Celebrating his 79th birthday next month, J-P (Jean-Pierre) Mayer has become something of a “throws whisperer” in Sudbury high-school track and field circles, a role he has embraced to some degree or another for the better part of the past quarter century or so.

Combining the wisdom of common sense axioms sprinkled with both humour and the type of imagery that allows for athlete retention with a core understanding of the mechanics of the human body and the countless multi-kinetic undertakings in the name of track & field excellence, Mayer has become a valuable resource to local athletes and coaches alike.

Arguably what most separates the native of northern Quebec (La Sarre) who moved to Chelmsford with parents and seven siblings at the age of ten from the crowd is his delivery, the very manner in which he conveys truisms in a fashion that both engages his young disciples while also fostering growth and improvement.

Much of this approach is very simply the result of J-P Mayer the coach being true to J-P Mayer the person. Some, however, was undoubtedly influenced by those who helped carve a similar path for him back in a very, very different era of athletics in Canada.

“Errol Gibson (Sudbury Sports Hall of Famer; original head coach of Sudbury Track Club – circa 1960) used to say: some days you come back dripping with glory, other days you come back dripping with experience,” said Mayer. “That stayed with me.”

“I gradually realized dripping with experience is much more beneficial to an athlete than dripping with glory.”

Over the course of a track and field career, as an athlete, that has now spanned portions of seven different decades, Mayer has witnessed his fair share of both experiences and glory. It all started, however, rather innocuously, befriending Richard Simard in his youth in Rayside-Balfour, the tandem frolicking about and creating an impromptu foundation of track and field training.

“Rick and I were always in the bush, finding some stones to throw, finding some trees for makeshift pole vaults,” said Mayer. “We built ourselves a high jump in the backyard.”

In those days, however, landing mats had not yet come to be. A standard scissor-kick was used to clear the bar in the high jump, the world coming to accept an alternative thanks to the gold medal achievement of Dick Fosbury at the 1968 Summer Olympics in Mexico City.

Between the natural curiosity which gave way to an endless array of track and field initiatives – Mayer actually picked up the discus for the first time as a grade nine student at Sacred Heart College, one day after nearly being struck by the sphere heaved his way, inadvertently, by the school record holder in the discipline – and a natural athletic proficiency for the young man who studied gymnastics early on, who went on to represent Laurentian University in track and was comfortable enough in his cross-event prowess to tackle the decathlon as a masters competitor.

Upon graduation, with marriage in the offing and a five year stretch of night-shift work awaiting at Canada Post, Mayer stepped away from track, returning roughly a year after the birth of son, Zachary. When what should have been a very manageable leap over a child’s roller proved problematic, Mayer ventured back to the Laurentian track, family in tow.

While the likes of Terry McKinty (Northland Athletic Club) and Dick Moss (Track North) were welcoming all comers, Shirley Pommier was taking a particular interest in the rapidly expanding purview of masters track and field. Mayer has gone on to great heights in that sphere, ascending to the podium at world championships and establishing national age group records.

These days, however, his legacy is being strengthened through his work with young athletes. His is a vastly different teaching philosophy from what he likely absorbed as a pupil of Mechanics of Athletics, a track and field technical tome penned by Geoffrey Dysen.

“I try not to teach technique, as much – each athlete will adjust it for their own style,” said Mayer. “There is not just one way to do it. All of the world class throwers are different. It depends on the musculature.”

Mayer learned from repetition, knowledge engrained thanks to throw after throw after throw.

One of his current pet projects has been assembling content for something he calls: “Just a Little Coaching Book”. Snippets of wisdom represent a lifetime spent in the world of track and field, the sub-sections range from the Comfort Zone to Mechanics of Events and on to Little Secrets. A delightfully light read, the collection of stories, anecdotes and such is as diametrically opposed to a tedious academic read as one might imagine.

Consider the following short excerpt: “If you don’t make mistakes, you won’t learn to throw any better. Practice is a really good place for mistakes and screw-ups. Try to make them all at practice so you don’t have none left for the meet. If you don’t want mistakes, don’t come here. Getting better involves wanting to get better and taking that extra step to improve.”

On the surface,, nothing too mind-blowing, nothing too deep. But when delivered with the gentle, positive style that is authentically his own, J-P Mayer finds a way to work his magic, his relationship with the athlete at the root of the talented thrower that is to come.