aichelman was sitting in geometry class when he was summoned to Marino’s classroom. When he arrived, Marino told him she was signing up people for cross-country. Would he please join?

“I was so flattered, I had to sign up,” Aichelman said. It was a “pretty dirty trick, but I’m glad she pulled it on me because going out for cross-country has been the best thing that’s happened to me so far in high school.”

Asked about this, the other Matador runners nod their heads in agreement. Marino, they say, persuaded them to go out for what they thought would be a dull and difficult sport.

Instead, it has turned out to be an unforgettable experience, one Bolsa runners say has changed their outlooks on life and on each other.

“The first day, we were all strangers. Now we’re all friends,” says freshman Johnny Chau, who, like about 70% of his teammates, was born in Vietnam.

“We’re all like brothers and sisters. All of us are from different sides of the world. We have different religions and cultures. I thought we’d just be a team, but instead it’s a family.”

Certainly, the team is more close-knit than most. The boys and girls train together, cheer for each other--as well as competitors--at races, attend study hall together, have “positive-thinking team meetings” and eat lunch together in Marino’s room.

The lunch meetings started on the first day of school. Marino noticed many of the freshman runners wandering around, looking lost, during lunch break. The next day, she invited the runners--and any of their friends who wanted to come--to her classroom, where she prepared spaghetti on a propane camping stove.

Spaghetti, Marino learned, is a universal favorite. She later came to understand cultural preferences the hard way.

“I had a party in my classroom for all the freshmen who made the honor roll--you know, anything to try to talk kids into coming out for cross-country,” Marino said, smiling.

“I had bought all these cheese things--Cheese Whiz, cut up cubes of Cheddar cheese, cheese crackers . . . no one really ate any of it, and none of the kids joined the team. Later, I was told Vietnamese don’t generally like cheese.”

So as the athletes learn about each other, Marino learns--not only of their cultural differences but also of the problems and prejudices many of her foreign-born runners face.

“I went out once with this guy from Redondo Beach, and he actually asked me, ‘How can you stand coaching those Vietnamese kids?’ ” Marino said. “He couldn’t even say ‘Vietnamese’ right. It didn’t really hit me until then that there’s so many of these jerks in the world; they don’t even give these kids a chance.”

Marino believes in her team. Her pre-race pep talks, the runners say, are truly inspirational. At a Garden Grove League meet last week, freshman Nham Lam--”it’s Nham, as in non fat milk,” he says--stood up and did an animated impression of his coach.

“OK, team. How we gonna do? We’re gonna do great! We’re gonna win! We’re a team! I believe in all of you!”

A few weeks ago, Chau did not show up for practice. His teammates came to Marino saying they thought they saw him hanging out with the wrong crowd. The next day, Marino confronted Chau in study hall.

“She asked me why I wasn’t at practice,” Chau said. “She said she didn’t want me to hang around the wrong group. I was happy. It showed she cared. Most other coaches don’t care about stuff like that.

“I didn’t know anyone when I came out for the team. If I wasn’t on this team, I’d probably be with the guys robbing liquor stores.”

Instead, he is setting his sights on a college athletic scholarship. One of his teammates has a goal of running a marathon when he gets out of high school. Another says he wants to become a coach--”just like Ms. Marino.”

As for the coach, she’s trying to figure out a way to make a recent dream come true--getting the entire freshman team to vacation in Hawaii by the time they’re seniors.

“It’s going to be real expensive, I know,” Marino said. “It’ll probably take years of fund-raising. But we are going to do it. We’ll find a way. I really think if you believe in something strongly enough, you can make it happen.”

Judging from what Marino already has made happen, the Matadors can start learning to say aloha.

Barbie Ludovise’s column appears Wednesday and Sunday.