Friday was Kyle’s last chance to practice before the Olympic Fest. He went to the football field after school to set up the track-and-field equipment.
“Hey,” Sam called. “Wait up.”
Kyle looked over his shoulder and saw Sam jogging toward him. He was carrying his tennis racket, and he looked sweaty.
“How’s it going?” Sam asked. He flopped to the ground and swatted at a dandelion.
Kyle shrugged. “Okay, I guess,” he said. “I figure I’ll do well in javelin and middle of the road on shot-put and discus. But at the rate I’m going, I might end up getting disqualified for the hammer throw.”
“Let me see you throw the hammer,” Sam said.
“All right, but stand back,” Kyle warned. “I never know where this thing is going to land.”
Kyle concentrated. He began to spin around in the circle and pick up speed. When he thought he was lined up to throw straight down the field, he let go. The hammer arced left and flew into the running lanes of the track surrounding the field.
“Wow,” Sam said. “That’s …“
“Not good,” Kyle finished for him. “I know.”
“You’re strong enough to throw it,” Sam said. “Your timing is just off.”
“Oh, really?” Kyle asked. He felt annoyed. How would Sam know?
“Yeah,” Sam said. “When are you letting go of the handle?”
Kyle took a deep breath and looked out to where the hammer had landed. Then he turned and glanced down toward the goal posts at the other end of the football field.
“I don’t know,” he said. “I guess when it looks like I’m lined up with where I want to throw it.”
Sam nodded. “So what about letting go sooner?” he suggested. “Try letting go of the hammer a quarter-turn early.”
Kyle got ready to try again. He tried to throw it like Sam had suggested. The hammer went off to the left again.
“See?” Kyle said. “I told you. Nothing helps.”
“Okay,” Sam said. “Let go even earlier this time.”
Kyle threw the hammer again and again. Each time it went a little straighter.
Maybe he’s right, Kyle thought. But he still couldn’t make it perfect.
Kyle sighed. “Thanks for the advice,” he said. “But I might just have to accept that Trevor’s got the hammer throw in the bag.”
“Don’t say that,” Sam said. “You have to at least try to beat him on every event, even the one you like the least.”
Kyle held up the hammer. “Well, this is the one,” he said.
Sam picked up his tennis racket and turned around. “What are you doing later?” he asked. “Want to come over and play video games or something?”
“Nope,” Kyle replied. “If I want to have a shot at beating Trevor, I need to practice until I can’t do it anymore.”
“Wow,” Sam said. “You must really want to beat this guy.”
You have no idea, Kyle thought.