Chapter
Thirty Two
Jimmy Springer, May 2016
Tired
and disoriented, Jimmy tried to keep his balance. Raising his head, he forced
himself onto the infield, out of the way of the finishers. Here, the man he was
looking for was waiting for him.
“Good
race, Jayson,” He extended a sweaty palm.
The
blonde-haired runner grabbed the outstretched hand. Displaying a pallet of
surprise, disappointment and fatigue, he smiled. “Great job,” he replied. “I
really thought I had you.” He shook his head in amazement, “But it just wasn’t
enough.”
“It
took everything I had, man.” Jimmy wobbled unsteadily as he tried to walk
forward to the water tent. “Sorry-I gotta sit down for a sec.”
“Doesn’t
sound like too bad an idea.” Jayson said, plopping down next to him.
“And the winner,” The field announcer’s
booming voice echoed around the track, “-by
just two tenths of a second-is Jimmy Springer!” The crowd clapped
vigorously as they found out what the two athletes had already known.
“What
was our time?”
“Dunno,
I stopped paying attention after the mile split.” Jayson scratched his head and
looked up at the stands in front of him, scanning for someone he would
recognize. His eyes stopped 10 rows up. Happily, he waved toward a section of
the stands. Jimmy watched him enviously, having long since given up his
spectator search.
After
a brief respite, the large school boys gathered at the medal stand for their
award ceremony. Jimmy stood, waiting behind the podium in his orange and blue
uniform with Miller on one side and a boy from Bonner High School on his other.
They both seemed excited. But Jimmy? He merely felt relieved. Well, relieved
and tired.
“…
Third place, with a time of 9 minutes and
8.64 seconds: Tom Seeley …”
The
crowd applauded appreciatively as the boy in white and green stepped up onto
the wooden awards podium. He beamed as an official placed the bronze medal
around his neck.
“…
Second place, with a time of 9 minutes
and 1.47 seconds, the third fastest performer in state history, Jayson Miller
from Manheim Township …”
Jayson
stepped up the podium as the fans erupted for their local champion. He looked
mildly surprised at the announcement of the time. Pleased, but not quite
content. From just behind him, Jimmy cursed himself quietly in his head. Based
on the announcement after the race, he was merely two tenths of a second ahead
of Jayson’s time. That meant he barely missed the state record for a second
straight week.
“… And in first place, with a time of 9
minutes and 1.29 seconds, the 2nd fastest time in Pennsylvania State
History, for the third straight year, ladies and gentleman, give it up for
Jimmy Springer!”
Jimmy
stepped up onto the podium as the race official strode forward to hang the gold
around his neck. The medal felt heavy as it weighed against his chest.
Mark Miller, May 2016
As
Jayson trudged off the track, with the silver around his neck, Mark rushed
forward, trying to weave through huddled masses of spectators.
“Sorry,”
He called over his shoulder as he bumped into a passerby wearing a maroon
t-shirt. But he didn’t stop. He wanted to get to his brother as quickly as
possible. Hopefully to celebrate achievement rather than lament failure.
It
had been ages since he had even seen Jayson lose a race. Now he was handed
defeat on a stage Mark knew he had dreamed about for years. Heck, he’d even
hung a picture of Jimmy Springer in his room for extra motivation. So to be
edged out of your dream goal by merely two tenths of a second? That had to
sting. No-worse than sting. Much worse. It had to hurt too much to even try and
describe it with conventional language.
“Jayson!”
He called, spotting the tall figure looking around the throng for a familiar
face. His brother turned to face him and presented a broad grin.
“Hey
bro,” He responded extending out his arms. Mark pulled him into a deep embrace.
“Thanks for coming out to watch.”
“Wouldn’t
miss it.” They released one another. Mark stared into his brother’s face,
hoping to discern his emotions. A smile was plastered across its surface, but
it was covering another emotion. He just couldn’t pin point exactly what it
was.
“Jayson!”
“There’s
my boy!”
The
Miller parents, accompanied by Jayson’s girlfriend, Lauren Johnson, emerged
from the horde to greet their sons. His father looked proud and strong, his
mother more sympathetic. Mark could tell she was itching to plant a hug and kiss
on her eldest, but she defaulted to Lauren for first dibs.
“Thanks
for coming out guys,” Jayson said, the same beam on display, “Heck of a race,
huh?” He rotated through his hug obligations. After he and his mother broke
apart, he pulled out his silver medal from his pocket and hung it around her
neck. She wore it with honor, although she looked a tad upset about the amount
of sweat on the string.
“You
did amazing, Jayson! We were all so impressed!” Mrs. Miller remarked, “Such a
great performance.”
“I
don’t know how you do it,” Lauren continued, looking up in awe at her
boyfriend, “Third fastest runner in state history! That’s unbelievable.”
“I
couldn’t have done it without all of your guys support. It really means a lot.”
Jayson looked around at each of their faces, the ends of his mouth drifting
farther down. “I gotta go do a quick cool down before I get too tight,” He
said, beginning to pry himself from his admirers, “But I’ll catch up with you
guys soon and we can talk more about everything.” He turned to leave.
“You
want some company?” Mark asked, removing his draw string bag from his
shoulders. “If you give me a sec, I can throw on some shoes.”
“Yeah,
sure. That’d be great.” He waited patiently as Mark hurriedly changed. “Never
as much fun to run alone.”
Jimmy Springer, cont.
Jimmy
trudged off the track with his spikes hoisted over his shoulder. He spared a
brief glance up at the stands. As expected, the person he was looking for was
not there. Inwardly, he scolded himself for even getting his hopes up. You should know better by now. Head
down, he tried to skirt off back toward the dormitories.
“Jimmy!”
A voice called back over his shoulder. He turned eagerly around, looking for
the source of the shout. To his disappointment, he spotted a tall, bearded man
walking toward him, accompanied by a younger boy with a small video camera. It
was Dan Richardson, the head administrator for local website VaniaRunning.com.
The site covered all of the Pennsylvania Track and Field action, posting
results, articles and video interviews. After years of signature victories,
Jimmy was no stranger to the last of these items.
“Hey
Dan, how’s it going?” Jimmy asked, removing himself from the throng of fans and
waiting in an open area for the pair of writers.
“Do
you mind if we steal you for a quick interview?” Dan asked, having reached his
target.
“Nah,
go for it.” He stared into the camera lens as it stared back unblinkingly. A
small light flashed on.
“We’re
here with Jimmy Springer of Union Valley High School, this year’s state
champion in the 3200 with the second fastest time in state history. Congrats,
Jimmy.” The interviewer stuck a small microphone under his nose.
“Thanks,
Dan. I appreciate it.” He responded lazily, shifting his weight from one leg to
the other.
“Now
Jimmy, looks like you went out pretty fast in this one-especially compared to
last week. Just walk me through the strategy and how you feel the execution
went.”
“Sure-yeah-I
really just wanted to give myself a shot at the state record. You know, unlike
last week. And-uh-I guess I got a little too excited.” He kept his arms
uncomfortably behind his back, unsure what to do with them as he continued to
respond to questions.
“Now
when Miller went by you on the last lap, what was going through your mind?”
“Well,
I think something like ‘I’m really tired’,” he laughed dryly, but Dan’s focused
expression did not break. It rattled him slightly, as he wiped the smile from
his face. “But-uh-I don’t know. I just knew I had to hang on as best I could.
Hurt pretty bad, but I really didn’t want to lose.”
“It
was certainly one heck of a race. And, of course, next fall we could see
another one since you and Jayson Miller will both be returning as seniors. You
think you guys can push each other to that Hershey course record?”
“Um
… we’ll see, I guess. You know, a lot can happen between now and then.” He
paused. There was something he felt compelled to say. Something he had been
considering for the past month. “Honestly, I’m not positive I’ll be racing
again next year.”
Richardson’s
jaw dropped. “Wait-not racing?”
“I’m
just tired,” he pressed on, the words now tumbling forth with ease. “I put a
lot of pressure on myself-whether it’s practice or competitions-and I’m just sort
of burnt out.”
“But-but,”
his interviewer stumbled, trying to regain his professionalism after being
blindsided by the news, “You’re number two all-time in state history-for two
events. Don’t you want to take one more-”
“Yeah,
you see, that’s the problem. It sounds great to be second all time. But
finishing second sucks. And every time I come up just short like today, it’s a
real punch in the gut.
“Those
records are records for a reason, you know? I may not be good enough to break
them. People treat me like-like a super hero or something … but I’m just a normal
kid. So when I fall short of the heroic, it just hurts worse. Sometimes the
reality of those moments-coming up short like that-I don’t know, it’s just …
heavy. And I’m getting tired of carrying it around.”
I’ve lost a lot away
from the track. Losing on it might just be the straw that breaks the camel’s
back.
“Keep
up the good work, Dan.” And he turned away from the camera’s piercing gaze,
plunging himself into solitude once more.
Mark Miller, cont.
“OK,
it’s just you and me now,” Mark said as he and his brother strode around an
empty baseball diamond. “How are you feeling?”
“I’m
actually doing alright.”
“C’mon
Jay, don’t give me that bull sh-”
“No,
seriously. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’m miserable. It sucks to be that close
and come up short. But, it’s weird. I kinda thought it would hurt a lot worse.”
“Maybe
the reality hasn’t sunk in yet? That’s happened to you before. Like remember
when we lost that basketball tournament in Ephrata? You were fine all the way
through pizza dinner and then on the car ride home …”
Jayson
chuckled. “I cried like a broken sprinkler. Yeah, that was a rough one.” He
smiled wryly. They circled past third base and off toward a football field in
the opposite direction of the track. Mark felt a rock skip up into his poorly
tied shoes.
“Still,
I feel like that’s not it.” The oldest brother continued. “It’s more like …
remember the time we met Joe Flacco on vacation a couple years ago?”
“Yeah
of course. He was actually really nice. Autographed my bathing suit for me.”
“Exactly!
Yet all this time we were hyping him up as this villain who used to knock the
Steelers out of the playoffs. So we just hated
him. We wanted nothing more than to beat him. But when we met him and he went
back to being a normal person, it made the idea of hating him seem pretty
silly. It wasn’t him we wanted to beat so much as the idea of him. What he represents.”
The
rock continued to bounce around inside Mark’s shoe, but he tried his best to
ignore it. “So what does the quarterback of the Ravens have to do with the two
mile?”
“Last
year at states, I reached out my hand to Jimmy Springer-just to say good luck
before the race, you know-and he ignored me. I thought he was a jerk. Then,
watching him win all those races, doing post-race interviews, I got it in my
head that he was not only a jerk, but a huge show off too. I wanted nothing
more than to go out and put him in his place.” They finished the perimeter of
the football field. “I trained like a madman with the sole focus of doing just
that.
“But
today, when I met him … well … he knew my name.”
“Knew
your name?” Mark responded puzzled.
“Yeah-for
whatever reason, that really struck me. He’s just another kid. Training, racing
… winning. And this whole time, I’ve been training against the ‘idea’ of Jimmy
Springer. This great, powerful villain. But today, he was racing just another
kid. So of course he had the edge.” Together the two slowed to a stop as they
reached the gate that bordered the track. “Next time, though, I’ll be racing
just another kid, too.”
Mark
raised his arm and pulled his brother to his side. “Great race out there, bro.
I’m really proud of what you’ve accomplished today.”
“Thanks,”
Jayson said, squeezing Mark’s waist slightly before stooping down to the ground
and untying his shoes. “I guess second best isn’t the worst thing in the world,
right?”
The
youngest Miller joined the eldest on the pavement. “As long as there’s more
than two of you,” he smirked.
Jayson smiled back before removing his right shoe and
shaking it out upside-down. A small rock fell from the heel and danced briefly
across the concrete below. Mark watched it move until it came to rest. Then he
slipped off his own shoe and copied his brother.
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