The Wednesday before the final meet of the regular season, the coach made an announcement.
“We have a two-hour practice scheduled for today,” he said. “We'll all go through some drills on the four basic strokes during the first hour. Then, I want to devote the second hour to just the backstroke.”
The backstroke! Has he been reading my mind? Jerry wondered.
“It's one area where a lot of you need some work,” Coach Fulton went on. “But not everyone is going to be doing it during the meet. So, just the names I read off, please stay, while the rest of you can take off. Okay, for extra practice on the backstroke, I want to see the following—”
He went down the list alphabetically. Within seconds, Jerry knew that both he and Tony were among the group putting in the extra practice on the one stroke that was a real challenge for both of them. And so was Tanya. And, of course, so were Lars and Wayne.
Tony gave him the thumbs-up sign when his name was called. Jerry smiled and gave one back to his pal.
“Okay, everyone,” said Coach Fulton when the second hour began. “Let's all get into the pool and form lines in the six lanes. Everyone, boys and girls. And mix it up. I don't want all of one or another.”
Usually, they were kept apart. Jerry wondered what the coach was doing. They weren't going to be entered in the same events. Why mix them up?
He didn't have to wait long for an answer.
The coach moved around and switched people in different lanes. “You, over there. Paul, get behind Jillian. Tony, move into the lane on your right, in front of the group.
“You all have your own strengths and weaknesses,” Coach Fulton explained. “I want you to take a good look at someone you haven't really noticed, probably, and see what you can learn from him or her. Get yourselves ready, and let me see you do fiftys at five-second intervals. And watch. Open your eyes and your minds.”
Jerry couldn't believe it. He was right behind Tanya. What was he going to learn from her? He watched her all the time, and it hadn't really helped him yet, he thought.
Tanya was fourth in line. After the first three swimmers had taken their place at the end of the pool and pushed off, it was her turn.
Jerry looked at her closely. Little wisps of gold hair poked out from under her bathing cap as she stood for one moment with her back to him, facing the edge of the pool. Her arms were at her sides, her shoulders gently sloped, her head erect.
She looks really comfortable, Jerry thought. Really relaxed.
Then, she quickly positioned herself for the start and pushed off with a real spring.
Wow! She really takes off! thought Jerry. Or maybe it just seems like she does because she's so relaxed before that. I bet that's where she gets all her energy, from that little pause. After that, the rest of it is ice cream. Maybe that's what she's been doing all along—and I just never paid attention.
He tried it when it came time for him to take his turn. He couldn't let go of all tension completely, but he was a little looser for a moment before push-off. From then on, he knew that he was doing better. He felt that he had really gotten one clue that would help him master the backstroke once and for all.
When each lane had gone through two rotations, Coach Fulton blew his whistle.
“Okay, everyone out of the pool,” he said. “Take seats for a second while I set up some trial races. Okay, in lane one I want —”
He went through two girls races — a fifty-yard and a one hundred — before he came to the boys. Tanya was the clear winner in her race. Jerry was pleased for her and delighted that he had found out her “secret weapon.”
“Now, we'll try a hundred-yard boys backstroke.”
He's not even starting with the sprint, Jerry realized. He must have that one all decided.
“Let's have Lars Morrison in lane one, Jerry Grayson in lane two, Tony Kendrix in lane three, Wayne Cabot in lane four, Paul Prescott in lane five, and Sammy Wu in lane six. Move it, we don't have all day.”
There was no time to get psyched up for the race. Jerry guessed that the coach was using this trial race to decide who would swim this event on Saturday. After all the work he'd put into it, he wanted to make the cut. Didn't he deserve some recognition for all that practice?
“Is everyone ready?”
They stood in the shallow end of the pool, all facing away from the water. “On your mark!”
That's when Jerry usually tensed up. Instead, he tried Tanya's method. He dangled his wrists in the cool water and shook off some of his nervousness. He tried to let all the pressure drain out through his fingertips, to let all the tension simply disappear.
“Get set!”
Now it was time to position himself — and he did.
“Go!”
For the first time since he started this whole swimming thing, Jerry felt comfortable doing the backstroke. He ran quickly through his list of do's and don'ts. Everything checked off.
It was amazing. He used to feel a little like an ocean liner forging its way across the raging sea. Now, he felt more like a sleek sailboat skimming along the top of the waves with the current. His arms were great, flexible, outstretched paddles. His legs were synchronized flippers, propelling him along.
There was no problem about staying in his own lane now. Everything felt right as he approached the first turn. His outstretched fingers touched the side of the pool and he went into action. Down went his head, and over went his body in a somersault, and then came the twist back into position. A quick push-off with his feet and off he went, back down his lane.
Jerry knew from the splashing around him that he was in a race, but he paid no attention to who was on either side. And, without an announcer over the loudspeaker, there was no outside information. This was fine with him. He could concentrate on his own performance.
After the third turn, the splashing got more intense as the six swimmers poured it on. This was the final lap. It was the last chance to forge ahead and make a run for it.
Jerry drew on all his resources. His body had been well trained by now to perform the backstroke. But more than that, he was in excellent condition from practicing regularly for the last few months — and from years of sports training before that.
His arms reached farther back than he ever thought they would stretch. His legs kept up a perfectly synchronized kick from the thighs down. His speed increased until — at last — he touched the edge of the pool. The race was over.
Usually, when he'd finished doing the backstroke, Jerry felt a great sense of relief. But now it was a lot like the end of a sprint. He was exhausted and excited all at the same time.
But how did he do? Where had he placed? flashed through his mind.
“Good work, Lars,” said the coach. “You, too, Jerry. You almost overtook him in that last lap. Wayne, you got off to a slow start, but you made up for it and came in third. Tony, you were close at fourth. Sammy, you were fifth. And Paul, you were right on his heels. You all did fine. Now, let me see the next group of boys.”
Second! That was the best he'd ever done in the backstroke. And he'd gone up against such veteran swimmers as Wayne — and Tony.
What if the coach put him in for the hundred backstroke instead of Tony? After all, Tony'd placed fourth. Why couldn't Wayne have swum a really bad race? Or even Lars? This was exactly what he didn't want to happen.
While these thoughts were running through his mind, Tony came over to him and clapped him on the back.
“Way to go, champ!” he said. “They're going to have to refill the pool when you get through!”
“What do you mean?” asked Jerry.
“You're drying up the water with all that heat you're pouring on,” said Tony. “I'd be jealous if I wasn't so proud of you. With all the work you've put in, you deserve it.”
Here was Tony, possibly eliminated from the one event he wanted to do well in, congratulating him. It was as if Jerry had beaten him out for a slot in the batting order, but Tony didn't mind. After all, it was for the good of the swimming team.
For the first time, Jerry had a sense of what that really meant.