Butterfly Man
Our backstroke guy missed the turn. Frank, our breaststroke man was good and held our position, maybe three body lengths from the lead. I was the butterfly man. Looked like we were holding fifth place. Coach was not going to be happy. His swimmers had never lost a medley relay in a state meet in fifteen years.
I lined Frank up between my thumbs and followed him into the wall. I hit the water pumped.
Now it was black line, wall, turn, and black line. When I hit the wall I was feeling good, but couldn't see the competition and didn't have time to look. The guy in the lane to my left was a body length ahead. His kick was throwing up a big wave. I put out a big effort. Now my head was at his waist. The swimmer on my right seemed to be fading a little. I pulled up even with him. There were ten yards to go. On my next breath I turned my head slightly to see the guy on my left. Our eyes met. I knew I had him.
No one was going to beat Chuck in freestyle. He was nationally ranked. We won by half a second. Coach never said anything to me, but he gave Harry the backstroker a good five-minute earful. He wanted a new record.
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Author's Note
A different version of this appeared in my roman à clef "Ventricle of Memory."
Other stories by Daniel Harris
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Good drama!
Thank you Steven.
You're writing from inside action in this story. I like the ring tone over to Butterfly Lady. The last paragraph stings as a kind of memory for the character and a thought for the reader. A win for him and the team and yet ... *
Ann-
That's it exactly. I thought the story relevant during the Olympics.
Thanks for commenting.
Dan
Good action writing, and yes, relevant, ha. Enjoyed.
*
Thank you Matthew.
Liked the character and the action, the sense of competition, and getting off the hook in the end.
Thanks Gary for you comment. The rewards of competition are various and frequently non-existant.
I despise those types of coaches and bosses: no positive feedback for the good, only chewing out for the bad. I guess they create winners in the Olympics but it seems abusive to me.
Gloria-
Being a 16 year old kid, I just wanted to please. When you don't know differently, you are neither hurt nor ignored. It's just what it is, schmendrick in a fox hole with a gun.
My music teachers held up the highest standards, why wouldn't my swimming coach?
Dan
Gloria-
As the coach said before the meet. You guys are the four fastest guys in the state in fifty yards for your stroke. I expect you to beat my last good team's record by two seconds. We failed.
About a half hour later I swam third in the freestyle relay and we set a state and national record. Again I had to do a personal best to set up our anchorman.
No one said anything to anyone. The four of us were pretty pumped. The record stood on our high school score board for over twenty years as a pool record.
Our coach died of cancer about five years ago. He told my brother, an elite national swimmer, he cried when he had to take our names off the score board because the record had been eclipsed.
Dan