Remembering Reese: The Recruiting Visit

Note: This is another in a series of posts in remembrance of Marist Running Alum Greg Salamone (Class of 2001), who passed away in October 2014 at the age of 35 after battling melanoma for eight months.   
As our 2015 team continues to be ravaged by the flu, stomach bugs, colds, sinus infections and all other manner of virus maladies, I harken back to 18 years ago this month, when Greg Salamone came for his Official Visit to Marist College. The supposed purpose of an Official Visit is to roll out the proverbial “red carpet” for recruits. Put on a good show. Make a splashy presentation. I didn’t know Greg at all, other than brief telephone conversations in the recruitment process. But, as I would learn through the years, the dude had no interest in being wooed on an Official Visit, or in any other way for that matter.

This, it turns out, was a good thing. When he came down from upstate Liverpool for said Official Visit in February 1997, my body was being wracked by a hideous flu. I was on my couch at home, trying all sorts of herbal remedies with little effectiveness, and coaching by telephone while trying to get better and get back to practice. It turns out on that Official Visit, Greg got his nickname of “Reese’s Pieces Boy” which eventually became “Reese’s” and then eventually became “Reese.” Why the clever moniker? Well, on his Official Visit, Greg was a bit quiet and shy (not atypical of such things) so he was simply identified by his T-shirt, which was a Reese’s Pieces T-shirt.

I don’t recall who his Student Host was on that long ago visit. I do recall dragging my sorry ass into the McCann Center to have the Big Meeting with my recruit. He sat there. I sat there. I felt like crap. I held my head in my hands. I apologized for feeling like crap. I half-heartedly asked if he had any questions of me. He did not. I mumbled something about his solid high school times and having a “bright future” with us. But really, my mind was on driving home and curling back up on the couch in the den for another nap. The meeting lasted, maybe, 10 minutes. There was no fancy show, no flashy presentation. There was no Red Carpet. Just a sick coach and a shy, skinny kid.

Well, you know most of the rest of the story. That shy, skinny kid chose Marist. He came down here and promptly became one of the greatest distance runners in our history. And, by the way, he LOVED telling the story of his recruiting visit. In his best sarcasm, he would say, “Oh yeah, Pete was REAL impressive and convincing on that recruiting visit.” Ha! Sometimes, the stars align properly. Had I given my best sales pitch – trust me, it’s not at the top of my skill set – young Reese may have been turned off. Instead, he got a weary heap of an ill young coach, barely able to hold his head up for a 5-minute conversation. And that apparently was all it took to convince our guy to spend the next four years in Poughkeepsie.

It might be the only time I have fond memories of being sick as a dog.