Fred Evans: The Quiet Force Behind Champions

He is eighty years old, he is completely deaf, and he is one of the most respected coaches in the country. Tonight, Sabreena Daly introduces us to Fred Evans, a man who refuses to let silence define his life or his legacy. Here is this week’s ‘Looking on the Bright Side.

 

Sabreena Daly, Reporting

On any given day at the Marion Jones Sporting Complex, dreams are alive and well. Athletes training. Waiting for the next opportunity to wear their country’s color and flag with pride. On the track, history-maker Nyasha Harris is putting in the work chasing a personal best, and then the one after that. On the field, discipline is on display. This is where winners are made long before the world catches notice. And a face this track knows well, a man who has given his life to sports and mentorship. Fred Evans, still at it. At eighty years old, most people are slowing down. But Fred Evans is still very active. He recently secured a gold medal in a triple jump, a feat that leaves even those decades younger in awe.

 

Kimberly Casimiro, General Secretary, Belize Athletics Association

“ Seeing him competing, and he won, he got his gold medal, and I asked him how. He said, ‘Well, if I want my athletes to win gold, then I, as the coach, also have to do my best and win a gold.”

This is the standard Evans sets at the Marion Jones Sporting Complex. He doesn’t just whistle from the sidelines; he represents Belize on the international stage at the Masters Championships. Still, there’s a side to his leadership that some might find a bit off-putting: Coach Evans lives in a world of total silence.

 

Fred Evans, Head Coach, Belize Athletics Association

“In the mid-’90s, I realized that I had an ear problem.  Eventually, I lost all hearing, and a hearing aid doesn’t help.”

 

For gold medalist Nyasha Harris, silence isn’t a hurdle, it’s just a different way of listening. At the track, these athletes have developed their own way of communicating with their coach.

 

Nyasha Harris, Athlete

“During the years, it became really easy. We use technology by typing to him on the phone or our own way of charades or communication, for example, this means tomorrow or later on.”

 

Because of this deep connection, Evans has become more than a coach; he is a benefactor. The modest, irregular stipend he receives from the Athletics Association rarely stays in his pocket. Instead, it’s invested in track spikes and bottles of Powerade for kids who have nothing.

 

Kimberly Casimiro

“Mr. Evans comes with a wealth of knowledge, a wealth of wisdom. Anything you want to know about track and field, Mr. Evans is the go-to person. I always refer to him as the AI of track and field.”

 

Dylan Jones has witnessed this brilliance firsthand for decades. Long before they were teammates in the Masters category, he was a young student learning the fundamentals from the master himself.

 

Dylan Jones, Athlete, Masters

“He has been a mentor of mine as I was a member of the track team for many years. And he taught me all the fundamentals in terms of track and also the field events.”

 

That mentorship now spans entire families. Audra Andrews once captured gold under Coach Evans back when he still had his hearing. Now, she watches as he instills those same values of discipline and resilience in her daughter, Willia.

 

Audra Andrews, Parent

“ It’s a complete full circle. As we can see, he have trained generations upon generations. I’m telling my daughter, “You’re gonna get one of the best,” ’cause I remember Mr. Evan and Mr. Morrison at the time, and I’m telling her, all those gold medals that you see I have, I went out, uh, represented Belize as well in these type of events, and it was Mr. Evans who was my trainer.”

 

Through the years, that energy hasn’t wavered. Despite the silence, Jones’ mentor is still finding ways to leave a mark on the sport.

Dylan Jones

“He has some records in Central America, and it’s amazing that given the impediment that is before us or before him. He is making waves in his own way, in his own right.”

 

As the sun sets over the track, Evans isn’t thinking about the medals he’s won or the hearing he’s lost. He is thinking about progress. For him, the “fire” of competition is the only thing that separates life from mere existence.

 

Fred Evans

“I am alive. To progress is to live. No progress is to exist, and that’s the difference between living. I don’t know when I will die, and I’m not in a hurry to die. But at the same time, I need to live.”

 

And for Coach Fred, that progress is found in the sand of the triple jump pit and the spikes on his athletes’ feet. He isn’t just waiting for the end; he is busy living. Looking on the Bright Side, I’m Sabreena Daly.

 

Attention readers: This online newscast is a direct transcript of our evening television broadcast. When speakers use Kriol, we have carefully rendered their words using a standard spelling system.

 

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