The next afternoon, Jerry skipped practice at the pool. The minute classes were over, he marched down the school steps, still limping a little, and went home.
He was up in his room oiling his baseball glove, when his mother called up to him.
“Jerry! Can you come down here, please?”
He carefully put the glove and the oil away in his closet, and went downstairs. A strong smell of something baking was in the air. He followed the aroma into the kitchen and found a surprise.
Tanya and Tony were seated at the kitchen table.
“We could smell your mother's chocolate chip cookies a mile away,” Tony explained, with a silly grin.
Jerry said, “Yeah, sure.”
Tanya gave him a look that seemed to say, “You dumbbell.” At least, that's how it appeared to him.
“There's more milk in the fridge,” said Mrs. Grayson. “Help yourselves. I have to pick up your father at the dentist, Jerry. I'll see you later.” She put on her coat and went out the back door to the garage.
“So what are you guys doing here?” Jerry asked. He eyed a chocolate chip cookie, but he didn't pick it up.
“I told you, we're here for the cookies,” said Tony. He stuffed his mouth with another one.
“Oh, cut it out,” said Tanya. “We're here to talk to you about swimming practice. You skipped it today.”
“So what? I don't have to go to practice, you know,” said Jerry. “I'm not trying out for the team.”
“What about your exercises? You know, for your leg?” asked Tanya.
“I can do them when I want,” said Jerry. “How do you know I didn't do them at the Y?”
“The Y pool is used for diving practice in the afternoon,” said Tony. “Can't swim there for another half hour.”
“Maybe I'll go then,” said Jerry.
“Aw, you're just sore 'cause Lars and Wayne showed you up yesterday,” said Tony. “That's so dumb. I told you they were just fooling around.”
“Yeah, but everybody else was laughing, too,” said Jerry. “Their girlfriends thought it was great the way they made me look like a chump. Boy, if it was out on the baseball diamond, I could show them a thing or two!”
“What if one of them had a real natural swing at bat? If one of them could really hit the ball once he learned a thing or two?” asked Tanya. “Wouldn't you want him to play for the team?”
“Sure, but he'd have to show he could really hit all the time, that he wasn't just a flash in the pan,” said Jerry.
“And how, Mr. Sports-Expert, would you be able to tell that?” asked Tanya.
“You could tell in practice,” said Jerry “And after he played a few games.”
“That does it,” said Tony, getting up from the table. “If you substitute swimming for baseball, you could have been talking about yourself.”
“What do you mean?” asked Jerry.
“Sit down, Tony, and let's explain a few things to him,” said Tanya.
“You start,” said Tony, sitting back down at the table and picking at the edge of another cookie.
“You have a terrific natural crawl, Jerry,” said Tanya. “I saw it when you were doing your laps that first day at the pool. Remember how I told you that you were pretty good for a baseball player?”
“Yeah, but when we did laps together, you were better. You beat me by a mile,” he said.
“Right, because I've been practicing for a long time. And, besides, I knew what I was doing in a race,” she said.
“Yeah, it takes more than a natural crawl,” said Tony. “How do you think people like Lars and Wayne got so good? And they didn't even have the advantage of a natural stroke to start out with. I've seen Lars practice nothing but the breaststroke or the butterfly for hours. And Wayne still puts in time doing land drills for the backstroke. So do I. So does every good swimmer.”
“So you think I might be a pretty good swimmer if I worked at it?” Jerry asked.
“I'm sure you could develop a great crawl without much trouble,” said Tanya. “But to be a really good swimmer, you have to know all the strokes — butterfly, backstroke, and breaststroke, too. You have to know how to dive and how to turn. And you have to know the rules.”
Jerry was surprised to hear the serious tone in Tanya's voice. Did she think he wasn't enough of an athlete to learn all that? He would show her — and Tony — and Lars and Wayne, too. But there was still something holding him back.
“What about Coach Fulton? How come he never told me I should go out for the team?” Jerry asked.
“He probably wanted you to decide for yourself,” said Tony. “He doesn't like to put pressure on anyone.”
“I have to admit he was pretty nice when I was doing my therapy at the rehab center,” said Jerry
“He's the same at the pool,” said Tanya. “Except when he sees someone goofing off or not making an effort. Then he can be a real shark!”
“So, you think if I asked him if I could try out for the team, I mean as a replacement or something, he'd help me learn all that stuff?” asked Jerry.
“Only one way to find out,” said Tony. “Hey, was that the last cookie?”
Jerry wiped the crumbs off his face and smiled.
After Tanya and Tony left, Jerry went for a walk down the street. Sometimes, if he sat too long, his leg still stiffened up a little. Walking it off made him feel better.
He found himself heading in the direction of the neighborhood playground. That was where his accident had happened on the baseball diamond so many weeks back. As he approached, he could hear voices.
“Come on, Sonny, let 'er rip!”
“Easy out, Jimmy, easy out!”
A couple of the guys he used to play ball with were fooling around with an old tennis ball and a broom handle. It wasn't like real baseball, but it still stirred up the old feelings in him.
“Hey, Sonny. Hi, Pete. How's it going, Jimmy?” he called over to them.
“Great,” shouted Jimmy from the mound. “Soon as I woof this guy!”
He did. In three swings and misses, Sonny went down.
Pete got up next. He hit the ball on the second try. According to the unofficial sandlot rules, that put him on first base.
“What do you say, Jerry? Want to send him all the way home?” called Jimmy.
Jerry looked at the field. There was no one around except the three guys. And it wasn't a real baseball game. It couldn't hurt to take a few swings.
“Just a couple of swings,” he said to the others. “I…I gotta be home in time for supper.”
“Sure,” said Jimmy. He flashed a big grin.
Jerry could tell he was dying to strike out the sandlot batting champ. Well, I'll give him a good workout, he thought.
He gripped the sawed-off broom handle in his old familiar way. It was so much lighter than a bat, he was a little awkward at first.
Two pitches went by. All four guys argued whether they were strikes or balls. Jerry found he could still out-shout the others, and they were declared balls.
The third pitch was straight down the middle.
“Thwunk!”
The broom handle connected, and the ball went sailing deep over the pitcher's head.
With a smile, Jerry dropped the broom handle, turned up his jacket collar, and called over, “See you later, guys. I gotta go.”
Not bad, he thought, but not ready. Still not ready to play baseball. The thought turned over and over in his mind as he made his way home. But I can still play sports. Swimming is a sport, after all.
Just before the next swimming practice, Jerry went over and spoke to Coach Fulton.
“I was thinking,” he said. “I was wondering if you thought it would be okay, you know, for my leg, that is. I mean, I thought I might try out for a spot on the swimming team, if you'd be willing to teach me the rules and stuff.”
Coach Fulton put down his clipboard and extended his hand to Jerry.
“I think it would be terrific,” he said, shaking Jerry's hand. “You have a lot of athletic ability and a nice easy crawl. It would be a shame to waste it. And I'd be happy to show you how to improve your other strokes. I can't promise you a spot right away, but you keep working at your swimming and learning all the strokes, well, I think something will turn up.” He picked up his clipboard. “I'll just add your name to the roster.”
From that day on, Jerry worked out every afternoon with the swim team — but still did his leg exercises beforehand. Sometimes he would swim with Tony and Tanya, sometimes he'd practice by himself. But those two became his regular pals and strongest supporters.
Tony worked with him mostly on the butterfly and the breaststroke. Jerry took to the first one pretty easily. He had a lot more trouble with the breaststroke.
“Come on,” said Tony. “It's fun when you get the hang of it. Let's start off with a little land drill.”
Jerry groaned. He knew what that meant: flapping his arms and legs about while he was still outside the pool. He always felt a little stupid doing land drills.
But he soon mastered a basic breaststroke and could hold his own while doing laps with Tony.
And after a little practice with Tanya, he started feeling more and more comfortable, too, with the backstroke.
But his greatest pleasure was in doing sprints with either one of them using his overhand crawl. Neither of them said much in the way of pointers. He figured he had that stroke down pretty well on his own.
At the end of two weeks' time, Jerry's head was spinning with everything he had learned about the different strokes. “Next week,” Tanya said with a twinkle in her eye, “we'll start teaching you about flip turns, hand touches, medleys, false starts, disqualifications —”
“Whoa! Slow down! No more!” groaned Jerry. He held his nose and ducked under water. But not before he saw Tanya grinning at him.
He came up for air just as Coach Fulton blew his whistle. “Okay, everybody, listen up,” he said. “You all know we've got a meet tomorrow, ten A.M. sharp. Even if you're not scheduled to swim, I'd like you to be here, in uniform, to cheer your teammates on. Remember, all your names will be on the roster in case I have to bring you in as a substitute for any reason. But for now, everyone hit the showers, and get a good night's sleep!”