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College Running in the 1980s Dan Blatt
My freshman year was most difficult for a great variety of reasons; notably, after thirteen years in the same preparatory school, I was uncertain how to deal with an entirely new situation. And I didn’t know myself well enough; I wanted to blend in more than to stand out. I did not do a varsity sport and did not try out for the Freshman Review, a popular Williams variety show starring first year students. I didn’t get along well with my freshman roommates and often felt isolated in my dorm. I worked hard in my classes and had few close friends. It wasn’t until my junior year, later than most, that I found a place on the track and cross country teams. It was also that year that I first acknowledged my feelings for men to Williams classmates. In January 1983 (during my sophomore winter study) I acknowledged to myself in my journal that I was attracted to men and might want to pursue a relationship with one man, but I was afraid to acknowledge that publicly as that might marginalize me—and label me. Moreover, as founder/president of the Garfield Republican Club, my “coming out” would be newsworthy and thus a topic of campus gossip. I was not ready for that. During my junior year, I was becoming increasingly uncomfortable as a political activist, so I decided to end my involvement in the College Republicans. At the same time, I decided to go out for track—I had run with the Winter Track team my freshman year and had grown to like the coach—Pete Farwell. My junior fall, I learned that my roommate was gay. When I approached a classmate (who I assumed—correctly—was gay), I soon learned that several of our friends were as well. I began to hint at my feelings to the first friend; it seemed as if the coming out process had begun. I fear my friends may have pushed too hard. I don’t name them here because I don’t fault them. They were young. I was young. We were all having difficulty dealing with this unfamiliar thing, being open about feelings we had long repressed. I don’t think I was ready then to publicly come out—to become the hot topic of campus gossip on an issue which was so personal to me—my tender feelings for other men. Indeed, my friends had suggested that I come out publicly, make an issue of it. So, after much thought (indeed, filling a whole journal book with thoughts) over winter break, I “decided” I wasn’t gay. I returned to Williams to push myself into my studies, added an independent study to my 4-course load, and ran as hard as I could with the track team. And while I was not a good enough runner to score points for the team, I ran as hard as I could during practice. Pete (my coach) and my teammates saw me doing my best and so I earned their respect. My junior spring, on the track team at Williams, I finally found my niche. Because I had found my niche, I was afraid to come out, afraid that that might distinguish me from my teammates and that I might lose that sense of belonging I felt among them. I was aware that I was different. When they talked about good-looking women—and bemoaned that Williams women hid their beautiful legs underneath baggy sweatpants—I knew I was different from them. (It just never bothered me that Williams women wore sweat pants around college.) But, I didn’t acknowledge it. I wanted to belong. I liked my teammates. They were—they are—good people. My teammates encouraged me. They all cheered me on at the Little Three Track Meet in 1984 when I was trying to break the 5-minute mile. They knew this mattered to me, even if I couldn’t score a point for the team. I still tear up as I recall not only my 4:54 mile, but also the accolades I received from my teammates after the race. I belonged. My goals mattered to them. Maybe I could say that my success that day gave the team a psychological boost. Amherst was expected to beat us that year. But, we beat them, winning the meet. I can still recall the exhilaration of running a victory lap with the team around the Amherst track. Would it all have ended if I had come out? I can’t say. I don’t know. What I do know is that I feared that it would. I feared that if they saw me as different, my goals would no longer matter, that I would be ostracized. But, those are my fears and I would dare say the fears of anyone who has found a place where he belongs, only to note that he is different in some significant (yet unknown to the others on the team) way from his peers. Today, I would like to believe that given my affection for my teammates, they wouldn’t have cared if I had come out. After all, I didn’t run on the Jewish High Holidays and many of my teammates appreciated my commitment to my faith. They weren’t Jewish themselves, but, if anything, my faith helped make me closer to the team. Several runners asked me thoughtful questions about Jewish ritual. Would they have been as open to another thing which made me different, my sexuality? In the years since Williams, I have become increasingly open about my sexuality, in the sense that I no longer feel compelled—as I did at Williams—to keep quiet about it. Most of my teammates now know I’m gay. It doesn’t seem to have changed their opinions of me. I know of at least one other runner who came out after Williams. He remains close to his teammates (as his class had an especially high number of runners). My coach knows I’m gay and we remain close. Let me conclude by offering some thoughts: when we go to college, many of us are uncertain, leaving home for the first time. We are eager to find a place where we belong. I, like so many other Williams Ephs, found that on an athletic team, on the track and cross country teams. I had a great coach and good friends, people who appreciated my efforts and pushed me to achieve my goals. Being young and uncertain, I feared this great experience would end if I came out. Even if I weren’t ostracized, I might have felt isolated from the team. Because they knew I was gay, they might not have included me in certain social activities. But that was a fear, not a fact. We all fear how standing out might distinguish us—and hence isolate us—from our peers. That fear, unwarranted though it may be, explains why I didn’t come out while in college. I didn’t want to lose one of the best things I had at Williams. B. Daniel Blatt, a writer based in Los Angeles, California has completed
five
screenplays, including an adaptation of Beowulf in which he discovers
the
Beowulf-poet, more than 1,100 years after the poet's death. He
is at work on
two screenplays (In Dreams Disclosed and The Last Campaign) while he
is writing
a short film, Laura's Phoenix and a play, Two Men & Aunties Mame. A
cum laude
graduate of Williams College, Blatt studied literature in Europe at
the
Sorbonne in Paris and Albert-Lüdwigs-Universität in Freiburg/Breisgau,
Germany.
In 1994, he received his J.D. from the University of Virginia School
of Law.
He has also written a novel, Calypso's Cave. In addition
to his current
writing projects, he is a Senior Volunteer/Theater Manager at Outfest,
Los
Angeles' gay and lesbian film festival. The founder of Ephs-in-Entertainment,
a
networking group for Williams alumni in the entertainment industry,
Blatt
currently serves as president of the Williams College Alumni Association
of Los
Angeles.
Blatt enjoys hiking, talking about movies, politics, psychology and
mythology
and reads voraciously, including books in French and German and poetry
in Old
English. He particularly enjoys the novels of George Eliot,
the poetry of
William Wordsworth as well as Joseph Campbell's writings on mythology
and Carl
Jung's on psychology. He stays in shape through a vigorous
cardio and weight
routine and is devoted to his ten nieces and nephews.
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Like many students at Williams College, I struggled to find a place
where I felt I belonged. For many students, it was relatively easy. They
got along well with their freshman roommates and others in their dorm
and easily found a niche. Others who had had positive experiences
in high school sports signed up for the same sport as freshmen and found
their niche with the Williams team. Still others found a niche
in extracurricular activities.