Trey Knight's rise tied to afternoons with grandpa

By Doug Binder, DyeStat Editor

RIDGEFIELD, Wash. -- Without a word, Trey Knight takes the walking stick from his grandfather and moves to the cement pad to go through his warm-up routine.

Knight holds the stick above his head and uses it to stretch his arms and shoulders, pulling gently one way and then the other. Then he rotates and swings the stick around his body, mimicking the footwork and motion of a weight throw.

The walking stick has a name. It’s called the “Trey-beater,” a term packed with irony. Trey bought the walking stick for his grandpa, John Gambill, two years ago in a gift shop on a side trip through the Redwoods on the way to Sacramento for the USATF Junior Olympics.

Trey, a 15-year-old sophomore at Ridgefield High in Washington, spends more time with his grandpa than anyone else.

Trey does his grandparents’ grocery shopping for them. He does their yard work.

But mostly, he spends nearly every afternoon with his grandpa, who is also his throwing coach.

“We’re pretty close,” Trey says. “I’m really happy about that. He’s my best friend.”

Trey Knight is traveling across the country to compete at New Balance Nationals Indoor this week in New York City, and he is going with his dad. Neither one of them have been to New York before.

His grandpa has arthritis in his hip and doesn’t make the long trips. Instead, he’ll follow the action on Facetime and offer instruction when he sees something amiss.

For practice on a cloudy day in Ridgefield, located about 16 miles north of Portland, Gambill has a walker and seat that he uses to be close enough to administer a workout. It’s a throwing day. Other days, they do lifting sessions at a local health club.

Gambill studies his grandson’s movements and critiques.

Keep your elbow down. As soon as you started, that thing went up high.

Don’t jump. Ride through that block.

You almost fell over. Keep that head and shoulder UP!

Trey launches the the 25-pound weight high and far enough to possibly win the national title this week. He owns the sophomore class national record (83-6.75) and has thrown 12 feet farther than anyone else in the country. GOURLEY'S LIST

Even his practice throws look like potential winners this weekend.

But grandpa’s keen eye provides instant feedback as Trey lumbers across the sand with his size 15 shoes to retrieve the implement.

The quality of a throw, good or bad, does nothing to change Trey’s demeanor. The criticism that follows from grandpa, good or bad, elicits a shrug, a one-word reply sometimes, and a grin. Every time.

“I could get after him all day and he’d just grin at me,” Gambill says.

After about a dozen tosses with the weight, Trey moves to the shot put. He has already thrown 64 feet, 5.25 inches this year, which puts him slightly ahead of the marks Ryan Crouser was throwing at the same age. (Trey turns 16 in May).

After 15 or 20 minutes of putting shots, Trey and his grandpa move over to the discus circle for 10-15 solid throws with the third implement – one he’ll be relied on to score points in dual meets soon.

Trey’s favorite events are the indoor weight throw and the hammer. Shot put has also been clicking this winter. And the discus, he’ll start getting into that in a few more weeks.

Gambill played college basketball for two seasons at New Mexico State in the mid-1960s. He averaged 13 points and seven rebounds a game for the 1967 “Miracle Midgets” team that beat defending national champion UTEP twice and lost to Houston and star Elvin Hayes by one point in the NCAA Tournament. New Mexico State’s starting lineup topped out at 6 feet 1.

Gambill’s athletic genes ran through his two daughters, who were both Washington state champions in track and field, and into his grandkids. Trey has a younger brother, an eighth grader who plays basketball, and already stands 6-3.

Throwing is what Trey loves to do, but it’s unclear whether it’s the throwing or spending time with his grandpa that keeps him motivated.

“Their relationship is something really special,” Trey’s mom, Heather, says. “Trey goes out and does his thing, but he doesn’t get worked up over it or lose sleep over it. I’ve never seen Trey get upset about anything.”

Grandpa knows how to push Trey’s buttons, but only on rare occasions is there even the slightest pushback.

Trey seems to be devoid of nearly any teenage angst. He takes his grandpa’s words, internalizes them, and smiles.

“It’s just a family thing,” Gambill says. “We enjoy each other. I’m very proud of him.”

At home, Trey has a coat rack supporting dozens of medals. But throwing, other than a few turns now and then on the kitchen floor, is reserved for time spent with grandpa.

After he does his homework, Trey likes to settle in with a movie before going to sleep. He loves movies, but he tends to use them to relax and rest his body.

The afternoons and weekends usually belong to grandpa, who has taught him how to be one of the best young throwers in the country, arguably the best prep competitor in the indoor weight and hammer since Conor McCullough of Chaminade CA ruled the ring a decade ago.

They don’t often talk about goals. They just take one day at a time.

Pressed for his vision of where he’d like this to all lead, Trey’s face lights up.

“Go to the Olympics,” he says. “That’d be it. I don’t even have to win, just go there and compete.”

It’s a dream that only works if it’s shared with one other person, his best friend and coach. Grandpa.