Dear President Wright,

I wish to add my two cents to the volume of protest set off by the decision to eliminate Dartmouth’s swimming and diving teams. The matter seems so urgent and I regret not having time to lay out a better letter than follows.

Skimming through a large part of the correspondence published thus far, I see that many others have managed to treat a number of essential arguments for maintaining swimming and diving at Dartmouth. James M. Bayles, whose older brother was a team-mate of mine, highlighted the long and distinguished history of Dartmouth’s swimming team. He also spoke of the balance that so many swimmers have achieved in sustaining excellent performance levels as scholars and as athletes (Dartmouth Swimming’s high grade-average standings were cited in SwimInfo, just this past May). Elsewhere, Harvard Coach emeritus Don Gambril spoke of swimmers’ “work ethic and drive.” Professor Nancy Sherman pointed out the exceptional “sacrifice and discipline” required of swimmers. Clearly there is a lot at stake here in addition to being competitive in a few dual meets. One recalls John Sloane Dicky’s exhortations to wholeness.

How did things come to this pass? What kind of leadership allows matters to come to a head in this fashion, rather than to address them early with intelligent discussion and creative problem solving? Judging by the response so far, there certainly seem to be enough concerned undergraduates, undergraduate parents, alumni, and well-wishers. How can the college overlook such an obvious and important resource? Was it furthermore not shortsighted to ignore the possibility of the wide-ranging indignation which so quickly--and predictably--has arisen? Yes, things could indeed have been handled not only more sensitively, but handled better.

In early 1963, I stood before a mailbox with acceptance letters for two college admissions boards. I posted the one that went to Hanover largely because the newly built swimming pool and the Hopkins Center offered opportunities for personal development that my second choice could not match. Not long ago, I was invited to participate in a Dartmouth Horizons Program for the Hopkins Center and the Hood Museum. It is a disgrace that I had to stumble upon this swimming crisis on my own, reading the NY Times and the college aquatics program Web-site, ten days after the decision was announced. I feel somehow betrayed. I am also given to wondering whether my enthusiasm for a project I am contemplating for the Hood ought not to be tempered.

On a most personal note, I have lately spent a lot of time thinking about my Dartmouth swimming days. I was one of the average swimmers, but I was proud of myself for making my way through every practice and every meet. I emerged with a solid mental and technical foundation. Thirty-some years later, my heart health urged me back into the water for recovery. Before long, I discovered Masters Swimming. I am fascinated by the technical changes that have evolved in the sport. I enjoy the meditative clarity that comes with the regular discipline of training. The health benefits are obvious, and this year I resumed competition. I may even try competing nationally in another year. So, I took a little longer than most people to become a contender, but I hope my example will give pause to anyone tempted to delimit “competitiveness” using inadequate standards.

I hope that it is not too late to retract this unfortunate and short-sighted decision. I would hope as well that there might be some sincere effort to deal with the short-term and the long-term needs of the program. To lose such a wonderful thing for a quick fix would be tragic and wasteful.

Yours sincerely,

Jeffrey D. L. Wortman, ‘67