Richard Foye graduated from The Putney School in 1965 and has enjoyed a long career as a creator of Raku pottery.
SOUTH NEWFANE-When I first arrived in Putney in September 1962; all 5’2” of me, prepubescent at age 14, I discovered that I had to play a sport three afternoons a week.
Never having played any sport other than ice hockey on local ponds north of Boston, it seemed that soccer would be similar. I had never heard of the game before, and it was nothing like ice hockey apart from chasing a round object around.
I soon found out that all my teammates were far superior to me in skill, but I could run fast.
Johnny Caldwell was my coach. He quickly saw my panic and took me aside to say, “Don’t compare yourself to the others. They have been playing for a few years, and you are just starting.
“Compare yourself next week to this week, and you will see you have improved more than anyone else. And every week afterwards you will see more improvements.”
This advice has served me well for 63 years. I never forgot it.
* * *
Later that fall, the varsity and second team were to play Deerfield Academy, a powerhouse of athletic prowess. We all got hold of junky old bicycles and piled them into the back of the farm truck with ourselves for the 40-minute drive to the Woolman Hill Quaker Center. There, we hid the truck and rode the bikes the remaining 2 miles to the school in our soccer clothes — we had no uniforms back then.
We got the whole academy staring at us incredulously as we showed up on our motley collection of bikes. Johnny explained to them that this was how we got in shape for ski season. We played their third and fifth teams and got skunked.
We got to feast on steaks and pie in our sweaty soccer “uniforms,” with the Deerfield boys in jackets and ties. After dinner we climbed on our bikes and headed off in the dark for “Putney.” As soon as we were out of earshot, we laughed all the way back to the truck, secure in the knowledge that we would trounce them once we met them again during ski season.
Deerfield never figured out our ruse. Johnny told me a few years ago on Putney Mountain that they were still talking about when we rode down from Putney.
* * *
During my last year at Putney there was a 30-kilometer race hosted by the school. It was for 18-and-older adults, so I could not race at 17. Johnny had me be a forerunner to set track. He advised me to just have fun and take my time.
The loop was repeated three times. As I came through the second time, Johnny skied with me for a minute and suggested I pick up the pace for the last circuit.
I did, and when I finished and the race was over he told me with pride that I had beat the times of more than half the other competitors.
In his subtle manner, he had taught me a lesson in pacing myself, another lesson I have never forgotten.
He was also my math teacher. I stunk at math, but he always passed ski team members.
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