Читать книгу Making Waves - Chris Epting - Страница 8

Introduction

During a relay, all that has to be touching the side of the pool is the swimmer’s fingernail. And all that has to be touching the starting block is their toenail.

I keep thinking that.

Just her fingernail, and just my toenail. Those are the rules in the relay. As I’m standing on the block, watching Jill Sterkel swim toward me, that’s what I’m thinking about, because she has a slight lead right now. This tough and tenacious fifteen-year-old actually has a lead. And if I’m going to keep that lead, I’m literally going to need the best relay exchange of my life.

This is probably the loudest crowd I’ve ever heard. It’s almost surreal to be standing on this platform.

Is this really happening?

This is the last race of the Olympics and our last chance to win gold. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. This is not what everybody expected. We were not supposed to be fighting for our dignity. But we are.

I’m getting ready. Come on, Jill. Hold that lead. Remember what we all talked about in our dorm room last night. What you’re doing right now is unbelievable. You’ve actually taken the lead, and that’s why the crowd is going so crazy. Nobody thought we would be in this position right now. After this insane last week or so, it’s been all about the East Germans—how wonderful and talented they are, and what a disappointment we American girls are.

Most of the girls on the team were intimidated coming into these Olympics. But now they’re just demoralized. It’s such a weird thing to walk into the locker room and find what you think are guys in there. And then it turns out that it’s actually a female swimming team, one that is now beating you day in and day out, that comes from a country one fraction the size of yours, and that, all of a sudden, is producing some of the strongest swimmers in history over the course of just a couple of years.

But hey, why should any of that seem suspicious? Why should anybody take notice except me, a Southern California girl with a penchant for speaking her mind?

We can’t help it if we’re not cheating. We can’t help it if all we do is play by the rules. I’ve been swimming twenty miles a day for the past four years. How much more was I supposed to swim? I’ve been setting what would have been world records, were it not for these grotesque mutations otherwise known as the female East German swimming team.

But right now, none of that matters. Nobody wants to hear that right now. All that matters is the lead that Jill has. Because that little lead may help produce one of the biggest upsets in Olympics history.

But we’re not there yet. I still have to close this thing out.

Focus has never been much of an issue for me in my swimming career. I know how to focus and I know how to win. Sometimes I feel like a machine. But right now, it’s a bit of a challenge to stay completely focused in the moment. If we win, will the press stop calling me names? Will it be the end of “Surly Shirley”?

If we win, will the coaches and officials and media finally open their damned eyes and start looking into this team of so-called women that look and sound like men?

Okay, Jill is getting closer. One thing that used to frustrate me was watching how swimmers would wait to wind up for the take-off until their teammates actually touched the edge of the pool. That’s a lot of time wasted. If you start your wind-up early and then dive in the air, timing the other swimmers touch perfectly, you can pick up a good deal of time.

Of course, a good deal of time is a relative term. We’re talking about a sport in which a tenth of a second and a hundredth of a second actually matter. But executed perfectly, there was definitely a chunk of time to be made on the start.

I’m not going to wait for her to touch before winding up. I’ve got to watch her closely, just like we all talked about last night, just like we play-acted in our dorm room, as we were living out the race over and over and over in preparation for this moment. Was that really just last night? It seems so long ago. I never thought those positive thinking courses they wanted us all to take would ever come in handy, but last night, they sort of did. Lying there on the bunk bed, zoning out and imagining that we were all swimming the race at the same time, it really was sort of interesting. I think it helped. And at this point, what did we have to lose?

We were using anything we could get. Even those matching rainbow suspenders we all bought. Sure, maybe it was just a gimmick, but for us, it was fun and it made us look and feel like more of a team. Walking out on that deck, everybody seemed to notice it too. So maybe it was a good idea after all.

When you’re going up against a demon team like this, never know what’s going to work. You have to try everything.

Okay, I’m focused. The crowd is beginning to fade away, and the tunnel in my mind is starting to tighten and narrow. The moment is at hand.

Jill, you are amazing. I almost can’t believe you’ve taken the lead like this. Of the many teams I’ve swam with over the years, all over the world in hundreds of competitions, I don’t think I’ve ever been prouder than I am of the three girls I walked out on the deck with today.

I’m the last in this relay. If I can hold this lead, then we will achieve what many considered to be impossible.

Here she comes. Okay, Shirley. Don’t leave early, be careful, and don’t be too anxious.

Winding up, I see Jill’s final stroke as she’s about to touch the wall, and I explode into the air. I’ve never left with such force in my life. Every ounce of my body, every muscle in my system is dialed into this moment. It’s never felt better.

But in the back of my head, something is wrong. The second I hit the water, I think to myself, I left too early. In my zeal to achieve the perfect start, I cheated the clock just a bit.

Her fingernail.

My toenail.

My entire world now comes down to whether or not I waited long enough for her fingernail to touch that wall before taking off.

But as I hit the water, I also think to myself, it doesn’t matter. They’re not going to stop the race. If I did in fact leave early, then once I finish the race and look up, I will see the little red dot by my name on the scoreboard. That will mean I’ve been flagged for an early start.

But that’s not important right now. All that’s important right now is that I just put my head down and go. Just go, go, go, go, go, go. Everything else will sort itself out in the end.

Right now, I’m in the water and I need to hold this lead. Almost instantly, upon impact, the roar of the crowd is back in my head.

Only now, it’s louder. My start has caused the crowd to erupt even further, and I can hear them with each breath—thousands of people screaming like maniacs for me to hold that lead. Thousands of people who seem to know that there’s been something very wrong at these Olympics. Thousands of people who want me to finish this thing the right way.

It’s so weird where life takes you. I was a skinny little girl that no swim team ever wanted. My mother would actually use me as a bargaining chip when teams wanted my brothers instead. You have to take Shirley, too, she would tell them. And so, begrudgingly, they did.

I wonder if any of those coaches remember me?

Are they watching me on television right now?

Are they here, cheering for me?

You will never have another moment like this, I keep thinking to myself. This is a sprint, one length down and one length back. This is what I’ve worked for. I can do this. God, I can do this. I have to do this.

Swim, Shirley, swim.

Listen to that crowd and let them feel you.

You know how to do this. You can do this.

You’re going to beat these cheaters.

You have to.