The picture I got from Tanner later that evening was indeed remarkable. The guy was blond, had killer dimples and looked like he spent all his spare time at the gym. He didn’t look much older than Tanner, and I texted him that if I were that guy, I’d leave medicine for a more fulfilling career as an underwear model.
Tanner never wanted to talk much about his treatment, so I respected that and didn’t push. I could always pump Lou for information, although we hadn’t crossed paths much lately. Now that school had started, I had classes to attend and he had athletes to train. Tanner would be home at the end of the next week, anyway.
Coach Nazi, on the other hand, always seemed to pop up during my laps in the pool. To be fair, he was really a pretty good coach, even if he wasn’t very friendly or free with the compliments. My form was improving, and I decided that swimming could be a refreshing alternative to running for my aerobic exercise after lifting.
The odd time I did bump into Lou, he seemed very pleased that I’d taken to the water.
“Your knees and ankles will thank you when you’re my age,” he said. Swimming is about as low-impact as it comes.
I realized I’d made a serious tactical error when I let word of my aquatic activities slip to Eliot and the gang—now I had an audience on a regular basis. Lou had kindly presented me with a blue terrycloth robe with the same gold Cal logo as my Speedo, so I felt less self-conscious about walking from the locker room, through the gym and out to the pool, but at some point I had to slip out of the robe and into the pool, almost always with Eliot and one or more of his partners-in-crime to watch. For moral support, he’d insist. Right.
My full class schedule meant that I was pretty limited in scheduling my workouts, which meant I couldn’t change them with any kind of spontaneity to thwart my personal pep squad. They would hoot and whistle and cheer me on, and it became embarrassing to the point that I had to ask Eliot and the guys to cool it a little. I was worried that if I indeed were to make it on a team, their carrying on might create friction between me and my teammates if the cheers got too crude. Or a less open-minded, much bigger team member might simply beat them to a bloody pulp. Or me. At least they hadn’t tried to follow me into the weight room to watch me lift—yet.
The appointed hour arrived for me to practice with the water polo team, and even though this wasn’t my usual time in the pool, my faithful peanut gallery was in attendance.
“Don’t you guys ever have classes?” I asked Eliot as I walked up to the small group on the bleachers.
“I could ask you the same thing,” Eliot replied. He was accompanied by Bobby, Trent and Randy.
“Inspired answer, El,” Randy said.
“Say, Ryan,” Trent asked, “do you think you can keep a high enough GPA to stay on the team?” He and Bobby dissolved into giggles.
“Miyashi!”
I was saved. Coach Welch motioned with a slight jerk of his head for me to get into the pool.
“Shall I hold your robe?” Eliot asked innocently.
“You’ll just keep it like you did that guy’s underwear,” Bobby said. More giggles. I rolled my eyes and walked away. When I got to the edge of the pool, I slipped out of the robe and laid it over a bench with some others. I noticed most of them had embroidered names.
“Coach said to give you this.” A large sun-bronzed hand was holding a fabric cap with ear guards. I turned and looked up. And up. “I’m Andy,” he said.
The most perfect specimen of manhood I’d yet beheld—at least in real life—was smiling down on me and holding out his enormous hand. He was six-feet-five, maybe more, with shoulders that were inhumanly broad and a thick barrel chest that ran down to a waist that couldn’t have been much bigger than my own.
While he wasn’t ripped to shreds like Tanner, it seemed impossible to account for an ounce of fat anywhere on his body. His legs were long and shapely and powerful-looking. Instead of the plain blue Speedo with the modest Cal logo that I was wearing, Andy’s had light and dark blue stripes, the Cal Golden Bear on the right front and—here’s the best part—a jumbo Cal Water Polo logo splashed right across his ass.
I know what you’re thinking—now just a ding-dang minute, you’re nutty-cuckoo over that Tanner feller.
Fair enough. And I learned ding-dang, nutty-cuckoo and feller from Tanner.
And isn’t your current boyfriend, all these years later, as big as a brick shit-house and makes this jamoke look like a twig?
Also true.
There’s an old joke where two buddies are walking down the street and one of them can’t help leering at a pretty young woman. The other man berates his buddy and reminds him he’s married, and the leering man replies “I said I was married. I didn’t say I was dead.”
Rim shot. Now, back to our regularly scheduled programming.
“You must be Ryan,” Andy said.
“P-pleased to meet you,” I babbled, “A... a... ”
“Andy,” he repeated, his huge hand engulfing mine.
“Andy! Right!” I said like I’d just received an electric shock. Andy held out the cap and I took it with my other hand and promptly jumped in the pool. Why, you ask? It was the closest thing to a cold shower. When I found myself nose-to-chest with Adonis himself, my teenage body reacted predictably and I found myself quickly getting hard as a rock. The family jewels were already on clear display through the tiny scrap of fabric I was wearing. The last thing I needed right then was the mother of all boners with my so-called friends laughing like hyenas.
I popped my head out of the water and glared angrily at the group on the bleachers. Stop it, I mouthed.
“Coach didn’t say you were such a go-getter,” Andy said with a smile. He pulled an identical cap from his waistband and pulled it over his blond head. “Put your cap on,” he said as he tied the strap under his chin. I remembered the cap I was holding and held it up above the water to get a better look. As I did, Andy slipped into the water next to me.
It was similar to the kind of cap that competitive swimmers wear, except that it was cloth, had a chin strap and two cage-like plastic ear guards. As I was putting it on, Andy moved in close to the pool’s edge.
“Are those your friends?” he asked, keeping his voice low. Andy must have sensed a reaction, because he went on before I could answer. “Hey, it’s okay,” he said, “I’m cool with it. With them. With you.”
“D-does it really show that much?” I asked.
“With you? No.” Andy said with a chuckle. “Your friends? Hell, yes.”
“They’re not usually such jackasses. Maybe Coach Nazi will ask them to leave.”
“I said it was okay. Everybody’s welcome here. Just for the record, we don’t have any gay players this year. Yet.” Andy winked when he said that last part.
“Why are you telling me this?”
Andy took a quick look around before he spoke.
“Actually, Coach Cruz asked me to watch out for you,” he said.
“For God’s sake... ” I started to lift myself out of the pool.
“Ryan!” Andy grabbed my arm and pulled me back. I was momentarily distracted by the fact that his big hand went nearly around my bicep. So strong... “He didn’t announce it to the team. It’s just that I owe it to Coach Cruz. He knows that Welch can be a dickhead, and he didn’t want you scared off.”
“Scared off?”
“Uh, bad choice of words.”
“And a good choice would be?”
“Well, okay... Lou knew that somewhere along the line my dad was going to make you mad, and he didn’t want you to quit.”
“Well, I’ve got news for you, Tarzan, I... wait... your dad?”
“Theodore Andrew Welch, Junior” Andy said, holding out his hand. “Pleased to meet you.”
“Get out.”
“But we just got in.”
“I meant... ”
“I know what you meant.” Andy smiled and playfully splashed water in my face.
“Welch!” It was the assistant swim coach. You know. The one I called a Nazi to his son. That coach.
“Yeah, Coach?”
“Take Miyashi down to the other end and show him the eggbeater.”
“Yes, sir.”
Andy started swimming away while I floated there wondering what the hell is the eggbeater? A second later, Coach Welch’s earsplitting whistle pierced the air and I was startled into action. As I started to swim after Andy, I heard my groupies once again making catcalls and laughing hysterically.
“You clowns knock it off, or I’ll have you tossed out of here,” the coached barked as he walked past.
“I’m sorry I called your dad a Nazi,” I said when I caught up with Andy at the other end of the pool.
“Don’t worry about it,” Andy said. “I’ve heard worse. I’m the one that called him a dickhead.”
“Still... ”
“I said it was okay. Dad’s just really good at what he does. Really good, but sometimes his style can rub people the wrong way. We went almost two years without speaking once.”
“I—I can’t even imagine that.”
“I was fourteen when my folks split up. I was so mad at him. I thought everything was his fault. I was being so stupid. Something like that is never any one person’s fault. They got joint custody, but I told the judge I didn’t want to see him. Because I was fourteen, the judge didn’t make me. He tried to convince me to give it a try a couple of times, but I wouldn’t have it.”
“So, what happened?”
“Well... Mom had a hard time finding a job. When she finally did, it was in Houston. Starting to connect the dots?”
“You don’t mean... ”
“Yep. I wound up at that big ol’ high school where Lou—Coach Cruz—was the head Coach.”
“That’s... really weird.”
“Not really. Sometimes things just happen.”
I wasn’t sure anything about the Cruz family surprised me anymore.
“That man is everywhere,” I said.
“Seems that way, sometimes,” Andy said. “Anyway, that was a tough time for me. I was fifteen, in a new city, new school, and I had serious daddy issues. I was one miserable SOB.”
The coach’s whistle screamed again.
“Welch!” Coach shouted, “this ain’t no tea party! Quit yakking and work with the newbie!”
“Sure thing, Coach!” Andy shouted back, and then turned to me. “Okay Ryan, let me see you tread water.”
I did as I was taught all those years ago at the Y. I pushed away from the side of the pool and started gently kicking with my feet and sculling my arms slowly forward and back just enough to keep my face out of the water. Andy moved away from the pool side.
“Now, watch me,” he said. “I start with my legs in a sitting position, knees bent ninety degrees. Then I make a circular kick with my lower legs in opposite directions.”
As he did, Andy rose out of the water well past chest level, and stayed there as long as he continued the motion. “I wasn’t sure which was more impressive—seeing Andy rise so high out of the water, or just seeing Andy’s chest.
“This is the eggbeater,” he continued. “It takes a lot of power and endurance.”
Oops. There went my little soldier again—just when I had him calmed down.
“This is a critical skill in water polo,” Andy said. “You need to stay up high to see the action. You need to do this to effectively pass, receive, score or block a goal. Let’s see you try it.”
I bent my legs and not surprisingly, my head slipped momentarily underwater. When I started swirling with my lower legs as Andy instructed, my head lifted out of the water. I kicked a little harder, and my shoulders were uncovered.
“Good,” Andy said. “You’ve got the basic stroke. See if you can go higher.” I started kicking even harder and rose up to the level of my armpits, and my leg muscles were starting to burn. All the while, Andy maintained his upper body above water and kept talking normally.
“How’s that?” I asked, trying not to allow my voice to waver.
“Not bad,” Andy replied. “Keep it up. Where was I? Oh, yeah. There I was, a kid that was mad at the world.” He wasn’t even using his hands. He put one finger to his lip and looked up thoughtfully. “I should also tell you that I was-six-feet-three and weighed one-hundred and nineteen pounds. Soaking wet.”
I was starting to breathe heavy and sank back down to my chin.
“I’m guessing... that this was... where Lou came in,” I said.
“Got it in one, kid,” Andy said. “I was all knees and elbows and couldn’t take two steps without tripping over my own big feet. Other kids picked up my low self-confidence. They called me stick-boy and bullied me something terrible. I hated going anywhere near the locker room. Coach Cruz took pity on me. Lou has the knack for getting adolescent energy, angst and anger channeled constructively into athletics. That’s what he did for me.”
“This is... starting to sound... familiar,” I said, gulping air.
“You sound like you’re getting winded,” Andy said. “You can tone it down a little.”
“Um... okay.” I sank back down to a more comfortable level.
“That’s not bad for your first time. Keep doing the leg movement so you get used to it. And so my dad doesn’t yell at us.”
We spent the rest of the practice learning other basic skills like passing and receiving, and I learned how to do a kind of cross between the crawl and the breast-stroke that allows a player to move quickly from one part of the pool to another pushing the ball ahead without holding it, all the while keeping my head out of the water to see the play.
In between the tips and pointers, Andy kept up his story about how Lou wheedled him into first working out to build up some bulk, and then to go out for the swim team. Even when he was still skinny as a rail, Lou recognized that Andy had the perfect body type with the long arms and legs, broad shoulders and narrow hips of a great swimmer. Swimming was a hard sell, because of Andy’s feelings toward his dad at the time.
As Andy filled out and showed real promise as a swimmer, his self-confidence grew. Lou saw an opportunity and convinced Andy to reconcile with his dad. In his Junior year, Andy had his final growth spurt and topped out right at six-six, with huge hands and feet and over a seven-foot wingspan. That was when Lou convinced Andy to switch to water polo, and it’s been trophies and medals and scholarships ever since.
“Hit the showers!” Coach Welch called after blowing his whistle. Everyone started climbing out of the pool. I followed Andy along with the rest of the swimmers over to a shelf of neatly-stacked towels along one wall. I was transfixed by Andy’s amazingly broad back and the way his full, shapely ass cheeks moved as he walked. It was almost unthinkable that this amazing, powerful man who moved with the grace of a dancer and exuded absolute confidence had ever been a timid, gawky, clumsy teen with anger issues.
“You’re Tanner’s boyfriend?” Andy asked casually as he rubbed his head with his towel. I was toweling off while trying to keep the towel strategically in front of my crotch. It was bad enough trying to maintain my composure with Andy’s incredible body towering over me—now I was surrounded by the biggest collection of male eye candy I’d seen in my young life. I glanced over at my friends on the bleachers and saw them alternately giggling and whispering in each other’s ears. Any minute, I expected the camera phones to come out.
“Uh, yeah,” I said distractedly.
“You’ve got a tiger by the tail there, kid.”
“Tell me about it. So you know him?”
“Almost as long as I’ve known Lou. Tanner’s the most strong-willed... ”
“Stubborn,” I interrupted as we pulled on our robes and started to the locker room.
“... self-confident kid I’ve ever met.”
“So, he’s always been like that?”
“As long as I’ve known him. That’d be... um... about six years.”
“That would make you... ”
“Just turned twenty-one, and a senior. This is my last year at Cal. I’m glad I’m able to train with Lou one last time.”
“Has Tanner always been so annoying?”
Andy stopped and looked down at me with a smirk.
“Worse. Before he got sick the first time, that kid was worse than Dennis the Menace.”
“And that’s different... how?”
Andy let out a chuckle and slapped me on the back.
“Just trust me on that,” he said. “If I told you a few stories, T-Man might come after me with a baseball bat. I’ll just tell you that the neighbors started calling him Little Damien after the kid in the horror movies.”
“And then he got sick... ”
“Yeah. Everything changed, not surprisingly. Unlike me, Tanner was always highly competitive, but he lacked focus. The cancer taught him to focus on a single goal, and he’s been that way ever since.”
“Why do you say, unlike me?”
“I had to learn to be competitive, but first I had to learn self-confidence. That’s what Lou taught me.”
I thought about that for a moment.
“I don’t know, Andy,” I said. “I’m pretty good at learning things, but I don’t think that’s something that can be taught.”
“Maybe that’s not the right way to put it,” Andy said. “Lou knew that it was just a matter of time before my reflexes and coordination caught up with my body—I wasn’t done growing, after all. That’s why he started me out with a simple weight training program. He let me use the gym during off hours so I’d be more comfortable.”
This, too, was starting to sound familiar.
“It was inevitable that I’d gain weight and start to fill out,” he continued, “but Lou made me feel like I had some control over it at a time when everything else seemed out of control. I grew another inch and gained forty pounds that first year. I’ll never be able to do that again! Girls started to notice—woo-hoo!”
“And you lived happily ever after,” I said cynically.
“Hell no!” Andy stopped and turned to face me, laying his big paws on my shoulder. “There was one girl in particular that seemed pretty interested, and I made up my mind that I wasn’t going to let her see me get pushed around anymore.”
At that moment, some of the other players passed us and Andy exchanged the usual bro-type nods and ‘sups. I nearly flinched when one of them smiled and gave him a loud smack on the ass. Andy playfully reached for the guy, but of course he was ready for him and ducked into the locker room before Andy could grab him. He put his hands on his hips, shook his head and grinned. Andy’s robe pulled open slightly when he did that, giving me another tantalizing look at his well-defined pecs. If I wasn’t already in love, I’d be in love.
“And?” I asked, once I got my breathing under control. Andy looked back down at me.
“They beat the shit out of me.”