Impossible Mission Written June 20, 2022 1966 In the first semester of my unathletic sophomore year at Oberlin College, on October 2, 1966, I wrote to my parents:  “One of the requirements of the phys-ed program is that you have to take swimming sometime, so that's what I'm taking this first eight weeks (Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, 1:30 to 2:30).  It didn't take me long at all to learn to float face down, eyes open.  But I still haven't learned how to make any significant progress in the water; I just lie there, floating.  Stroking, kicking, and breathing come next, I guess.  Anyhow, I don't seem to be having as much trouble with it as I'd feared.” Because I had to leave my glasses in the shower room, I never got a good look at the interior of the 35-year-old Crane Pool building, the scene of my introduction to natation.  But I understood that the 25-yard pool was the venue for intercollegiate competition.  On a Saturday afternoon 15 weeks later, a men's swimming and diving meet took place against the Big Red of Denison University. 1967 I wasn't there, but I quote in crimson letters the words of Paul CR Lawn from the January 17, 1967 edition of the bi-weekly Oberlin Review. The capacity crowd at Crane Pool, which had filled the bleachers and jammed the balcony, was roaring as never before. They had seen magnificent individual duels, they had watched pool records being set, they had witnessed coach Ralph Bibler outsmart the Big Red, and now their eyes were craned to the tremendous battle taking place below as they screamed for victory. They were watching the climax of the magnificent — freshman Rick Lehmann battling against Greg Baker in the third lap of the final freestyle relay that would determine the meet.  And as Lehmann sprinted away, the crowd knew that they were witnessing the improbable, that the Crimson were going to win! A minute later, the Crimson had beaten Denison, 54-50, had stretched their unbeaten dual meet string to four, and had treated their followers to the most exciting show in years, leaving the fans limp with ecstasy.  They did it with a remarkable team effort, but mostly because of two men named Lehmann and Jarvis.  Freshman Lehmann and sophomore Jarvis simply refused to lose.  All Jarvis did was swim 1700 yards in three races and win all three. The upset had taken place on Saturday afternoon, January 14, and folks were talking about it throughout the following week, all the way to my Friday-night sports-themed half-hour on the campus radio station.  I had planned to feature the hockey team, but at the urging of my colleagues CR Lawn and Bob Weiner, I postponed that. Instead, Bob interviewed Mike Jarvis (far left), Rick Lehmann, and coach Ralph Bibler at the WOBC studios.   About a month later, another member of the team, freestyler Ron Grimes '68, used the pseudonym of Omar D. Prophet to compose a poem. He imagined himself all alone in the pool, practicing “repeats” to prepare for the next day's meet at Gambier, Ohio, against the Kenyon College Lords.  Suddenly a cowardly figure slinks in, wearing the purple of Kenyon.  That team has long dominated the conference in swimming (then as well as now).  However, the visitor sadly predicts that his school's many stars will be unable to defeat Oberlin on the morrow.      Once upon a midday dreary,      While I floundered, weak and weary, Over many a quaint and furious repeat that had made me sore,      While I plodded, water slapping,      Suddenly there came a rapping As if someone were beseeching, seeking entrance at the door.      “’Tis some idiot,” I muttered, “screeching at the pool room door.      Merely this and nothing more.”      Ah, distinctly I remember,      It was not a fellow member, Not a fearless Obie swimmer, not a Yeoman natator.      Wants to see the meet tomorrow?      Wishes maybe just to borrow Some chlorine?  A crazy fellow, or a rabid spectator. Stupid student, at this hour, banging at the pool room door!      Only this and nothing more.      Climbed I then out by the gutter      As, with nary a move or flutter But with mien that made me shudder, stood a shadow at the door, Stood a starkly staring silhouette upon the pool room floor,      Then with trembling,      And resembling Now a spectre at the door, Waited silent as I asked him, in a voice that tension bore,      “What the hell you in here for?”
		Not the least reply he tendered,      But, with mien of foe surrendered, Croaked in tones pathetic as he slid across the floor,      Slid across the mottled marbled      Surface of the office floor. Then, with visage now illumined by the light that shone from fore, Saw I clearly that a Kenyon suit this hapless figure wore,      Merely this and nothing more.      Then this wierdo type, beguiling      My misgivings into smiling By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance he wore,      “Though thy pate be shorn and shaven,      Thou,” I said, “will here find haven — Ghastly pale and trembling creature come to Crane Pool's office door. Tell me if the winning ways of Lords are as they were before!”      Quoth the Craven, “Nevermore.”      Startled at the stillness broken      By reply so aptly spoken, “Doubtless,” said I, “what he utters is his only stock and store.      'Tis a hapless soul whose splits were never      Up to par with Witner Till he cracked because of pressure, being only number four. Say, O trembler:  will the Lords against the Yeomen highly score?”      Quoth the Craven, “Nevermore.”
		From his meekness of demeanor      Could I see now all the keener That this fellow a resemblance strong to Kenyon's mentor bore.      “Is it Kalmbach?  Is it Koller,”      Said I, scratching at a molar, Who you think will win the Breaststroke and thus supplement your score? Do you think that Neff will touch out Iron Mike, as once before?”      Quoth the Craven, “Nevermore.”      Then methought the air grew tenser,      And my thoughts I tried to censor Just to soothe this chap's distemper, and the matter full explore.      “Tell me, if you stack the Medley      Do you see a duel right deadly, As a head-on clash the rivalry would pull into the fore. Will the team of Witner, Koller, Neff, and Howard make a score?”      Quoth the Craven, “Nevermore.”
		“With the choice of Cowen, Howard,      Will the anchor man be Coward, Or you think that in the Thousand then you'll come into the fore?      Is there hope for Kenyon sprinters,      Training hard these many winters? Tell me truly; it's important.  I beseech you, I implore!” But the question merely seemed to have just cut him to the core,      For he answered, “Nevermore.”      “Will then Hutchinson or Walther       Be the ones who will not falter? Will these two the Lords' high honor try themselves to then restore?      Hale and hearty others,      Will they backstroke well as brothers With a one and two, and many points, a highly-needed score. Will the Breastroke mark a Kalmbach, bring you hope and fame galore?”      Quoth the Craven, “Nevermore.”
		“Prophet!” said I, “friend of Omar!      “Prophet still, in answers so far! Whether Fate alone or whether Berg has helped to send you to our door,      There will be no joy in Gambier!  Mighty Witner will strike out — He has spoken, Kenyon's leader, as he never spoke before —      And the Yeomen soon in triumph will come marching through this door!”      Quoth the Craven, “Aaaaaarrrgh!”   Alas, it was not to be.  On Saturday, February 18, Kenyon's depth allowed the Lords to sink Oberlin by the score of 60-44.  Grimes managed to finish third in the 500 Free. Much later, in 2022, Kenyon did in fact change its mascot to a nervous bird with a limited vocabulary as the team became the Kenyon Owls.  (This is not the official logo.)   1968 The next year, as co-captain, Grimes led the team in dual-meet scoring with 72 points.  More importantly, he and his teammates were again unbeaten at 8-0 when they met Kenyon, this time at home.  In the Review on my 21st birthday, February 20, 1968, CR described the unlikely result. The crowd, which was to be the largest ever to see a swimming meet at Crane Pool, began to file in at 1:00, taking first the best upstairs bleacher seats, then tenanting the downstairs bleachers, then filling the upstairs standing room, and finally lining poolside, until they numbered nearly 400 and there was no room for any more. As the Crimson emerged from the locker room, the fans set up a deafening roar of Yeomen, Yeomen!  The Lords had never heard anything like it, and it unnerved them. Before the meet, the Lords thought the Crimson's choice of warm-up music — the theme from Mission Impossible — was particularly ludicrous. No one thought to ask them their opinion after the meet. Coach Ralph Bibler and team members were too busy enjoying the aftermath of their most stunning upset of all — the improbable, nay impossible, 53-51 victory over Kenyon's Lords which earned them an undefeated season, the first undefeated, untied Oberlin team in any sport since 1961. The Kenyon meet has already become a legend, and so will the team that made it so.   POSTSCRIPTS: Sadly, Ron Grimes passed away in 1995.  Former teammate Paul Safyan '68 wrote, “When I heard Ron died, I had a hard time believing it.  He was the hardest working swimmer on our Oberlin team.  His endurance and readiness to give his all seemed limitless.  I didn't think he'd ever ‘run down.’  We all do.”   In 2019, the 1969 tri-captains (Walt Galloway, Cary Seidman, and All-American “Iron Mike” Jarvis) returned to campus for their 50th reunion. Walt had provided a booklet from which the poem and some of the photos come.  He recalled, “Beating Kenyon in a dual swimming and diving meet in 1968 was definitely a highlight of my swimming career.  (As I understand it, the only other time that happened against a full-strength Kenyon team was when my Dad, '43, swam for Oberlin!)”