Dragon Slayer

There is an essential truth at the heart of this story: Vincent Bingham loved everything about the sport of track and field. Vince passed away last week. A 1981 graduate of Crystal City High School, he was known for his upbeat, gregarious nature, love for kids and passion for coaching.

Vince and my late brother Bill were classmates who shared many of the same interests, so I have known him for a long time. I remember when Vincent ran high school track. He was not as good as he liked to remember. But who of us are? His forte would be as a teacher of the sport.

Vince Bingham was a coach. Plain and simple. It was his life. I know of Vince’s resume - high on accomplishment but low on monetary reward. I doubt he ever had much money. Vincent never married, never had any children. He liked to share stories of when it was necessary to advance his early coaching career, he lived in his car. By most of society’s markers he was not wealthy, but if impact were a bankable commodity, Vincent would have resided in a penthouse. He left his mark.

Vincent was a man who brought a lot of smiles. He was always stoked to be out there coaching his kids, being around his coaches and team -he glowed through the culture of the sport. Kids were drawn to him. He was always there for them- he kept Quick Trip hours. He knew all their parents. The kids had his cell number. Vincent loved what he was doing. He was a content man, and he knew it.

In Vince’s worldview, beer had its place. He considered it a restorative drink, the reward due a man after an honest day’s work. He was in his element at coaching clinics. He was in demand as a presenter, then, a fine companion come social hour. Three generations of track coaches throughout the Midwest have Vincent Bingham stories. Once a young coach asked me, in Vince’s presence, how long I had known him. Vince answered for me, “since I was skinny.”

Known for his unyielding expectation of excellence, when it came to results, Vince was old school. He needed what all competitors need: more. In the sport of track and field, there is nowhere to hide, no one to blame. The stopwatch does not lie; the tape measure shows no favorite. I think that was the real draw for Vince. He coached winning. “If you ran a world record and finished second, you not only didn't win, but you also didn’t really set a world record,” I heard him once say at a coaches’ clinic.

Vince always opened his programs to the frustrated and the disenfranchised, offering second chances. He loved the underdog, he saw himself as one, always fighting against those he found in administrative roles who did not share his passion - for his sport or for his kids.

He was a motivator. Something about Vince made a prospect walk away wanting to work more, laugh more, run more, give more. He was admired not so much on the front porch of the sport, but in the backyard, where coaches and former players appreciated the wide shadow, he cast. It is why we should never regret the raising of dragon slayers in a time where there are actual dragons amongst us. Vince was a dragon slayer.

Vincent coached everywhere. He never stayed in one location long. It would take less space to list the area schools he did not coach at compared to those he did. His 2006 Missouri Baptist University women’s team produced a national team championship with 18 of his athletes earning All-American honors. That squad is widely recognized as the best track team ever assembled in the state of Missouri. Over his long career he coached five Olympians. His recruiting efforts led to the Kansas University Jayhawks men’s team winning the 2013 NCAA team championship. In 2009, when he arrived on the Lawrence campus, the program was not even nationally ranked.

In January 2024 I took the track coaching job at St. Charles, MO Community College - their sixth coach in six years. No track. No budget. No roster. No uniforms. No schedule. And as I found in due time, no administrative support. Since the semester had already begun, it was too late for any transfers, so I used social media to recruit students currently enrolled. Somehow that May our Men’s team would finish 8th in the nation.

One prospect showed up and said he had only run track his senior year of high school and he enjoyed it. “Can I come out,” he asked. “Are you breathing,” I responded. When I googled him, I found, true, he had only run track one year at Liberty High School in Wentzville, MO, and he was also the large school state 300-meter hurdle champion.

I told my newfound star that my hurdle expertise was about the level of junior high. I texted Vince. He wanted video of three flights of hurdles, no more or no less. I asked what I could do to aid the cause. Nothing Vince said, “you try and coach him, you will just get him hurt. Just send me the video and do exactly what I tell you to have him do.”

That was in mid-January. At the end of May in Utica, NY my guy was crowned Junior College 110-meter-high hurdle national champion. Second was a full flight behind. I cheered him all the way to a gold medal. I didn’t coach him. Vince did that. I would strongly suspect many other coaches have similar stories of Vince’s behind the scenes help.

Vincent’s health deteriorated over the last decade. Diabetes cost him first his mobility, then his independence, but never his spirit. But when the disease began to compromise his eyesight, that one he shared was tough. Also suffering from congestive heart failure, in 2023 Vince was placed in a nursing home. Plans and paperwork were drawn up to secure him in the comfort of hospice care. You cannot bring down a sledgehammer faster than that. The end was near.

The track world came to his bedside to say their goodbyes. But Vince said he was not yet ready to hang up his whistle, rallied on the back stretch of his life’s journey and a month later, walked out of the nursing home.

Now, the St. Louis area track and field community circled around him. There were numerous fund raisers and prayers. Coaching brought Vince great joy in life. And after his dire final diagnosis two years prior, it also brought him a great deal of strength to keep fighting - to keep coaching. It was an extended escape back into his natural element. Vince attended this past summer’s national AAU meet. He coached to the very end.

I have many cordial and professional acquaintances, but few close friends. I considered Vincent an acquaintance. So, when Vince shared with me 18 months ago his excitement over his return to his Christian roots, I was surprised but pleased to sense the contentment in his voice. He said he had spent too many years not living up to what he now knew was the right path and he intended to use the time he had left to follow that path.

For those of us raised in this small river town on the banks of the broad and murky Mississippi River, legacy means all. The beauty of Crystal City is that time has passed us by. We no longer have the look nor feel of a post-war mill town, which is exactly what we were – a place where for multi generations immigrants worked long hours at backbreaking and lung-choking jobs both above and below the earth. Those days are gone and are not coming back. But today, the legacy still pumps strong. Call it "the American way"—the competition of both the next man up and the last man standing. Vincent thrived on accountability and factory towns are all about accountability. Vincent Bingham was a fitting representative of a hometown he always made proud.

If you untangle and then eliminate the baggage, the race of Life is very simple. We have no say as to when and where we enter the race and we have minimal choice as to when we exit. What we do control is how we run, and Coach Vince Bingham ran hard, and he ran well.

How much, now that the end has arrived, was changed by Vince? In the St. Louis area track and field world, they will be tallying that one up for a while.