Chapter
Sixteen
Jimmy Springer, August 2015
Pardon
me while I burst, into flames … I’ve had enough of the world and its people’s
mindless games … So pardon me while I burn and rise above the flame …. Pardon
me, pardon me, I’ll never be the same …
“Who sings this?”
“It’s Incubus … you don’t remember
this from back when we used to drive everywhere together?”
“Nah …. Not really …”
“Times aren’t like they used to be,
huh?” Matt glanced sideways at the boy seated next to him. As they drove
further, the street was flanked by the high school on their right side and a
construction site to their left. “They closed the old library, too?”
“Yeah … they knocked it down a
couple months ago. Probably right after your spring break ended.” Jimmy
scratched his arm absentmindedly. “Remember when you locked me in the car
before our first cross meet?”
“Oh yeah,” Matt laughed, “You were
such a little baby back then.” He glanced quickly to his left before returning
his gaze to the road. “Heck, I almost beat you in a race.”
“You did beat me,” Jimmy said, smiling back. “And I never forgot it.” Flashing
across his memory was their epic finish in Jimmy’s first invitational. After a
wild sprint, they had crossed the line at essentially the exact same time. Each
was convinced the other had beaten him, but to this day, neither had looked at
the official results.
Jimmy had let up just a few steps
before the finish line, allowing Matt to catch back up in the final meters.
Whenever he struggled to push himself in practice or a race, he remembered the
anguish he had experienced following that performance and it motivated him. Looking
back now, the race felt like it happened a lifetime ago.
“You know I used that same move on
Magness in the 16. Same thing you did to me at Hershey that race. Waited until
he eased up then nipped him at the line.” He mimicked a dramatic lean from the
passenger seat to accent his statement.
“That must have been sick,” Matt
wheeled his car carefully into the school parking lot. A few other runners were
already stationed there. “Wish I could have been there to see that.” He removed
his keys from the ignition and opened his door. Simultaneously, both men exited
the car.
“Can you open up the back?” Jimmy
called.
“Why?”
“My shoes are back there.” Matt
looked to see a pair of flip-flops on his friend’s feet. With a small sigh, he
clicked his keys so that Jimmy could open the trunk.
“Why didn’t you just wear your shoes
to practice?”
“I don’t like the way running shoes
feel. Too constricting. I want my feet to breathe a little bit, you know? Makes
me feel more comfortable and free.”
Matt rolled his eyes. “Somebody
around here needs to bring you down a peg,” he said as Springer slipped on his
socks. “You’ve kind of become a tool since I left.” They laughed as Jimmy
finished pulling on his shoes. He laced them up before rising back to his feet.
A few more runners had joined the
cluster in the lot since Matt had first parked. With the pair’s addition, the
group totaled about 12 runners. Jimmy glanced around the group, looking for
something.
“Hey, what time is it?”
“How do you seriously not have a
watch? Aren’t you supposed to be like, a runner or something?”
“Steve, what time is it?” Jimmy
said, ignoring Matt and instead directing his attention towards one of the
runners in the circle.
“It’s 6:05,” the boy responded,
looking down at his wrist. Jimmy frowned slightly. Again he scanned the parking
lot. “Did Ames tell you if he was coming today?”
“No …” Jimmy responded, giving up
his search. “Well, it wouldn’t be the first time he was late … I’m sure he’d
want us to get started.” His voice became more assertive sounding as he pressed
on. “Younger guys, you guys can
do four. Spencer, you can lead them down toward the River Trail. And then the
rest of you get in five or six. No heroes out there, alright? It’s a recovery
day.” At his command, the groups assembled and prepared to begin their
assignments. Many of the younger athletes looked at Jimmy with awed respect. He
wondered just how blindly they would be willing to follow him. All just because
he had run a couple fast times.
Together, he and Matt set the pace
for the longer group, who had implicitly defaulted to Jimmy’s leadership.
Everyone was running about the same pace, but there was a small two to three
second gap between the front pair and the next five. Matt looked over his
shoulder in confusion before pressing on at Jimmy’s side.
“What’s up with the gap?” he asked,
“Do you not shower anymore?”
Jimmy half smiled, “They’re all
scared of me or something … They just assume because, you know, I’m so much
faster than them, they should never be running with me … Like, they don’t even
want to try.” His couldn’t hide the disappointment in his voice. “Times aren’t
like they used to be, huh?”
They ran on in silence, the distance
between the leaders and the followers now slowly beginning to expand. Jimmy
kept absentmindedly drifting a couple steps ahead of Matt before catching
himself and slowing back down to stay even.
“So which loop are we doing?” Matt
said as Jimmy led him into a right turn. They were exiting the neighborhood
closest to the school.
“I was thinking we’d do the Blue Jay
Park Six Miler,” he looked back over his shoulder to check for cars before
crossing the street. “Haven’t done it in a while. You cool with that?”
“Sure … I’ll probably have to add on
afterward though. I’m supposed to be getting up to like 70 miles this week.”
“70?!” Jimmy looked stunned. “That’s
like 10 per day …”
Matt laughed. “Yeah, well we don’t
even do that much honestly. Like when you get to college at Stanford or Oregon
or wherever, you’ll probably peak at like 90 or 100.”
“How could you even run 100 miles in
a week? I don’t think that’s physically possible …”
“Glenn Fisher always used to say he
was going to run 100 in a week one day … but to be fair, he was a crazy
person.”
“What’s he up to these days?”
“Heck if I know” Matt shrugged his
shoulders, “… Haven’t talked to him since we graduated.”
Jimmy clicked down the pace another
notch as the duo entered into a wooded trail. The soft surface crunched gently
beneath their feet. The two remained quiet as they ran single file through a
narrow stretch before emerging in a short, grass field. Matt’s breathing had
grown a bit more strained as the pair returned to running side by side.
“So …” he said, “Tell me … more
about states … You never gave me the … full breakdown.”
“Well I was exhausted after districts,
not gonna lie. I didn’t even really want to try the triple.” They turned into a
sharp down-hill and Jimmy opened up his long powerful stride, forcing Matt to
press a bit more. “Ames told me he wanted me to start each race, but after that
I could drop out if I wanted to-”
“But he knew you’d never drop out-”
“Exactly. He always thought I could
pull it off, but he just didn’t want any extra pressure, you know?” Jimmy
paused as they approached the base of a hill. Shortening his steps, he charged
strongly forward. Matt did his best to keep up, head down, breathing unsteady.
Once they had crested the hill, Jimmy resumed his story.
“The 32 was pretty different than
last year ... Last year, they all just let me run away with it. They just kinda
assumed I’d come back. That never woulda happened this year so we had to switch
it up.” Jimmy glanced sideways at his former teammate. It was past the point in
the run where he would be able to contribute to the conversation. At this
point, Jimmy estimated, they were about five miles into the run.
“The other races, I just got lucky,
honestly. Magness messed up in that 16. That was the hardest race for sure.”
They crossed back over the street, the outline of the school now coming into
focus. “And the 800, if Hadrick doesn’t take out half the field ….” He shrugged
rather than finish his sentence.
They ran the final stretch without
speaking. Jimmy strode along comfortably as Matt struggled to hang on beside
him. When they reached the parking lot, the four-mile group was stretching on
the ground. The sound of the quick turnover of feet on concrete quickly
captured the attention of the young runners who watched in amazement as Jimmy
cruised to a stop a few feet in front of them. Meanwhile, Matt crumbled over,
putting his hands on his knees and gasping for breath.
“You still adding on?” Jimmy said,
realizing his friend’s suffering for the first time. Matt weakly dropped
himself to the ground and laid down on his back.
“Yeah …. I just …. I’m just … Just
give me a second here …” He rolled onto his side and curled slightly into a
ball. Smiling, Jimmy dropped into a squat at Matt’s side and patted him on his
shoulder reassuringly.
“You sweat a lot. You might want to
see a doctor about that.” Jimmy smirked as his old teammate raised a finger to
express his dismay. Springer checked the watch on Matt’s wrist and read a final
time of 36:18 for the 6 mile distance. That was about 6 minutes per mile.
Extending himself back to his full
height, Jimmy checked around the parking lot. “Do you see Coach Ames anywhere?”
He asked, a small note of concern in his voice.
“Little busy down here,” Matt
replied with a slight moan of discomfort.
Jimmy ignored him and began to
wander around the lot. “I know he’s usually late, but kinda seems like this
would be pushing it …” He approached the pack of 4 milers, looking for an older
face among the youth. But he found nothing but high schoolers. “Have any of you
guys seen-”
“Springer!” A strong, deep voice
echoed across the parking lot as a man approached. He wore a dark blue sweat
suit with an orange U and V crested in the upper right corner of the shirt. His
hair was dark brown and he sported a thick brown mustache on his upper lip.
Jimmy recognized him as a teacher from the Union Valley history department.
“Where have you been?!”
“Uh, I’ve been running … who are-”
“I don’t appreciate your behavior,
Springer. I’m sure you had free reign back in the day, but I can assure that I
will be holding a much tighter leash-”
“Back in the-wait, what’s-” Jimmy
could feel blood rushing to his face, a combination of confusion, nervous
energy and anger. In the commotion, Matt had sat up from his position of misery
to follow along. His mouth was hanging slightly agape, a mixture of shock and
fatigue.
“Please don’t interrupt me,
Springer. Just because you’re some hot shot state champion doesn’t mean you can
order around my athletes and skip out on our team’s practices-”
“Your
athletes?”
“Yes, Springer, my athletes! I’m sure you don’t like having a new coach that isn’t
going to be your best buddy, but that’s no reason to stage a coup and have
everyone meet at the tree instead of the track where I was wait-”
“Why would we meet at the track?
This isn’t track practice-”
“DON’T INTERRUPT ME, SPRINGER!” He
pressed his face close to Jimmy’s as the later stood his ground. Matt had
jumped to his feet now and was moving quickly to his friend’s side. “I’m the coach
of the cross country team now, and you will play by my rules!”
Jimmy felt his heart catapult
straight into his throat. “What happened to Coach Ames?” He asked quietly, his
face feeling warm and clammy. He took a step back and turned to look at Matt
who stared back, mirroring his look of confusion. The man opposite him briefly
looked bewildered as well, but then his expression turned to a broad,
mischievous grin.
“He didn’t tell you?” He asked
sinisterly. His voice had lost its booming sense of power and transformed into
a quiet, evil whisper. It was somehow more frightening this way. “Your precious
coach quit, Springer. Probably didn’t want to have to put with some show off,
hot shot-”
But Jimmy was done listening. He had
turned and began walking purposefully toward his friend’s car. “Matt, take me
to Ames’s house.” He said sternly as they walked side by side.
“Jimmy … I know you’re upset but-”
He was practically jogging just to keep pace with Jimmy’s brisk stride.
“Matt, take me to Ames’s house.” A
few other runners were just finishing their five-mile loop, but Jimmy ignored
them, pressing forward.
“Jimmy, wait,” Matt sprinted ahead
to block his friend’s path. “Just listen to me-” They could hear the mustached
man laughing crudely behind them.
“I said, take me-”
“This isn’t about you alright, it’s
not your fault!”
At those words, Jimmy’s eyes flashed
dangerously. He picked up Matt by the shirt and slammed him up against the car
door.
“If you aren’t going to help me,” he
whispered menacingly, “Then you better get the hell out of my way.” And he
turned and sprinted off, spinning just before the first tears left his eyes.
Mark Miller, September 2016
“Nice shirt, loser, did your mom buy
that for you?”
“Are you serious right now? We’re
literally wearing the same shirt …”
“I know … your mom bought it for
me.” Mark rolled his eyes as Ian smiled, apparently very proud of himself.
“Cause like … you know … it’s a ‘your mom’ joke.”
“Explaining it doesn’t make it any
better, Ian.” Mark pulled a book labeled “BIOLOGY” in big, bold letters from
his locker and shut the door. Together, he and Ian turned and walked up the
hallway. Both men were wearing matching gray shirts prominently featuring a
large, dark blue shoe with a pair of wings. This year the cross country team
had decided to wear their official team gear the Friday before each meet to
show unity and pride.
“You know how people think we are in
a cult?” Ian remarked as a pair of students walking in the opposite direction
stared at his and Mark’s matching attire, “I think this is gonna help dispel
the rumors …”
“Just make sure that if we dissect a
frog later, it doesn’t look like we are sacrificing it to the gods or
anything.”
They turned left, approaching
classroom number 215, one of the Biology Labs. Across the hall, walking towards
216, they noticed their friend Tom Winslow who was wearing the same matching
t-shirt.
“What’s up, Tom?” Mark called as the
three stopped briefly to exchange a quick greeting before class. Tom slapped
hands with his friend and looked him up and down.
“Nice shirt, dork, did your mom buy
that for you?”
“We’re wearing the-why is this-it’s
not even funny …” Mark stumbled, looking around as if hoping someone logical
would magically appear to support him.
“I’ll tell you what is funny-”
But before they had a chance to say
anything else, the second bell rang indicating they should be in class.
“See you at practice,” Ian said as
they split off in their separate directions.
Once inside, the duo spotted another
blue winged shoe, donned by their classmate Todd Battle. They hurried to join
him at his lab table as the majority of the class was already full; the
students sitting attentively with their books open, waiting for their teacher
to begin.
“Hey guys,” Todd said with a smile.
“Mrs. Galligan said the lesson starts on page 324.” He already had his book
open and a pencil, highlighter and notebook positioned alongside it.
“Thanks, man” Mark said scrambling
to pull out his materials as their teacher opened up here attendance booklet.
“Todd, don’t you have something to
say to Mark?” Ian muttered, unpacking his own bag, “About his shirt maybe?”
“Oh yeah … um … Nice shirt, Mark …
um … where did you buy it?”
“Dang it, Todd! It’s ‘did your mom
buy that for you’ otherwise it doesn’t make any sense.”
“Sorry, Ian … I’m still not really
sure I get the joke …”
Mark shook his head and smiled, “You
know Ian sometimes you can be a real-”
“Astaire,” Mrs. Galligan called from
the front of the room.
“Here!”
“-although I do respect the effort.”
“Battle”
“Here,” Todd called from his chair.
“If nothing else, I’m committed.
Speaking of which,” Ian pressed on in a hush as Mrs. Galligan continued to
cycle through names, “Who are we recruiting for our 4th lab partner?”
“Fisk”
“Are you sure it’s going to be
groups of four? We have fifteen, so she might try groups of three.”
“Jennings”
“What do you mean? Fifteen isn’t
divisible by three,”
“McPearson”
“Are you serious? How are you in AP
Bio?”
“McPearson?”
“And say, here.”
“Wha-oh … here!”
“Miller”
“Here,” Mark said, turning his
attention back to Ian, ready to mock his math skills. However, he was denied
the chance.
“Oh Mark, I just wanted to pass on a
congratulations!” Mrs. Galligan said cheerfully, “I heard through the grapevine
that Jayson was just accepted into Princeton! You must be so excited!”
“Oh –er- yeah … yeah, it’s great! Super pumped.” Mark said
awkwardly, trying to feign excitement. Why would I be excited? It’s not like I
got into Princeton, he thought with a twinge of annoyance.
“Excellent student. Just so proud …
Anyway, I’ve gotten off track. O’Brien?”
Mrs. Galligan cycled through the
last of attendance (ending with “Washington”) before moving to the projector to
begin the lecture. “Before moving on with our genetics discussion, let’s review
our notes from yesterday on probability. If I toss a coin two times, who can
tell me what the odds are of one flip landing on heads and one on tails?” A few
hands shot eagerly into the air, although Mark’s hung by his side. “Alright,
how about … Kenny?”
“The probability is one fourth or
twenty-five percent.” A boy sitting at the front right said confidently.
“Ah, close, but incorrect. Don’t be
discouraged, you fell for the trap I was setting.” Mrs. Galligan responded with
a smile.
“For a guy named Ken Jennings, you’d
think he’d have a little better luck with these questions,” Mark whispered
quietly, causing Ian to snort audibly.
“Maybe, Mr. McPearson,” Mrs.
Galligan said darkly, turning her attention to Ian’s chair, “Would like to try
next?”
“The probability is one half,” Ian
responded, gathering himself quickly. “The odds of a tail is a half and the
odds of a head is a half so the odds of a tail AND a head would be their
product. However, you could have a tail, then a head OR a head, then a tail. So
that’s the sum of the products, or one half.”
“Well-well, yes, that’s exactly
right.” Recovering, she turned her surprised expression into a smile.
“Excellent work. Now, if we apply this to something more complicated than coin
flipping …”
Kid
can’t divide 15 by 3, but he can do that …
After a seemingly endless block of
diligent note taking, the bell to signal the end of class rang, causing Mrs.
Galligan to jump slightly. The sound incited her class into a flurry of
movement as each student tried to pack up their materials to leave for lunch.
“Time already? Well, class please come prepared for next week’s class with lab
groups of three people! I trust you all to be mature enough to pick your own
groups, but remember these assignments will count for twenty-five percent of
your grade!”
“That was brutal,” Mark said rubbing
his wrist gingerly. “I thought my hand was going to fall off …” He led Ian and
Todd across the hall as they waited outside Room 216 for Tom to exit. He
emerged shortly, pulling his lunch from his backpack and the group joined the
throng of students heading for the stairs. “And what’s with all the statistics
anyway? If science starts to become math, I’m in trouble …”
“The good news: we’ve confirmed lab
groups of three. So we’re all set there. Didn’t want to be paired off with some
random loser.” Ian said happily.
“You guys get to pick your groups?”
Tom replied jealously, opening up a bag of chips. “We get assigned ours.
Keeping my fingers crossed for Sydney Brown.”
“Sydney Brown? She’s in your class?” Ian replied, looking
impressed. “We’ve got some good looking girls in ours, too actually.” He
continued, looking over his shoulder to talk to his friends as he decended the
stairs. “Honestly, I think … um … that … Lebron might be past his prime and if
he loses some of that athleticism who knows really …”
“What the heck-” Mark looked at his
friend in bewilderment, but Ian’s eyes kept darting back over his head,
accented by a small nod. As they hit the bottom of the stairs, Mark turned
around and found himself face to face with an attractive looking girl with dark
brown hair.
“Hi Mark,” she said with a smile.
“Do you have a second?” The girl was Jenna Fisk from their recently finished
Biology class.
“Uh … yeah, sure … what’s up?” Mark
slowed up awkwardly to try and lose his friends who, he noticed, were doing a
poor job hiding the fact that they were intently listening to the conversation
a few feet behind them.
“Well … we need lab groups for next
class … and Carrie and I don’t really know anyone else in Bio … so we were
wondering if maybe you wanted to join our group?”
There was a muffled shout from just
ahead as Mark turned to see Tom dragging Ian up the hallway, covering his
mouth, as the latter’s eyes bulged wildly.
“Yeah, I-I could join up with you
guys,” He refocused on the conversation, “I mean, like, if you need somebody
and stuff.” He worked hard to sound casual.
“Awesome!” She replied, smiling
another distracting smile. She took her phone out from her pocket. “Let me just
text Carrie and tell her.” Mark walked along next to her in awkward silence,
trying to think of something to say.
“So-” he began, but she cut across
him before he could continue.
“So your brother got into Princeton?
That’s pretty cool, right?”
“Uh, yeah, definitely,” Mark said,
feigning excitement once again. “My parents were pretty ecstatic. That’s where
both of them went …”
“Oh wow,” she got noticeably more
excited now, looking up from her phone to face him. “So you must be like … a family of geniuses.”
Their eyes locked for a second as
Mark’s stomach climbed further up into his throat. He tried to muster a laugh,
but he felt it probably came out sounding more like a cough. “Ha, maybe three
out of four, I guess, I don’t think I got that gene … Maybe Todd and I got
switched at birth or something …”
Jenna looked back to her phone, now
hammering furiously on the screen. “Todd? Like Todd Battle?”
“Yeah, he’s like the smartest kid in
our grade I’d say. Without him, I’d probably have failed last-” He caught
himself halfway through his last sentence and stopped awkwardly. Jenna was
basically all but ignoring him now, as she seemed intent on getting a message
to someone quickly. Mark tried to change the subject, but something told him it
might already be too late. “So did you wanna maybe-”
“Oh Mark, I’m really sorry,” she
said in a voice of mock concern, still focusing on her phone. “Carrie just told me she already got us a third
partner for lab. Maybe next time?”
“Yeah … don’t worry about it’s no …”
but she had already turned and walked off to a section of the cafeteria, waving
at a group of friends sitting at a round table in the corner. “Problem.”
Slightly crestfallen, he walked,
head down towards the back of the cafeteria where his friends were sitting
there waiting for him. He slung his backpack weakly from his shoulder and
slumped into his usual chair. Tom was smiling at him, but Ian looked slightly
angry, clearly trying to hold back an outburst. As Mark pulled out his lunch in
silence, Ian finally broke.
“Dude, you better not have bailed on
us, if you picked some girl over your
friends … no, your family … I mean we
had a deal, man!”
“Don’t worry, I’m not going
anywhere,” He said solemnly. Noticing the tone, Ian pulled back quickly. “She
just wanted me in the group because she thought I was a genius like Jayson.” He
looked up with a wry smile and took a bite from his turkey and cheese sandwich.
“Oh … well … cool,” Ian responded
uncomfortably. “Just … um … checking.”
“Checking? More like high sticking
…” Tom muttered, which produced a dry laugh from Mark’s end of the table.
“I’ll tell you something about high
sticking,” Ian said smiling, feeling the mood lighten among the group. He
started a particularly vulgar gesture.
“Um … excuse me.” A girl had
approached the table, as Tom elbowed Ian hard in the chest to signal him to
stop. “I had a question for Todd.”
It was Carrie Washington, the girl
Jenna had mentioned as the other member of her potential group. Mark glanced
back across the room in the direction of her table, making eye contact with
Jenna and forcing both of them to look away from one another awkwardly. Todd,
meanwhile, looked up in a mixture of surprise and confusion. A crumb from his
granola bar was positioned on the corner of his mouth.
“Do you have a lab group yet for
Bio?” she asked. Ian looked positively outraged while Mark looked determinedly
at his now mostly-eaten sandwich.
“Well, yes actually,” Todd
responded, his voice cracking violently. “And I don’t think,” he pressed on,
gaining confidence, “you treated my friend very nicely either.” Mark smiled
appreciatively, but Carrie seemed unconcerned.
“How about you?” She said gesturing
in Ian’s direction, “You got a group yet?”
“Uh … Nope, I’m free if you guys
need someone.” He responded coolly, trying to avoid the glares of his friends.
“Great, I’ll see you Monday,” and
she gave a small, fake smile before turning and leaving, headed back for the
front of the cafeteria.
“What?” Ian now faced his friends
who were all staring in stunned anger. “C’mon, look at those girls …” Slowly,
each of his teammates got up from their seats, “Guys … I’m weak, ok? I’m weak!
Guys!”
“How long are we gonna stay mad at
him?” Tom said quietly to his two friends as they walked toward the lunchroom’s
exit.
“Eh, until it’s not funny anymore,”
Mark replied, “I woulda done the same thing.”
“In fact, you did do the same thing.”
“Nobody likes a know-it-all, Todd.”
Jimmy Springer, cont.
He was just a few minutes away now.
He certainly could have gotten there faster, but he had decided to cut through
woods and backyards to ensure that Matt could not cut him off half way. It was
probably better that he was going alone. Better to push away his best friend.
At least this time he could be the one leaving instead of the other way around.
As he continued through creeks and
shrubs, his mind cycled through a variety of memories … He was a kid, about 9 years old, playing soccer at the playground
behind his middle school. He streaked with the ball, sprinting faster than any
of the players around him and kicking the ball powerfully through the back of
the goal. After scoring, he turned to look at his friends with whom he was
playing, hoping for some time of praise or, at least, comradery.
“You don’t play fair”, one of the other boys had said, “C’mon,
let’s start our own game over here without him.” Jimmy had walked off into a corner, miserable and ashamed. Embarrassed
of his talents and gifts. Shortly after, a man came over, told him how special
his abilities were and encouraged him to join the local running club …
…
It was the summer before his freshman season. He had set out into the hot
afternoon air running. He had needed to get out of the house. Each piece of
bickering was like a small prick to his skin. The feeling of euphoria he
experienced while training was his escape. He lost himself in its tranquility.
Without this sport, he knew he would crumble away, ripped to pieces by his own
doubts and insecurities.
After
a long stretch of peace, he soaked in his surroundings for the first time.
Nothing looked familiar. The calm was replaced suddenly by fear. Scrambling, he
ran down the next street, searching for a main road. He could feel his stomach
grumbling, hunger beginning to set in. Then, by some miracle, he came across a
familiar face biking through the neighborhood. Before long, he’s eating a home
cooked meal with the man and his wife. Smiling. Feeling like a part of a family
again …
…
He was on the track. It was empty with the exception of athlete and coach. The
shouting of splits echoed eerily around the stadium. Darkness was creeping in
as the sun began to set, but Jimmy continued the workout. His coach split his
watch as he crossed the starting line and drooped to his knees.
“That one was 69.2. Close. But I’m
gonna need another repetition.”
“Coach,” Jimmy said his outrage evident even through his shortness of breath, “We’ve
done 20 of these-”
“But not 16 reps at 68. Now get
ready, your rest is ticking down.”
“C’mon the last two have been 69,
isn’t that good enough?”
His
coach smiled. “Of
course, it’s good enough.”
“Well then-”
“Jimmy, you’ve always been good enough. You could have stopped 10
laps ago and you would have been good enough. But I don’t coach my athletes to
just be good enough. And more importantly, you don’t run to just be good
enough. There may not be somebody in this district as good as you or in this
state as good as you, but there is always
someone better. Short of a world record and an Olympic gold, you can always be
better. Like Viren in the Olympics.
“And heck, even Viren ran the 5,000
a few days later.” He looked down at his
watch. “Now get up to the line. You’re getting an extra five seconds of
rest, so this has to be at least a 63.”
His
next rep was his last. 59 seconds …
The familiar house was now just
ahead of him towards the end of the block. As he approached, he could see a man
standing outside, waiting for him. Jimmy slowed to a stop at the edge of the
lawn. Coach Ames stood just ahead of his front steps. The door was open behind
him and Jimmy could make out the outline of Mrs. Ames washing a dish in the
kitchen. Her round belly protruded noticeably as she turned to place the plate
in the drying rack.
Now that he was stopped, he realized
how ragged his breathing was. He panted heavily as he stood across from his
former advisor, who watched him silently from his position. Neither of them
spoke; they simply stared across the grass at one another. Jimmy waited in
frustration for some type of response to his arrival. An apology, an excuse,
anything that he could attack. That would give him the justification to shout
and scream. But he received nothing. Nothing beyond a soft, searching gaze. The
gaze that had followed him in every practice, every workout, and every race.
Finally, he could no longer contain
his emotions and they spilled over. “You’re not even gonna say anything?!
You’re just going to stand there like-like … without the decency to
even-apologize! ” They remained 10 feet from one another, an awkward distance
for a normal conversation. But neither took a step forward.
“Of course I’m sorry,” he replied
gently, “But I don’t think you ran all this way for an apology. You came here
to yell at me. To be angry with me. ” He smiled sadly. “And I’m going to let
you.” Then, he paused, deferring to Jimmy who was at a loss for words. He was
taken-aback by Ames’s passive demeanor. He was expecting an argument. His blood
was boiling and he wanted a fight, not a tacit surrender.
“Why did you do this?! Why are you
abandoning us?! Just leaving?! Without even having the guts to come tell us to
our faces-”
“Certainly you don’t think that was
my choice do you?” Ames asked simply.
“Well I-I …” Jimmy was caught off
guard again, knocked off balance, “I wouldn’t have let it be somebody’s else’s
choice!” He recovered weakly.
“Unfortunately, you’ve always had
more heart than me, Jimmy.” He flashed another sad smile, but he left his
lamentation vague. Again, the conversation lapsed into uncomfortable silence.
Jimmy’s mind continued to race, his anger continuing to hover near its boiling
point. “Do you want to borrow my phone, Jimmy?” the Coach asked, “I’m sure your
parents are worried sick-”
“Ha!” Jimmy exclaimed dramatically,
“My parents?! You think my parents give a damn
about me?!” His head was pounding as his voice continued to elevate. For the
first time, Ames’s calm demeanor began to deteriorate into confusion. It
incited him further, his rage continuing to overflow. “They could care less
about what I’m doing-whether I’m happy! … They’re getting a divorce-Did you
know that? My Dad moved out last week.” He paused to catch his breath. His shouting
was stealing the wind from his already depleted lungs.
“I’m sorry, Jimmy,” Coach Ames said
comfortingly. His wife had made her way to the window, checking in on the
noise. “But this doesn’t mean they love you any less. This is not your f-”
“Fault?” He laughed coldly. “I
thought you might say that. Everyone loves
to say that. Like it wasn’t my fault
with Fisher, it wasn’t my fault with
them and it wasn’t my fault with
you.” He threw his hands forward before letting them fall hopelessly back to
his sides. He could feel the tears charging again, but he fought fiercely to
hold them back.
Coach Ames approached cautiously.
“Come on, Jimmy it’s going to be alright. Let me drive you back home.” But Jimmy
took a big step back, away from his Coach and into the middle of the street. A
car was maybe 40 seconds away, making a left turn onto their street. He
considered it for a second, before turning and dashing off to the opposite
sidewalk.
“You remember how you told me
running could be an escape?” He called, looking back over his shoulder as he
prepped to run again, “Well I’ve escaped. This is my home now.”
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