Learning From Coach Vishno

Althea Gibson, the trailblazing African American female athlete, famously said, “No matter what accomplishments you make, somebody helped you.”

I’ve had several of those somebodies who helped me in my life. One of them was Bob Vishno, the iconic coach at Pierson High School from the 1950s to the 1980s. On March 7, Coach died of natural causes at his home in Sag Harbor at the age of 93.

A local reporter asked me upon his passing how long I had known Coach Vishno. For a moment, I was stumped. I couldn’t remember when I didn’t know Coach Vishno.

When I started kindergarten at Pierson in 1958, he was there as both the fifth grade teacher and as a coach. However, our relationship was really forged during my high school years. In four years at Pierson, I played both junior varsity and varsity golf, basketball and baseball. While I was a good baseball player, I was an average basketball player, at best, whose desire far exceeded any talent.

In assessing my talent, I was informed, “Well, you’re short, but you’re also slow.”

Coach Vishno was my only coach in high school. He taught me a lot about the sports we played. He coached Pierson to a state championship in basketball in 1978.

However, the measure of his success was not the wins and losses. It was not what we learned about boxing out in basketball, or hitting the ball straight up the middle in baseball, but it was the lessons that he taught us about life.

Although he was as competitive as any coach, his primary goal was shaping lives. That is what separated him from the “winning is everything” crowd. He taught us sportsmanship — how to win, how to lose, respect for your teammates and your opponents. He taught us that being part of a team was not about the individual but about being part of something larger than ourselves. It’s about how you treat the people.

The most important lessons that I learned about life were not learned in a classroom or by reading a book, as important as those things were, but by competing on a basketball court or a ballfield. Those lessons were taught to me by the example of Coach Vishno.

At many times in my career in difficult or challenging moments, I have relied on those life lessons. What I learned from Coach Vishno from playing sports came in handy many times in the State Assembly, working with colleagues, constituents and those who might not agree with you.

The wisdom of Coach Vishno, like a fine wine, just got better with age. At 17, you may not have realized or appreciated his efforts. Only years later did you suddenly realize the wisdom of the values or lessons he was imparting.

Anyone who played for Coach Vishno or knew him at all has an anecdote or story to tell. I have frequently told the story about my end-of-season meeting with Coach after my freshman year of basketball. I gave him what he considered to be a rather limp handshake. He looked at me with disdain, like I had disrespected him, and said, “Don’t give me a dead fish.”

I’ve never forgotten it.

There was the close baseball game in my senior year, when I danced away from an inside pitch to avoid getting hit. He yelled out, “Let it hit you!” It was the literal definition of “taking one for the team.” You make a sacrifice for the good of the whole.

If you were playing basketball, there was a certain phrase you never wanted to hear: “Get in the game, will you!” — with an emphasis on the last two words. It was a not-so-subtle reminder that you were not carrying your share of responsibility to the team.

Most of all, I will remember the second chance he gave me to join the varsity basketball team in my senior year, just before the season started, when I became distracted by other less-than-wholesome endeavors and did not try out for the team. I cherish the memories that were made during that season, and the chance to get back on track before graduating.

My experience was not unique. You can see the outpouring of love coming from his former players. We all have our own stories and memories, but the common theme from all of us is that Coach Vishno was the epitome of what a teacher should be. He took the time to care, and his reward was changing the lives of countless young athletes for the better.

We are the better for him. He is gone, but the memories remain.

Our prayers are with his family, as we thank them for sharing him with Sag Harbor.