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. “Wait, 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 down 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 assembly, 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, three second space 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.” He 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 that isn’t even that much honestly. Relative to a lot of
schools. 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 over the summer. 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. He just didn’t want any extra pressure
on me.” 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. By now Jimmy estimated, they were over 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 with his fall …” 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, fully 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.
He
pulled back his hand just after touching him. “You sweat a lot. You might want
to see a doctor about that.” Jimmy smirked as his old teammate raised a single
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 besides
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 the idea of 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 latter
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 up 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
her 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 responded 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 corner 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
descended 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, subtle 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 carefully
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 was 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 cut
across 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-sure-don’t
worry about it, 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 uncomfortably. Todd, meanwhile, looked up in a mixture of surprise
and confusion. A crumb from his granola bar hung delicately 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 type 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 running into the hot afternoon air.
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 was 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 by the smooth
counter. “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 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 road. 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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