Chapter 17

Bobby and I had decided to work hard on Tuesday but skip our morning workouts on Wednesday and Thursday. We’d run that by Coach Miller and he agreed. We weren’t going to get any faster in the next two days, but we could be more rested.

Tuesday evening, Franklin picked me up for kung fu. On the way, he thanked me for checking on Karen. I told him about our crazy Halloween party experience. Sifu taught us about angle changes when slipping punches and how they could help us avoid the backup weapon and set us up for a counter. He made it look ridiculously easy. All you had to do was slip a punch, shift away from the other hand, and settle your weight into your stance to deliver a counterpunch with power. As soon as we had a bit of a handle on that, he added kicks. There was simply too much to think about all at once.

When we finished, Franklin asked me to tell Sifu Chen about our Halloween party and how I’d rescued the little guy. He listened to the whole story, asking for details every now and then. When I finished, he asked a couple more questions and then stopped to think for a minute.

“It sounds like you did a good thing. The proof is in the Jello,” he said.

Franklin snorted and said ‘pudding’ but Sifu Chen didn’t seem to notice.

“May I suggest an alternative outcome?”

“Yes, sir. I’d like to hear what you think,” I said.

“Perhaps PJ had it coming. Perhaps PJ was the initial aggressor. Perhaps they are brothers. Perhaps Crank was an undercover police officer and this was helping establish his position. Perhaps PJ is one of my students and he could have easily handled Crank. Or, perhaps they would both turn on you.”

“I don’t think any of those things are possible,” I said.

“You don’t think they are possible? Or you don’t think they are likely?”

“Likely, I guess. I don’t think any of those things are likely.”

“With what you have told me, neither do I. But it is always good to consider possibilities. There is much about this you didn’t know. You had never been to that house, knew very few people, and you especially didn’t know either of the possible combatants.”

“You’re right. I didn’t know any of that. What was I thinking?”

“You were thinking that PJ would get destroyed in a fight with Crank and someone needed to do something.”

“So, you think I did the right thing?”

“I think it’s very easy to consider all of these possibilities a week later. It is much different when you must decide in the moment. This time, the pudding was chocolate. Perhaps next time it will be a flavor you don’t like,” he said. I wasn’t sure if he’d mixed up his metaphors or if that’s what he meant to say but I got the idea.

“My results were good, though, right?”

“No one was hurt. That was a success. Don’t project this success into a different situation,” he said.

“Learn from this and don’t expect the same outcome if I choose to use a similar approach in the future?”

“Yes, yes. I think that’s good. Do you have the chance to talk to this PJ?”

“Not really. I know about where he lives but that’s it.”

We were quiet for a few moments. “If you had walked away, and a fight had started in which the smaller man was hurt, how would you feel?” I bit my lip. “Then, I think you did the right thing. Every situation is different but it seems that you did the right thing. It was a very creative approach. Very good. Very good.”

“Thanks, Sifu. I felt pretty good about it that night.” He smiled and we were done. Franklin and I bowed and he returned it and we left.

“Told you,” Franklin said. “That was a good thing. It worked and no one got hurt. You know what else?” he asked. “Sifu Chen didn’t offer a better approach, did he?”

“No, I guess not. He did have some good stuff to think about. It’s crazy. He teaches how to fight but teaches why you shouldn’t and how to avoid it.”

“Maybe he’s not really teaching how to fight,” Franklin said. That was probably true.

Wednesday afternoon, Coach got us all in the bleachers to prep us for our last meet of the season. We were in a pretty good mood and he didn’t say anything to change that.

“Gentlemen, you’ve worked hard this season and it has paid off,” he said with a big smile. “We have the conference sewn up. Comparing times, I think we’ll be able to beat Bishop England, too. It’s always nice to beat the Battling Bishops. We have some other opportunities to take advantage of as well. Regionals is in ten days and I’d like to give everyone the best possible opportunity to succeed.

“There’s one more meet tomorrow, but I think if you’ve got one of the six fastest times so far, it’s pretty safe to say you’ve qualified. The times to beat are posted,” he said, pointing to the board. “If you think you can beat one of those times, say so. We’ll time you today and make sure you have the chance to prove it tomorrow.

“As it stands, Mr. Claire, you have qualified for two hundred free and IM. Oh, and backstroke,” he added and everyone laughed. Of course, he had. “You’ve got the fastest time in the region and that means everyone will be gunning for you. Would you care to add anything to that?”

“I’d like to swim five hundred free, Coach.”

“Five hundred free,” he said, writing it on his clipboard. “Mr. Vechey, you qualify for breaststroke. With the times I have, you’d be in the six lane. If you care to move up in the world, you can do that tomorrow. Care to add to that?”

“Yes sir. I’d like to swim breaststroke again and see if I can’t move to the four lane. I’d like to swim the fifty free and hundred free, as well.”

“It’s about time someone did that. We haven’t had anyone go to regionals for the fifty in years. Fastest man in the pool. Good. And the hundred, as well. If we have three swimmers compete in the hundred free at regionals, they’re going to want to test the water here,” he said, smiling.

“That sounds good. You’ve got it. Mr. Pierce, you’ve had quite a season. You’ve already qualified for the one and two hundred free, IM, and fly. Do you want to swim the five hundred tomorrow?”

“Yes, sir. And back, if we have a slot.” We could only have two swimmers per event.

“Bobby doesn’t need it. That do it, Pierce?”

I thought about it for a minute. “Sir, Gil needs someone to chase in the fifty. I think I’d like to give him that opportunity,” I said, as though I were doing him a favor. Everyone laughed.

“Holy shit, Aquaman. You pull that off, you’ll qualify for seven events,” Ryan said.

“No breaststroke?” Allen asked, pretending to be amazed.

“You know that old saying,” Coach said. “Whether you think you can or think you can’t, you’re right.” We’d all heard it. “Whoever said that, has never been to the nuthouse. There are people there who think they can lay an egg.”

“You’ve been to the nuthouse, Coach?” Aaron asked.

“You don’t think Porter-Gaud could find a sane person to coach you goofballs, do you?” We laughed. “Seven events are a lot. You’re competing against the best and only the two fastest move on to State. Competing in seven events is impressive. Coming in third in seven events ... well, that’s not so impressive.”

“I’d like to try the fifty free tomorrow. If I don’t try it, I’ll never know. And I don’t have to race it at regionals if I don’t want to.”

“That’s right. Alright, gentlemen, time to get wet. Aaron, I want to work with you on your backstroke a bit. Let’s see if we can’t knock four or five seconds off your time.” That got a laugh. Four or five seconds was an eternity.

We jumped in the water for a pretty relaxed workout. The guys that knew they weren’t going to compete at regionals had one more race left in the season and they knew it didn’t matter too much to the team but it might mean a lot to them personally. I swam a fifty for time and it seemed like it would be fast enough. Then I focused on backstroke.

Most of us got out of the pool when the period was over. A few more laps the day before our last meet wasn’t going to make much of a difference. I had a plan for both Bishop England and regionals. I ran it by Coach Miller and he agreed that it was sound.

I showered and dressed, then walked over to the gym to see how the ladies were doing. I waited until they took a break and approached Kim.

“I think we need a faster song but it’s too late to change,” she said.

“Tempo is that important?”

“If we hit everything exactly right, we’ll do okay. We’ll definitely do better than last year. But if other schools have a faster tempo and hit all their stuff, we won’t win.”

“I hope you’re wrong,” I said.

“Me too. We’ll do okay. If you’re waiting on me, don’t. We’ll be here a while.”

“You sure?” I asked. She nodded and kissed me, then went back to the squad.

I realized I didn’t have my chemistry assignment and walked the halls to get to my locker. I was about to pass the band and orchestra room when I heard someone playing piano. It sounded familiar. I went in and saw Alice Littleton playing. I’d seen Coach Littleton’s daughter around but I didn’t know much about her. She finished and realized I was there. I clapped.

“Ha,” she said and I thought she might have been disappointed in her playing.

“Pretty good,” I said. She didn’t look convinced.

“Aquaman,” she snorted, derisively.

“Guilty. Jack Pierce but the nickname sort of stuck,” I said, walking closer. “I thought you did fine.”

“Really? You know anything about classical piano? Not a lot of jocks in here.”

“I know enough to know that sounded pretty good.”

“Really,” she said, obviously doubtful. “What did I just play?”

“Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata, the second movement.” I’d heard Sally play it enough times to be certain, and it caught her off guard. She was close to speechless.

“I, I, I can do better. How did you know that?”

“Sometimes, even jocks have class,” I said. I turned to walk away, and said, “The one I really like is where Bugs Bunny is a barber, messing with Elmer Fudd’s head.” I kept walking, letting her try to figure that one out. “You know, the Rossini piece.” I knew she wouldn’t know if I was messing with her or not.

I was almost to the door when she started playing Rossini’s Barber of Seville. “That’s the one.” I turned and smiled and she did, too. Score one for jocks. I grabbed my chemistry and walked home. Women are strange, I thought. Most of them, at any rate.

Mom cooked shrimp and grits for dinner, probably figuring I’d want that with a big meet coming up. I didn’t think food played much of a role in my performance but I wasn’t going to tell her that. I knocked out my chemistry homework and hit the sack early.

Thursday at lunch, Marci asked questions about our swim meet with Bishop England. She was starting to figure it out. I had to smile when Annie and Lisa answered some of the questions. I looked at Bobby and he was grinning, too. We had fans. Haha. Who would have guessed?

The bus ride over to Bishop England was quiet. It always was. Aaron had headphones on and was rocking out to some mystery band. The last time I’d asked, he was listening to The Butthole Surfers. They were terrible. Maybe he could imagine the band chasing him. That would make me swim faster.

We found our way pool side, shed our warmups, and got in the water while Coach Miller talked to their coach. I had a hunch what he was going to say. Since we’d already wrapped up the conference, we would be using the meet as an opportunity for some of us to qualify for regionals and for some of our new guys to get some experience. Don’t take offense. That was my guess, at any rate.

I climbed out, just as a bunch of our cheerleaders showed up. We were the only swim team to have cheerleader support, at least as far as I knew. It was great for us and distracting for the other team. I waved but stayed away from them. I wanted to keep my focus and Kim knew it.

For the medley relay, more than half of the team swam. It was my first time to start that race and it seemed weird. I looked at Bobby on the pool deck and he looked google-eyed at me. It was funny but I got my focus where it needed to be. Just another day at the office. We managed first and fourth which wasn’t bad. Bobby swam the two hundred free and killed it. Gil was right behind him. They were both back for the two hundred IM and came in first and second again.

The fifty free was the next event and I went to the blocks. I tuned everything out and got ready. The fifty free is so short and so fast that there is zero room for error. On top of that, the start is crucial. There isn’t enough time to recover from a bad start. That’s why the fifty free has more false starts than the rest of the events put together. If that weren’t enough, this would be my one and only attempt at the distance. It was my only chance to qualify for regionals.

I took a couple of deep breaths and tried to calm myself. I made the mistake of looking over at the cheerleaders. Kim had scooted forward and was squeezing the bench for all she was worth. In track and field, there are dozens of events but the hundred-meter sprint determines who the fastest man alive is. People will forget the results of everything else but remember who won the hundred meter. 1976 was probably the exception since an American won the decathlon and Hasely Crawford from Trinidad and Tobago won the sprint.

Why was I thinking about running when I had a pool in front of me? I heard the four short whistles and climbed onto the starting block. Shortly after that, one long whistle let me know the other swimmers were in position. I got my feet in place. “Take your mark.” I reached down and turned myself into a human spring. I would swim my own race.

The horn sounded and I was airborne. I sucked in a huge breath of air before I hit the water and nearly windmilled to the other end. Ten strokes and I hit the turn without breathing. Two strokes toward home, one big breath, and laid it on like the Butthole Surfers were chasing me. I touched first but that didn’t mean much to me. What was my time?

The times came up on the scoreboard. I knew that was the fastest I’d ever swum but was it fast enough? I looked at Coach Miller as he checked other times on his clipboard. He looked back at me, nodded, and signaled ‘six’. I had the sixth fastest time in the region. That made the decision easy. I climbed out, trying to catch my breath. I had a few minutes until my next event so I toweled off and pulled on my warmups. I walked over to the girls, taking my time so I could catch my breath. Man, was I winded.

“You only took one breath,” Kim said as I sat next to her.

“That’s how you do it. The race is too short to waste time breathing.”

“Everybody else took a couple of breaths,” she said.

“Everybody else lost, Baby.”

“Well, I guess that’s true enough. Still ... you okay?”

“I will be in a minute or two. Sixth. Coach said that was the sixth fastest time for the fifty.”

“Good enough to qualify,” Kim said. I wasn’t so happy with it. I gave her a kiss and went back to the end of the pool to wait my turn to swim again.

Bobby and I both stepped on the blocks and took a look at our competition. One guy was probably a senior and I remembered him doing pretty well the previous season. I didn’t recognize the other. I took a good look at the large clock by the side of the pool. I knew what my splits needed to be. I planned to beat those. I checked my pulse while we waited. It was back down to the low fifties which was a pretty good recovery for me. I heard the whistles and reminded myself not to go out too fast.

The horn sounded and, once again, I was airborne. I’d only taken four or five strokes when I knew that I’d gone out too fast. It didn’t matter. I flipped and came up looking at Bobby, nearly a full length behind me. I felt good so I held my pace. With each lap, I lengthened my lead and the clock said I was on track for a personal best. I still felt good and continued to press. After eight laps, I saw Coach Miller standing and hollering, something I rarely saw him do. A couple of times I thought about taking a little speed off but I didn’t. The goal wasn’t just to win the race but to qualify for regionals. I hit the last lap hard.

On my last leg, I could see that I had a three to four length lead. I kicked for all I was worth and swam through the wall. It felt good. It felt really good. I popped up to look at my time and then Coach Miller. He held up his clipboard with all the times on it and then one finger. It wasn’t hard to read his lips. “Top qualifier.” Man, that felt good.

I was still floating on cloud nine from my five hundred results when it was time to try to race backstroke. I was in the water, next to Bobby when he turned to me with a big grin. “You can’t hang, Aquaman.”

“Ha. I don’t plan to chase you. I plan to beat you,” I said with a straight face, trying hard not to laugh. And then I realized, maybe I could. Only one way to find out and he wasn’t going to give it to me. Not this time. I adjusted my goggles and got ready. The horn sounded and we were off. Two laps seemed so short after the five hundred. After the first lap, I was even with Bobby’s shoulder. Not bad. I turned my feet into flippers and turned it on.

I had never kicked that hard before and felt I must surely be gaining. I didn’t want to look. I simply wanted to pass. When I saw the flags, I pushed even harder, jamming my fingers into the wall.

“You’re a butt, Pierce,” I heard Bobby say when I popped back up.

“What? Did I beat you?”

“Oh, hell no, but you made me work and that just ticks me off,” he said, laughing.

I climbed out after him and when I stood on the deck I looked down at his flippers. He started to walk back to the bleachers but I stopped him and put my foot next to his. “Holy crap, Bobby, what size shoe do you wear?”

“Thirteen, why?”

“It’s cheating, that’s why.”

“Because you have tiny little flippers?” he said, still laughing.

I shoved him and walked over to Coach. I wore a size nine. “Look at the size of his feet,” I said. He ignored me, looking at his list of times.

“Pierce, sometimes you’re a piece of work. You did fine. You qualified for back. Let’s see. You’re currently qualified for fifty, one, two, and five hundred free, IM, and back. Six events. Bobby, you’re qualified for one, two, and five hundred free, IM, and back. Gil is qualified for the fifty and one hundred free, breast, and back. Allen qualified for breast. That’s the best we’ve ever done, gentlemen. Oh, and, we’ve already beaten Bishop England with one race to go. You’re up.”

“I don’t know, Coach,” I said, looking down at my size nine feet. “I suddenly feel inadequate.”

“We’re switching the order. Pierce, you’re anchoring. Maybe they can give you a lead so your tiny little feet don’t lose the race for us,” he said and we laughed.

Bobby, Gill, Allen, and I clustered around the starting block. Our other team was around their block, trying to figure out how they were going to place second. I realized Allen might have a shot for one hundred free if we let him start.

“Line up in order, guys,” I said. Bobby was in front with Allen second. “Switch,” I said. “Switch places. Allen, kick ass and qualify for one hundred free.” He looked at me with a little bit of doubt and a little bit of hope. “You can do it. First swimmer has a chance to qualify. The rest of us already have.”

They switched places and we smiled. If Allen qualified with this swim, Porter-Gaud would take up half the pool for the one hundred free. It was almost comical. Coach saw what we’d done, smiled, and nodded. It was almost absurd but it was possible.

“Swim your race, Allen. Don’t even worry about the other lanes,” Gil said. Allen nodded, and put his goggles on.

Four short whistles and the starting swimmers climbed onto the blocks. I looked over at the girls and smiled. There was no pressure. We’d already won the meet and we had three, maybe four of the fastest swimmers in the region all on the same team. One long whistle and Allen put his feet on the edge of the block.

“Swim your race,” Bobby said. “You’re the only guy in the pool.”

“Take your marks,” and then the horn and they were off. No pressure, I thought. I wondered if the girls realized what was going on. It didn’t matter. If he made it, great, and if he didn’t, we’d just win this race. Bobby climbed up on the block.

“Bobby, let’s crush these guys,” Gil said.

Allen was in front and none of us were going to give up any time. I realized I didn’t know the exact time Allen needed. It didn’t matter. I looked up at Bobby. “Clean start, Bobby,” I said and he nodded. He’d had a false start but that was early in the season. He wasn’t going to do it again. Allen touched the wall and Bobby was off. I looked up and Coach Miller was smiling.

We piled it on. By the time Gil took off, we had a three-length lead over Bishop England’s best. He stretched it to four lengths and when I touched, we had beaten them by six lengths. Our second team came in third, beating their second team by a respectable margin. That was what domination looked like.

We walked over to congratulate Bishop England on their effort but they had been humiliated. It was hard not to laugh. I told Kim I’d meet her back at school and got on the bus with the rest of the team.

“Gentlemen,” Coach began and then started laughing. We all did. “I’m proud of you. Great effort and great season. We had no losses in conference this season. Not one. We dominated BE and locked up the conference title a week ago and, on top of that, we have about a dozen entries at regionals. Mr. McClusky will present a trophy to the team at our next school assembly. I don’t know when that is. The last meets of the season are tomorrow and when they’re finished, invitations for regionals will come out but I’ll know for sure by Monday morning. Nicely done, gentlemen. A lot of you were probably second-guessing your commitment to two-a-days when you first started but it paid off. I’m proud of all of you.

“Freshmen, that’s how it’s done. We’ll talk about off season next Monday. Tomorrow, the pool is closed. Go home, tell your family and friends how well you’ve done, and for goodness sakes, use some conditioner on your hair. A lot of you guys look like the scarecrow.” We laughed at that but he was right. Nothing paid for our time in the pool the way our hair did.

“Shaving it off, Coach,” Gil said, and we all laughed.

I met Kim in the school parking lot and we walked back into the gym together. Coach Miller was talking to Gil, and I planned to wait outside but he motioned us in.

“What’s on your mind, Aquaman?” he said and motioned for us to sit.

“I don’t want to interrupt,” I said, nodding toward Gil.

“I have a hunch Gil’s going to be interested. What’s on your mind?”

“Well, sir, I’ve done way better than I would have imagined.” He nodded. “If I try to swim all the events I’ve qualified for, I could end up not advancing in any of them.”

“Two hundred free is first, followed by IM. I think you’d have a pretty fair shot at advancing at least on those two.”

“That might be true. After that, it gets a bit tricky. You said I qualified for fifty free but where did I end up on the list?”

He looked at his clipboard again. “Sixth.”

“I was pretty fresh today, swam lights out, and still just managed sixth.”

“That’s nothing to sneeze at.”

“No, and I don’t want to make less of that than it is. I’m pretty proud of it, actually. But only the top two at regionals move on. After qualifying sixth, I don’t think it’s reasonable to think I’d move up four slots. How close was I in time to the number two guy?”

He looked again. “As tight as the times are, you’d have to find an extra gear.”

“I haven’t practiced at that short distance. That’s the only time I’ve raced it. And it wiped me out.”

“It does tend to suck the life out of you. I take it you want to pass on that.”

“I think I’d have a lot better chance at advancing on other events if I didn’t.”

“I won’t argue with that. You probably have the best chance to advance at the two and five hundred free.”

“And less of a chance at the fifty. That would still be five events.”

“That’s a lot,” Kim said.

“I’ve done four in almost every meet this year and backstroke is at the end of the meet.”

“Your toughest turnaround is going to be from the one hundred to the five hundred free,” Coach said.

“I’ll swim the one hundred to win and give it my best shot at the five hundred. If I didn’t swim the five, who would move into my place?”

“No one from Porter Gaud, and right now, you have the fastest qualifying time. Don’t even think about not competing in that.”

“Alright, Coach. I think that’s it.”

“I’ll pull your name from the fifty, then,” he said and Kim and I stood. “And Pierce, before regionals, see if you can find some bigger feet.”

“I’ll take him shopping this afternoon, coach,” Kim said, but we didn’t laugh. Did it really matter?

“I bet that was a tough thing to do,” Kim said as we climbed into her truck.

“A little, but it’s just being realistic. I mean, I haven’t raced the fifty all season and some guys have been doing it for a couple of years.”

“What about backstroke? How long have you been racing that?”

“If the fifty free and the hundred back switched places on the schedule, I’d probably drop backstroke. I have no idea how I improved that much in back.”

“Yes, you do. You told me. The same way Bobby improved his freestyle. You coached each other.” She was right. It was just that simple.

Dane’s truck, Doctor Legare’s truck, and Doctor Calhoun’s car were all in the driveway when we arrived. I had no idea what the special occasion might be. A crowd on Thursday nights was unusual.

“Hey, everybody,” Kim said. “Aquaman kicked butt.”

“Baby,” I protested.

“He has qualified for six events at regionals. On top of that, he has the fastest qualifying time for the five hundred freestyle. Whoo-hoo!”

“Nice job, Aquaman,” Dane said. Doctor Legare shook my hand and patted my shoulder and Doctor Calhoun gave me a thumbs up.

“When are regionals?” Mom asked.

“Next Saturday. Kim competes this Saturday and I do the following week.”

“Look at you, two,” Doctor Calhoun said.

“I’m proud of you, Buddy,” Mom said.

“We all are,” Dane added.

“Thanks. Getting to regionals is nice but I have to finish in the top two to advance to state.”

“Where are regionals and state competitions held?” Doctor Legare asked.

“Moncks Corner for regionals and I think state is in Columbia,” I said.

“Early? Eight or nine?” he asked.

“I think they don’t start until ten so people who have to travel don’t have to start too early,” I answered.

He motioned for me and I walked over to him. He felt my shoulders, then turned me around and put his hands on my back. He poked and prodded and his right thumb hit a hot spot and I yelped. He patted my back and I turned around. He fished a business card out of his pocket, wrote on the back of it, and handed it to me. I flipped it over and it looked like a prescription but it wasn’t. It was a name and number with some other words I didn’t understand.

“You’re a mess. Nashi Minuo is the best at therapeutic massage. Give her a call and tell her I sent you. Do that as soon as you can and if you’re happy with what she does for you, schedule a follow-up two days before regionals, and again before state.” Everyone was listening. “You have time before regionals so I’d like to suggest a little experiment that might prove valuable. Do you drink coffee?”

“No sir.”

“That’s alright. What I want you to try is caffeine. Quite a few of my clients have found it beneficial when it comes to promoting fast twitch response. An hour before your next workout, take two NoDoz with a little something to eat. That will give you the same caffeine as a couple of cups of coffee. You probably know your hundred and two hundred free times the best. Time yourself and see how you do.”

“Caffeine?”

“Caffeine. It works for some people. Most, actually, but make sure it doesn’t upset your stomach. Test it long before your next competition.”

“And other athletes have had success with this?”

“They have. For collegiate swimmers, they’ve shaved from two to three seconds off their fifteen hundred. To be honest, there needs to be a lot more research and it could simply be a placebo effect. Some shave their legs and see results. I’m inclined to believe that’s a placebo effect but if it works...”

“It’s worth a shot.”

“I think so. Don’t forget to eat a little something. Not a lot. Just enough to keep your stomach quiet.” It was the fastest I’d ever heard Doctor Legare speak. That had to mean something, too, right? “I believe you’ve met Oscar Beard.”

“Coach Beard?”

“He coaches at USC. Some of his swimmers have tried it with demonstrable success.”

“You know everybody, don’t you Doctor Legare?”

Now, his voice slowed back down to normal. “Ah don’t believe I’ve ever met the Pope.”