Sports
The Coach's New Practice
Around the UW boathouse, it's a matter of pride that a lot of rowers go on to become doctors. Maren LaLiberty proves the trend can run the other way, too.
Seven years ago, LaLiberty was practicing medicine in Oak Ridge, Tennessee, pursuing a career that had more to do with body chemistry than team chemistry. No one, least of all she, imagined that one day she would trade in her stethoscope for a coach's whistle.
But the undertow of rowing proved too strong, pulling LaLiberty out of the doctor's office and onto the waters of Lake Mendota, where she now coaches Wisconsin's women's crew. "It's not the typical path into coaching," she admits.
LaLiberty says she has been addicted to rowing ever since first competing as an undergraduate at the University of Minnesota. "It's like a drug when you get the boat moving well," she says. "It's almost euphoric." She kept rowing as she studied to become a doctor and dabbled in coaching, leading Minnesota's club-level team during her fourth year in medical school. Even after she established herself as a doctor in Tennessee, she managed to keep oars in the water, making rowing a regular respite from the demands of her medical career.
Seven years ago, LaLiberty was practicing medicine in Oak Ridge, Tennessee, pursuing a career that had more to do with body chemistry than team chemistry. No one, least of all she, imagined that one day she would trade in her stethoscope for a coach's whistle.
But the undertow of rowing proved too strong, pulling LaLiberty out of the doctor's office and onto the waters of Lake Mendota, where she now coaches Wisconsin's women's crew. "It's not the typical path into coaching," she admits.
LaLiberty says she has been addicted to rowing ever since first competing as an undergraduate at the University of Minnesota. "It's like a drug when you get the boat moving well," she says. "It's almost euphoric." She kept rowing as she studied to become a doctor and dabbled in coaching, leading Minnesota's club-level team during her fourth year in medical school. Even after she established herself as a doctor in Tennessee, she managed to keep oars in the water, making rowing a regular respite from the demands of her medical career.
When a new job brought her to Madison in 1996, her first trip - even before she unpacked - was to the athletic department to inquire about openings for volunteer coaches. After three years of balancing her vocation with her avocation, she realized that something had to give. As it turned out, the something was medicine.
"It was increasingly clear that my heart was not in my work as a physician," she says. "I much preferred coming to work here." But such a decision isn't without side effects. She was saddled in debt from medical school, and college rowing coaches aren't known for their opulence. She wrote a letter of resignation from her medical practice, and then carried it around for two weeks before turning it in.
Now, although she laments that her paycheck "has fewer zeroes," she says she couldn't be happier. This year, after leading the lightweight team for three years, she has accepted an expanded role with the program, overseeing both the lightweight and openweight teams. "I'm thrilled to death to have this opportunity," she says. "I feel at home here."
"It was increasingly clear that my heart was not in my work as a physician," she says. "I much preferred coming to work here." But such a decision isn't without side effects. She was saddled in debt from medical school, and college rowing coaches aren't known for their opulence. She wrote a letter of resignation from her medical practice, and then carried it around for two weeks before turning it in.
Now, although she laments that her paycheck "has fewer zeroes," she says she couldn't be happier. This year, after leading the lightweight team for three years, she has accepted an expanded role with the program, overseeing both the lightweight and openweight teams. "I'm thrilled to death to have this opportunity," she says. "I feel at home here."
LaLiberty led the lightweights to national prominence, coming within seconds of winning national championship races each of the past two seasons. Adding the openweight team brings under her direction a veritable flotilla of about 170 rowers between the two crews. The teams will practice and train together, but compete in separate races, which will challenge LaLiberty and her staff to keep up. She has hired four assistants and will enlist another three volunteer coaches to help ensure rowers get individual attention and direction. That's important, she says, since the coaches will be imparting more than just rowing lessons.
"Any university has a mission to teach young adults how to plan and execute long-term goals. And I feel that this sport really augments that goal," she says. "The point isn't just that they're learning to row, but that they're learning skills that will help them in the rest of their adult lives."
LaLiberty says that her greatest reward will be if some of her team members eventually achieve success as doctors. Or coaches. Or, in a few extraordinary cases, maybe both.
—Michael Penn
"Any university has a mission to teach young adults how to plan and execute long-term goals. And I feel that this sport really augments that goal," she says. "The point isn't just that they're learning to row, but that they're learning skills that will help them in the rest of their adult lives."
LaLiberty says that her greatest reward will be if some of her team members eventually achieve success as doctors. Or coaches. Or, in a few extraordinary cases, maybe both.
—Michael Penn
Team Players: Johnson & Johnson
Five things to know about Al and Ben Johnson, who anchor the football team's offensive line:
They're cousins, who grew up together in Brussels, Wisconsin, played for the same high school, and enrolled together at UW-Madison in 1998. They're both seniors, and both are majoring in sociology.
As offensive linemen, their job is to get in the way of defenders who want to tackle runners and passers. They do it well, too. Both were named to pre-season All-America teams this year.
They're cousins, who grew up together in Brussels, Wisconsin, played for the same high school, and enrolled together at UW-Madison in 1998. They're both seniors, and both are majoring in sociology.
As offensive linemen, their job is to get in the way of defenders who want to tackle runners and passers. They do it well, too. Both were named to pre-season All-America teams this year.
They stand a combined thirteen feet tall and weigh approximately 627 pounds. Together, they could bench press an adult grizzly bear.
At least once a semester, they head to a local steak house and order the "beefeater special," which includes a forty-ounce steak with salad, toast, and a baked potato. They haven't needed a doggie bag yet.
Al is outgoing and social, while Ben is more reserved. Some of Ben's teammates call him "Gentle Ben" - although "he's definitely not gentle on the field," Al says.
At least once a semester, they head to a local steak house and order the "beefeater special," which includes a forty-ounce steak with salad, toast, and a baked potato. They haven't needed a doggie bag yet.
Al is outgoing and social, while Ben is more reserved. Some of Ben's teammates call him "Gentle Ben" - although "he's definitely not gentle on the field," Al says.
