By all accounts Frank Shorter’s dad, Dr. Samuel Shorter, was an abusive monster.* Dr. Shorter terrorized his 11 children, yelling at them in secret, beating them with a belt. Dr. Shorter was mean to his wife; the kids had to watch their mom being abused, too young to or say or do anything. Horrific. Equally terrifying for the kids was Dr. Shorter’s reputation in their hometown. He was as helpful to his patients as he was horrid to his family. Dr. Shorter delivered babies, “forgot” to send bills to families who were struggling financially, saved countless lives. The kids knew they wouldn’t be believed if they tried to tell the truth about their dad. Frank never knew what would set off his dad. “He’d wait until later, at home, where no one could see him.” Waiting for his dad to walk up the stairs, not knowing whose turn it was to be hit with the belt was unbearable. Can you imagine, trying to decide what to hope for—that your dad would come hit you with a belt of walk by your room to torture one of your younger siblings.
Frank Shorter won the gold medal in the 1972 Munich Olympics. He finished second to an unknown and undoubtedly doped East German in Montreal in 1976. Frank Shorter’s record-breaking results at myriad distances are too numerous to list. An abbreviated inventory includes being the only American to win two Olympic medals in track and field, a 4:02 mile, a 13:26 5K, an American record at 10 kilometers.
In the 1972 marathon Frank ran mile nine in 4:33 leaving the field of the best athletes in the world trying to understand what had just happened to their Olympic hopes. “I had the talent to go out fast, by myself, and ride the pain,” he said.
Frank enrolled in medical school but dropped out after six weeks. He subsequently earned a law degree. His professional life after running revolved around giving motivational speeches and talking with kids who had also been abused.
Needless to say, Frank Shorter is a personal hero of mine. Frank inspired the running boom in the United States in the 80s. He and I ran the same 10 K course in Miami some 40 years ago–although he was likely back at the hotel and showered by the time I crossed the finish line. But my essay today is not about the people I admire and who got me started running. I want to talk about making connections between two bits of personal information.
What inferences would you draw from the biographical facts above? Would you make any of the following causal links?
- Because Frank Shorter’s father was a hypocritical brute, Frank dug deep, ran past the pain, and became America’s premier runner in the 1970s.
- Coming from a big family was instrumental in helping Frank Shorter become a world class athlete.
- Frank went to medical school to prove that he was as good as his father, that he too could be a respected physician.
- Frank dropped out of medical school because he overcame his fear of his horrific father.
Any or all of the above statements could be true. I would not presume to guess. Yet people constantly mistake causality for correlation when talking about adolescents and where they go to college.
- Stacey attended NYU and was hired by a great firm, made a good living, and retired early.
- Robin matriculated at Stanford, got in with the wrong crowd and spent their 20s in and out of rehab.
I can substitute NYU and Stanford in the two hypothetical sentences above with any and every college in the United States. After 40 years of counseling students, I have anecdotal reports of good outcomes and bad results at every institution.
For every “Lee was admitted to Dartmouth because they play the tuba” I will show you another applicant with identical credentials–gpa, SAT, recommendations, essay, and tuba–who was rejected from Dartmouth.
For every “Andy was rejected at Northwestern because they only had 200 hours of community service,” I will point out another student who was admitted with–you guessed it–identical credentials. Some kids with 300 hours are also rejected, some kids with 100 hours are admitted.
Trying to equate one factor–tuba proficiency, community service–with an admission decision won’t work.
Similarly, equating the entire trajectory of a person’s life based only on where they went to college is the equivalent of suggesting that because I read a novel yesterday, I will be elected to the state legislature next year.
We like to make inferences, we like to figure things out, we like to be right. Simple explanations are especially attractive. But we ignore at our peril the other factors that help determine how our kids end up.
I’m horrified at what Frank Shorter had to endure. Child abuse is inexcusable. Period. But to infer that he won the 1972 Olympic marathon because of what he suffered is a stretch. Many children who have horrible childhoods never run a mile in five minutes never mind 26 of them. Indeed, Frank’s brother, Sam Jr., who grew up in the same house in the same town with the same parents was convicted and sentenced to prison for felony sexual abuse. Would you make the same argument–that Sam became a felon because his dad was an abusive monster? You can’t have it both ways. Does inexcusable parental abuse produce Olympic athletes of does indefensible mistreatment create criminals?
Next time you talk to a kid who has been denied admission at a number of highly rejective schools, give them a break. The rejection has more to do with the overwhelming number of applicants, less to do with any particular quality of the students. Think roulette wheel rather than imperfect application.
And whatever you do, understand that child abuse in all its forms harms kids rather than helps them. Parents who hit kids are just wrong. They are not helping their kids in any way. “When you hit a child he doesn’t stop loving you; he stops loving himself.” They don’t necessarily go on to Olympic greatness as a result.
* This article is the best sports journalism article, no the best article, I have ever had the pleasure to read. When I grow up, I want to write as powerfully and truthfully as Nick Weldon. I encourage you to read his painful but poignant story summarized above.
