The Most Likely Return of Boston Billy


April 6, 2009

"It's not any worse or better now," says McGillivray. "It's just different. I was part of one of the most amazing, incredible, inspiring experiences I've ever had in road racing when Joanie [Benoit Samuelson] ran the [2008 Olympic] Trials here in Boston. She was three-quarters of the way back, but to hear the crowd, it was like the Pope was coming through. It reminded me of a World Series victory parade: Runners were running by, and you'd hear footsteps, then quiet, footsteps, then quiet. Then this continuous roar starts building and here comes Joanie. And that's the way it is with Billy in Boston."

Rodgers is a Red Sox fan who was sorry to see Manny Ramirez get traded last summer. "He just looks like he's having fun," he says of the Sox former left fielder. "He's rich, he's damn good at what he does, and he's a free spirit of a guy."

Remove the rich part, and that's a fair description of Rodgers, who loves the potent cocktail of Patriots' Day: one part Boston Red Sox, three parts Boston Marathon.

"My Bartender Friend Tommy Leonard always says it's Christmas, Thanksgiving, Halloween, and St. Patrick's Day rolled into one," says Rodgers. "It's fun, it's pure fun."

We are interrupted, in the Old Curiosity Shop that is the back office of the Bill Rodgers Running Center, by Charlie, who pops his head in and asks Bill to hand him a Steve Prefontaine poster from the box behind him. The box is full of posters, all of Prefontaine, and I think: Pre is the subject of two feature films and Rodgers is the subject of none? Bill grabs a poster and passes it to his brother as if it were a baton.

"I just love this sport," he continues. "Yesterday, outside Pittsburgh, I'm at a race with 700 people, and we all go over to the race director's house afterward and have ice cream and cake in his front yard. What could be better than that? Then six or eight of us went into the guy's house. His name is Mark Courtney. And he's got a little finished basement with the Boston Marathon finish-line logo. He's a family guy with a 4-year-old daughter, and he has a business and works a lot of hours. But somehow or other he still runs at a high level. There was a wide range of us down there: One guy was more of a track athlete, one guy was a lot older. And we had our beer. And look at this." Rodgers pulls the wrinkles out of the T-shirt he's wearing and reads the front for me: "It was called Courtney's Ice Cream Race."

He gets a faraway look, a 26.2-mile stare. "Seven hundred people in Grove City, Pennsylvania, on a Wednesday night to run a 5-K. A 79-year-old lady who came close to an American record. An 80-year-old former minister who has run 2,500 races. And 200 high school kids." Rodgers is beaming. "It was fantastic. Then we all go to Mark's house and eat cake and ice cream. It's the ultimate community event. That's what running is. We're really like baseball. We're ultimately grassroots. We really are. And we were 100 years ago, at the turn of the century. You look at our sport all the way back, there were all these county fairs, and they all had foot races. So running goes back to our ancient roots as people--the cavemen were running-- but it also goes back to our American historical roots."