At your urging, I’ve decided to break my “silence” on that especially bothersome post a week ago. Ya know, about Louise Tricard’s last will and testament. My usual practice is to post a story and let it stand on its own merits, take the heat and move on. I figure that if I word a blog entry right, its reason for existence will be self-apparent. I fell short this time. (The realization hit me when a masters delegate here in Reno said I owed y’all an explanation because the post might be seen as critical of Louise.) Heavens no! Not my intent at all! My original post left a big clue why I was disclosing details of my friend’s will. I wrote: “So how would her estate be distributed? Would she leave anything to USATF, or any track clubs or charities?”

Anyone who knew Louise would assume she would have left something to USATF or masters track. That she didn’t was very interesting to me and, by extension, readers of this blog. (What interests me interests you is my mantra.)
So at the risk and expectation of being torn a new one (again), here’s the background:
Louise really was a friend of mine. We corresponded frequently for more than 10 years. Via email mostly. She also was a legend on the original AOL track and field message boards (now defunct), where she sparred online with “SpeedKLS,” the pseudonym of Olympic sprinter Ato Boldon. She also was a hell-raiser and wise presence on the T-and-F mailing list and the Track & Field News message board that replaced it in popularity.
I met her at least four times — at masters nationals (see her at Hawaii nationals) or USATF annual meetings, where she knew EVERYBODY. I gave her support and publicity for her campaign to end the no-false-start rule in masters track. We had code names for each other, reflecting the subversive elements of our personnas. She called me “wcc.” I called her “ecc.”
That’s West Coast commie and East Coast commie. We were muckraking soul mates.
As a historian — the author of two definitive works on American women’s track and field from the 1895 to 2000 — Louise was an intensely curious person who probed deeply for inner motivations. Read any of the dozens of athlete interviews in her books. They are among the most revelatory in our sport. Warts and doubts are revealed in these interviews, which take the form of stream-of-consciousness narratives instead of the usual Q&A format. (She asked dozens of questions of each athlete and stitched their responses together.)
In 2004, she couldn’t attend the Olympic Trials in Sacramento. It was painful to miss, since the U.S. Postal Service was unveiling a first-day issue in honor of Wilma Rudolph, the Olympic sprint legend. More to the point, Louise would have loved to have reconnected with a handful of Wilma’s Tennessee State teammates who attended the ceremony unveiling the Rudolph stamp.
Knowing this, I bought a souvenir flat of Wilma stamps and mailed it to Louise. She appreciated the surprise gift.
When she grew ill with a recurrence of cancer, I renewed our email contacts. She always replied. Weakened by chemo or radiation, her notes were short but replete with humor. (See such comments on this post.) She showed tremendous courage.
When I became one of the first in the track world to learn of her passing, I posted the first notice of her death on the T&FN Message Board — where many of her friends learned the sad news for the first time.
People on the board asked for more about Louise. So I accommodated with perhaps the most definitive obituary online. I later posted details of her then-upcoming funeral service.
A few weeks later, I wondered: With such a life devoted to track and field, and with no husband or children surviving her, where did her estate go? Did she leave a bundle to the USATF Foundation, the Florida Track Club or any of a gazillion schools or charities she was associated with?
So I did what curious reporters do. I found out (from a masters track lawyer friend who specializes in estate taxes and probate) where to get Louise’s will. I went online to the Brevard County clerk’s site in Florida and ordered a copy of her will. (It came in the mail a couple weeks later. Cost me $7.)
Wills are a public record for a reason. They ensure that survivors — and anybody else with an interest in the person — know what is left to them. They ensure that the decedent’s wishes are carried out. Wills of celebrities also have value to historians and the public. Their disclosure is rare but unexceptional.
In Louise’s case, I thought it was intriguing (and, yes, blogworthy) that her dearest friends — and not USATF, clubs or charities — were the beneficiaries. Her will was a love letter to track associates, fellow athletes and a coach or two (along with her sister and nephew). She had every right to reward the key people in her life.
And so the post wasn’t meant to be critical of her bypassing USATF. It was meant to celebrate her love of the most important people in her life. She signed the will in August 2008, so it was a recent reflection of her big heart. Louise was being Louise — independent and true.
As I read your heartfelt comments on the controversial post, I sighed to myself and thought: “Well, if I try to defend it now, it will sound like after-the-fact rationalization. And it will provoke even more outrage.” So I decided to move on.
Even when my post was called ghoulish and “horridly tacky” on Louise’s favorite message board, I decided to let it ride.
In a way, your comments — however harsh and critical of me — are a genuine expression of how valuable you judge this corner of the Web. You assume that if I post something, hundreds or thousands of people will see it. And you’re upset that your gathering spot is sullied. I understand. (If only five people read this blog, you’d just write me off as a harmless crank.) But for better or worse, this is where you get your masters news and views — raw and unvarnished. And not genuflecting to USATF or WMA.
So thanks for caring enough about this blog to express your outrage. That’s not being sarcastic. I really appreciate your comments — all 5,498 to date. (They’re often more interesting and newsworthy than the parent posts.)
But I digress.
My advice to young reporters is: Never explain, never apologize. That means: If your story’s reason for being isn’t self-explanatory, it doesn’t deserve to be printed.
So I guess I just violated my own policy. Oh well.
But I won’t apologize for using my personal blog to explore the life (and will) of a good friend. I won’t apologize for sharing information that gives genuine insights into the heart of a woman who loved track and who was loved by thousands.
I’m just sorry my motivations weren’t clear or understood. I was way wrong.
Like me, Louise was curious about the world of track. Like me, Louise went beyond the surface to reveal the truth of track personalities. Like me, she took delight in tweaking established cultural mores.
No one can truly know anyone’s heart, but I think Louise would have understood and forgiven my post.