For every young person who grew up with a surplus of athletic energy and a serious desire to be active and competitive, there was always that dreamy moment when he or she imagined turning professional.
What could be better? Doing what you love to do as a teenager, only getting paid for it? With benefits?
It’s all good until the aspirational youngster mentions it out loud to someone older. Then come the warnings about how so many others want the same thing, how they are bigger, stronger or faster, and not to mention others who have trainers and other sports specialists to help them along.
Odds are always staggering against becoming a professional athlete, especially if you grow up on the Big Island where there are no professional teams, no major college teams and no way to get into a higher level without a truck load of desire, determination and plenty of money for airline travel. But if Hilo can generate six active professional baseball players, if Max Unger can develop into one of the best centers in the National Football League out of Hawaii Prep, you know, at some level, these dreams can come true.
Lets widen the lens of what constitutes a sport, and consider the much better odds of becoming a pro by staying right here on the Big Island, like Hilo native Pono Kodani did back in 1996.
“I love this life,” he said, “because I’m one of those guys who is going to be working out all year, and the more I do, the more it helps my job and the more I do my job the more motivated I get to do more.”
So maybe you never thought about being an ocean lifeguard as an engaging sport that lasts well beyond the early 30s of most major sports, but the truth is that only finely tuned athletes can handle this job and it’s more personally relevant than finding that hole between first and second when runners are in motion.
Your life might depend on someone like Pono Kodani, a St. Joseph grad who joined the Marines, came home and has been keeping people safe in the water for almost 20 years.
Lately, one of the unintended consequences of the recent lava flow in lower Puna has been that while that area lost ocean lifeguards, there are now eight more — 24 in all — to serve Honoli’i, Richardson Beach and Punalu’u, which is just about enough for now. There’s a need for at least two lifeguards to be on duty at all times for the demanding work.
It’s a significant role in a place like ours where the ocean flirts with us to come play on a daily basis and, too often, people rush in where they should not be.
A big part of the job is barring entry to the naive, the inexperienced novices who assume they will figure it all out when they get out there.
“Probably, one of the biggest parts of the job — the thing that keeps people alive — is the preventive actions we take on a daily basis,” Kodani said. “Sometimes you can tell just by looking at them, that they aren’t ready. They will have the wrong kind of board, or just a body board with no lash, they have no fins, you might hear them say something about never having been here; when we see them, we stop them, we talk a little and then we have to tell them to come back another day with proper equipment.”
It’s a big job that often gets overlooked or simply taken for granted, but it’s one of those endeavors worthy of respect, and nothing against pool lifeguards, but keeping people safe in the ocean is a whole other job.
Pool lifeguards have complete control of their surroundings, which amounts to the polar opposite of ocean lifeguards who have no control at all over the conditions, the rain that fell earlier, changing the currents, hidden rocks and reefs, maybe even a shark.
Sharks seldom visit Honoli’i, where Kodani spends three days a week, but they are examples of a job that requires constant surveillance.
Kodani is a tireless supporter of the annual strenuous lifeguard competitions. Events like a 1.2-mile run followed by a 500 meter swim; there’s a 100-meter run backed up by a 100-meter swim, then back on the track for another run; there’s a run (500 meters), paddle (200 meters), swim (200 meters) competition and a beach flag dash that involves 10 lifeguards running 25 meters to grab one of nine flags, and they keep going until only one contestant remains.
For 13 years running, Kauai won the competition, but a couple weeks back Oahu broke the string of success. The Big Island competes every year, always sends fewer contestants than the other islands and has little chance of winning, but Kodani says winning, while a bonus, isn’t what makes a good ocean lifeguard.
“The skills are good and we all get impressed when we see them, but it goes deeper than that,” he said. “You don’t have to be the best at the skills, more important is knowing the root of the job, which is knowledge and understanding of what you’re dealing with.
“We see (former) collegiate swimmers come to us a lot and they are really, really good, so we get impressed, then we look deeper and maybe they know nothing about CPR, maybe they are diligent and don’t understand the conditions we have to face.
“To make it here,” Kodani said, “yes, you have to be physically skilled, but really, more important than that is understanding the conditions, knowing when someone isn’t prepared to be out there, giving the proper advice; those things are so much more important than, like, being a good swimmer.”
The results can generate a bigger payoff than any professional in almost any other support, depending on what you value. Kodani and the 23 other ocean lifeguards on the east side of the Big Island have county jobs with benefits and while they don’t have $100 million contracts, they are sometimes called to do more than a catch a football while running fast.
Years ago, Kodani was at Honoli’i when he looked to the north and saw a group of people wildly waving their arms. By the time he hustled to the spot, Kodani found a male body, floating face down. The man had jumped off the bridge and was not responding.
On the fourth cycle of CPR and mouth-to-mouth, Kodani brought the man back to life, an ambulance was there minutes later and rushed the man to the hospital.
“I’ll never forget it,” Kodani said, “and in some way it still motivates me. I brought a man back to life, a dead man, not breathing, face down, and I was able to give him new life.
“It makes you proud to do this job.”
He can tell stories that make you smile, others that make you shake your head over the incomprehensibly dense folks who would venture out into danger.
Kodani can’t imagine another job that can provide the challenges and rewards of this one, because he knows there is more to come.
“You have to be ready for anything, really everything, at any time,” he said. “And I know what’s going to happen one day, probably at Richardson — I’m going to have to deliver a baby.
“I have seen so many pregnant women at the beach and sometimes you wonder if they should be at the hospital, so I’m sure it will happen, one day.”
Bringing life at the start of a journey or saving one that seemed lost?
All in a day’s work for the safety force at the ocean.
Play smart.
Comments? Questions? Whistleblower tips? Contact Bart at barttribuneherald@gmail.com
