Jim coached track over five decades, but he did his greatest work at North from 1989 to 2018. He was so dedicated to his craft that he coached all three seasons: cross-country, indoor, and outdoor track. He passed away more than two years ago, but his friends, runners, and colleagues remember him with a mixture of awe and respect. Jim Blackburn was special.

I won’t recite Jim’s numerous achievements, from Bay State Conference to Eastern Mass to state titles. Jim did some of his best work in seasons when other teams had superior talent. His goal: to shape his runners into a team and to get the most from each kid. Over four years my son, Noah, ran track for Jim every season but one. Whenever possible, I’d attend the meets at Reggie Lewis or at Cold Spring Park, with lots of opportunities to watch Jim inspire his troops.

Bear in mind that Jim spent about as much time with Noah as did his teachers. Teams practice five days a week and sometimes on weekends as well. Now Noah was a diffident soul, reserved and slow to make friends when he arrived at North. Track, it turns out, was a godsend, with a built-in community that valued each of its members. Noah was a gifted runner who doubted his own talent. But Jim sensed the potential and took my son under his wing. During those long rides to distant meets, Jim often drew out Noah’s opinions on a range of topics. He also assured him that success was around the corner if Noah continued to work hard. Sure enough, by junior year Noah was a core member of the team and a Globe and Herald All-Scholastic. After graduation, the two kept in touch; Jim remained a mentor until he passed. 

Jim knew of my work as longtime girls tennis coach at South, and we developed a friendship over the years. Our political differences, to be sure, were profound, but that didn’t bother me very much. Several years ago, when I still was a columnist at the Newton Tab, I wrote a piece defending undocumented workers and lauding their contribution to the economy. The following week the Tab published a letter from Jim taking issue with my premise. He argued that immigrants ought to enter the country legally and that those who entered illegally had broken the law and “cut ahead in line.”

A few months later I was biking through Newton Highlands when I pulled over to say hello to  Jim. (Throughout his life he jogged or walked all over Newton, and I also ran into him when swimming at Crystal Lake. The man was fit as a fiddle and indefatigable!) Looking a bit embarrassed, Jim asked if I was upset with his letter. “Of course not!” I exclaimed. “I don’t deny anyone, least of all a friend, the right to disagree with my opinions.” Relieved, he nodded and broke into a grin. We shook hands and went our ways. That was my last encounter with Jim before his passing. Thank you, Jim Blackburn, and may your memory be blessed.