Athletes thrive despite heat, founder’s absence

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ORONO – Voices. Hundreds of them. Announcers calling for runners to get ready to run. Reminding everyone within hearing distance to drink plenty of water on this hot, hot day. Coaches directing athletes to their starting positions and trying to get the next group ready behind them. Athletes shouting out greetings to friends, families and in many cases strangers.

But the one voice missing Friday at the University of Maine’s Beckett Family Track was the most familiar of all to those at the Maine Special Olympics.

Mickey Boutilier, the father of the Maine Special Olympics, was missing for the first time since starting the games in 1969.

“Mickey has colon cancer,” said Lisa Bird, the director of public relations for the Maine Special Olympics. “He’s undergoing some chemo and radiation in a rehabilitation center.”

Bird says the 72-year-old patriarch of the games is undergoing the treatment in preparation for surgery.

“He’ll have an operation and that should be the last step and then we’ll have him back.”

But the games go on. And voices carry. A team of about 15 athletes wearing Madison Bull Dogs T-shirts is raising a ruckus as they prepare. One team member is addressing the team and from 30 yards away you can hear him.

“OK. They’ll be no biting. No scratching. No pinching. No gouging,” he shouts.

Then, he turns and points at a female teammate.

“And you. They’ll be none of this,” he says striking a pose by thrusting a hip to one side and putting a hand behind his head. He is the obvious choice for the gold medal in vamping at the Special Olympics.

Meanwhile, Dwayne Hall of Brewer is preparing his OHI team for the 400-meter relay. OHI is a Hermon-based agency that provides assistance to people with disabilities.

Jeremy Crouse, a 19-year-old who lives in Hermon, will run the second leg of the race. He is kidding Hall about dropping the baton on the handoff.

“Remember, if it happens, it’s not my fault,” he laughs.

The joke becomes reality moments later as the baton hits the track. Crouse quickly picks it up and takes off dead last.

But OHI had a secret weapon. His name is Steve Fieger. He is 23-years-old and he lives in Milford. Fieger is the anchor on the team and he is fast. He passes runner after runner in the last 100 yards but the leader is too far ahead. Still, OHI manages a second-place finish when all looked lost.

After receiving congratulations from Hall, Fieger explains how he was able to make up so much ground.

“I’m used to running this. I ran for Milford. My school,” he says.

For Crouse, the games give him a chance to run, which he says he likes. But even more so it gives him a chance to see old friends and to have a good time.

“I’m having a blast,” he said. “Being outside in the air. I love it. We got a little nervous there on the exchange but I think we finished good.”

Then there is the running man. His name is Alexander Golubow. He is from Richmond and the mile is his specialty.

During his time trial, he lurks in third place for two laps and then on the third lap he takes the lead with approximately 200 yards to go and sprints to the finish line. His time is a personal best of six minutes, 28 seconds.

Despite the heat and the length of the race, Golubow still has plenty of energy left and he sprints some 60 yards down Morse Field to a woman waiting at the field house end of the field. Golubow takes two cups of water from her and promptly dumps them on his head.

“I did better than I thought I would,” he says. “I just stored my energy until the end.”

And then he explains his feelings about his run.

“Well, how do you think it feels. It feels great.”

Sitting under an awning outside an RV is Jay Weinberg. Weinberg is a veteran volunteer at the games. He is also one of the more popular people on this steamy day.

Weinberg is the keeper of a cooler full of bottles of ice cold water. The fact is advertised by a number of cases of the stuff stacked around a table covering the cooler.

The Navy retiree is one of the volunteers who make the games go. Normally more actively involved as a race starter, Weinberg has a knee injury that keeps him close to his RV.

A steady stream of people stop by to visit with Weinberg. Volunteers, coaches and athletes say hello, or ask for a bottle of water. There is also a little girl, an athlete, who refuses to leave without a hug. Weinberg obliges. Then another athlete asks Weinberg about Boutilier.

“Where’s Mickey?”

“He’s sick right now,” Weinberg responds and as the athlete walks away, “You know, it’s really different. [Boutilier] is always around to greet everybody. He has a way to bring you up out of the dumps. We miss him.”