INSTALLMENT TWELVE: THE FATHER CONTRACT
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Chapter Twenty-Six: Heart, Desire, and Sportsmanship
PJ sent a long e-mail to
Jack describing his trip to
". . . See, Travis turned out to be a good pal just like you said. I can't wait for the championships so I can see him again. I hope he wins the breaststroke. Erik and I will help him all we can. Erik wants me to email Travis to ask if he can be his younger brother, also. When we went to Independance Hall Travis told me all kinds of stories and facts about it. He knew more than the guide. He is an expert. I am interested in American history now, also. Travis says that there were boys like him and me and Erik in the Revolutionary Army. I am going to the library to find some books on it. Travis said that the team we are against in the meet your coming to see is plenty tough, it is Foxton School and they have the best butterflier in the East. He is 13 and big, and I guess I won't beat him, but maybe I can get 2nd or 3rd. Be sure to cheer loud for me, I'll need it. Write back soon, Jack, and tell me what you're doing. Please say hi to Charley for me. Your friend PJ."
PJ also e-mailed Travis a thank-you note for the fun they had together. In it he said,
"Erik told me that he and I are just like twin brothers, so he wants to know if you will also be his older brother. You would like him lots. He is looking forward to seeing you for the championships and will be our manager during the meet."
Travis' answer came right back:
"Hi PJ and Erik! Tell Erik I definitately want to be his older brother. Twin younger brothers are twice as good. I can't believe how lucky I am. My coach and I talk about you all the time. My coach thinks you have a good chance of making the finals in the championships, so don't give up on your goal. I am working out hard every day to make my goal and we both hope you will do the same. When I come to stay with you, we can psych up for our races together and try to help each other. I know we can do it! Keep e-mailing and I will do the same. Erik, how is your basketball? E-mail and let me know. All the best to my two little bro's – Good luck against Foxton - Travis. PS, I had to look psych up in the dictionary because I didn't know how to spell it."
Over the next few weeks, PJ and Erik had lots of things to put in their e-mails to Jack and Travis. Classes, sports practices, reading, science projects--plus all their other activities. Each day was an adventure. Erik had two more basketball games, and then it snowed again so the boys had the snowboard out on the Hill every chance they got. They also brought Billy over for another day of sledding.
Then PJ got an e-mail from Jack,
sent from
"Spring Training starts soon and the Red Sox have been signing some terrific young players. More on that when I see you. I met your favorite author at dinner last night. Matt Christopher, the guy who writes those sports books you like so much. Matt was very happy you enjoy his books. I will be bringing a surprise for you and Erik when I come to your swimming meet. Until then, Jack."
"Oh boy!" shouted PJ to his roommate, who was standing right beside him. "Jack's bringing us surprises! How `bout that!"
"I think it's exciting every time Jack comes to visit," Erik said with delight. "PJ, he's just the greatest!"
"Yeah. He sure is!" PJ answered.
"But what's Jack doing
way out in
"Giving more speeches or something, I guess," PJ said.
The Thursday of PJ's meet finally arrived, bringing with it the kind of clear, cold weather that made PJ happy because he wanted to take Jack stargazing afterwards, and it looked like it was going to be a good night for it.
Right after classes ended, he hustled to his room, dropped off his books, and grabbed his swim gear. Erik had already left for the pool to hold seats for Jack as well as Mr. Thatcher, who'd said he was bringing Billy to see them swim.
PJ was really getting jittery. They were going up against a tough squad with the best butterflyer in the Middle School league! He hoped he could do something that would help his team win so he stood in front of his Jack Canon poster and stared at it. "Anything's possible," he whispered. He felt better just saying it. "Anything's possible!"
As PJ came up the snowy sidewalks toward the Field House, he was elated to see Jack and two other men standing on the steps in a crowd of people. His nervousness turned to joy! Jack hadn't let him down! His hero was smiling and signing autographs, some people were taking his picture, and there was little Billy, waiting off to one side with his dad.
"PJ!" Billy cried. He came running down the steps to meet him.
"Hi Billy," PJ said, giving the smaller boy a hug.
"Here he is," PJ heard Jack say. He looked up to see Jack coming through the crowd with his big grin.
"Hi ya, PJ!" Jack took PJ's hand. "You all ready to go get 'em today?"
PJ beamed up proudly. "Yeah, Jack." Just hearing Jack's voice made him feel good! All around them people were staring and PJ hoped every single one knew Jack Canon was there to see him!
"Hello, PJ. I've heard a lot about you." There was an older man standing next to Jack holding out a hand. PJ took it and looked at Jack questioningly.
"PJ," Jack said with a grin, "meet a guy who's been covering baseball since Abner Doubleday played it. Lots of people think of him as the Dean of American sportswriters. Abe Gerstein."
"Don't listen to this character, PJ," the man said, smiling. "I just hack out words for the Associated Press."
"I'm very glad to meet you, Mr. Gerstein," PJ told him.
"And this fellow here," Jack said, indicating his second companion, a young man on the other side of him, "is your local sports-scoop artist from the hometown paper. Charlie Bunker."
"Hi, PJ," Charlie said with a grin, extending his own hand."Hi, Mr. Bunker." PJ shook with him, grinning back. "I've seen you at some of our varsity football games."
"That's me," the sportswriter told him. "PJ, I'm never going to forgive you guys for letting Jack Canon visit all these times without telling me." He smiled as he said this to show he was just kidding, but PJ felt a stab of fear. Would there always be reporters now? Asking questions whenever Jack visited? He looked down, pretending to be embarrassed, but actually to hide his disquiet.
"Well . . . see, Jack only comes to visit me once in awhile. We like to keep it quiet when he does."
"How did you and Jack get to know each other, PJ?" Mr. Gerstein asked.
Jack held up his hand. "PJ, you should get changed and warmed up. Why don't you go ahead. I'll take care of a few more customers here and meet you inside."
"Okay," PJ told him, relieved that he could ignore the reporter's question. He indicated the small boy at his side. "Billy and his dad are here. Erik's holding seats for all of you. You better not take too long. It'll be a big crowd."
"Don't worry, Tiger." Jack looked around, gestured for Bill's dad to join him, and gave PJ a pat on the shoulder. "You get in there and get ready." PJ nodded and beckoned to Billy. "Come on," he told the little boy. "You can come in with me through the locker room."
Billy looked thrilled. His dad smiled, nodded, and the youngster followed PJ eagerly up the steps, in through the big Field House doors. PJ took him down the stairs under the stands to the team locker area where he chatted with the younger boy while changing into his team Speedo and sweat suit. When they went out onto the pool deck, PJ led him over to where Erik was. "Here you go, Billy." PJ boosted him up so he could get over the pool retaining wall and through the railing into the stands. "Jack's out front signing autographs," PJ told Erik. "Billy's dad's with him. When they get here, tell Jack I'm swimming fly on the relay and in the individual event. Then I might be in the hundred free. Coach isn't sure yet."
"Okay." Erik circled the events on his list. "I got it."
"Listen," PJ warned him, "there's some reporters with Jack, so watch what you say."
Erik's eyes went wide. "Reporters! Wow!"
"Yeah. But be careful. They might ask a lot of questions."
Erik made a mouth zipping motion. "Me big dummy."
"Stay with Erik, Billy." PJ touched fists with the boy and turned away to find a lane where he could warm up.
He took his time getting loose. The medley relay was the first event. Gordonsville had to take at least one of the two relay events to have a chance of winning the meet. And his fly leg on the relay might be his most important race! PJ wanted to be sure he was ready for a maximum effort. Plus, since he might also be doing a freestyle event, he practiced turns at both ends of the pool, checking and double-checking the marks he used to gauge his approach to the wall. Today, he was not leaving anything to chance!
As he warmed up, he kept glancing over at the stands to see if Jack had come in yet. He wished those nosy reporters would stop following Jack around! It was scary when they started asking a lot of questions. He hoped they wouldn't mess up any of the things he wanted to do with Jack afterwards.
While waiting, PJ looked around to see if he could spot Foxton's star butterflyer, a boy named Brad, and found him almost immediately warming up in one of the far lanes. There was no mistaking who he was! The kid had a fast stroke with the effortless glide and powerful kick that all really good flyers had. It looked like his freestyle was pretty fast too. And when he stood up in the water, PJ could see he had a husky build and looked older than his thirteen years. PJ gulped a little. This guy's tough! I hope he's not doing the fly in my relay!
Then PJ scolded himself. That isn't the right way to think! What would Jack or Travis say if they heard that! So the kid's big. I'm good too! Anything's possible!
He got out of the pool, dried off, and put on his sweats, waiting patiently for his event to be called. Jack was still not in his seat.
PJ's coach, Mr. Bernard, came over to talk to him. "We've got to win this first relay, PJ! Give your leg everything you've got!"
"I will, Coach," PJ promised. Then whistles were blowing and the officials were clearing the pool of other swimmers. When the medley relay was announced, PJ kept an eye on the Foxton team as he went up to the blocks, watching to see if the ace flyer was taking off his sweats, getting ready.
He wasn't! PJ clenched his fists, feeling adrenaline surge through him. Some other boy was doing fly on the relay! He had a chance!
The teams lined up behind the starting blocks, while PJ tried unsuccessfully to identify which of the four Foxton swimmers was the flyer. Never mind who it is, he told himself. Just beat him! The other swimmers stared back at him curiously. He knew he was the shortest and youngest on his own team. Those guys are wondering why a little kid's out here, he thought.
At that moment there was a stir in the crowd and PJ looked up. Jack, Mr. Thatcher, and the reporters were coming down the steps to where Erik was holding their seats. PJ saw people in the stands and swimmers among the Foxton team stand up and point as Jack sat down. Erik immediately began urgently talking to him, handing over the stopwatch and then pointing to the list of events. PJ saw Jack nod. The two reporters crowded in and Mr. Gerstein asked Erik something. Erik showed him the event list, talked for awhile, and the two reporters' heads kept nodding. Little Billy was telling his dad something and pointing at PJ. The starter blew his whistle and told the backstrokers to get into the water for their start. There was a hush as he called for quiet. Then the gun sounded and the relay event was under way!
Mark, the Gordonsville backstroker, went stroke for stroke with his Foxton competitor on the two laps of their leg. The teams were even as their breaststrokers took off. PJ knew that Gordonsville's Jeffrey was not that good, and as he feared, the boy lost ground, falling half a body-length behind coming back on the second lap. Come on! Come on!, he thought, willing his teammate to get to the wall. His turn was up next!
As he climbed up on his block, he took a quick glance to his right at the Foxton flyer. He sure is big. Maybe he's not their ace, but he's still gonna be tough. There was noise now, people cheering and calling encouragement, both from the stands and from the other side of the pool where both teams were sitting. But PJ barely heard it. Adjusting his goggles, he got ready, all his competitive instincts aroused. He dropped into a crouch, straining forward; every muscle in his taut slender body tensed like a coiled spring.
The Foxton flyer launched off his block in a racing dive. PJ's mind focused on only one thought: Catch that kid in front of me or die trying! As Jeffrey touched the wall, PJ exploded off his own block a half body-length behind. He powered to the surface with a mighty kick and immediately began to thunder down the first lap with long, driving strokes, surging through the water like a small speedboat. He swam without a single breath, not wanting to spoil the perfect body position he held on the water's surface. Concentrating on driving forward with powerful kicks, forcing his arms to rotate to their fastest rhythm, he could already feel the swimmer in the lane next to him and knew he was gaining. The realization spurred him to stroke harder, straining every muscle for maximum thrust!
At the far wall he hit his turn perfectly, fully extended. Snapping his body around, he caught a quick breath, his first in the race. He was now even with the other boy! He pushed off the wall with tremendous force, powered to the surface with another strong kick, and again surged forward. Now go past him!
Using all the stamina and strength developed by hours and hours of training, PJ went into the second lap even harder than the first. Back and shoulder muscles coiling and uncoiling like a machine, his entire little body undulating in a powerful dolphin kick, PJ took only a single breath the entire second lap as well, driving harder and harder toward the finish. For the last six strokes, he put his head down and gave everything he had for a mighty finishing sprint! As his hands slapped the wall, Trent, the Gordonsville freestyler, took off. PJ pulled his head up and looked. The Foxton flyer was just now finishing! He'd given his team a full body-length lead!
The air around him was thundering with noise. They were chanting his name! "Pee-Jay!, Pee-Jay!, Pee-Jay!, Pee-Jay!. . ."
He looked over at the stands. Everyone was on their feet. Billy and Erik were cheering wildly and waving. Jack, with a big grin on his face, was saying something to the reporters. PJ lifted his fist into the air in a victory salute, the crowd's chanting roaring in his ears. "Pee-Jay!, Pee-Jay!, Pee-Jay!, Pee-Jay!"
Mark offered a hand and PJ
scrambled up out of the water, turning to watch the finish of the race.
PJ and teammates went to shake hands with the other relay team, but when PJ said, "Nice race" to his butterfly opponent and offered a hand, the older boy scowled, growling, "You just got fuckin' lucky, Peewee."
PJ didn't answer. Instead, he grabbed his towel and ran over to see Jack. Billy was bouncing excitedly on the rail yelling, "PJ! PJ! You won! You beat everybody!" With a grin, PJ high-fived him and turned to Erik and Jack. "Did I do a good time?"
Jack smiled down. "Erik says it's your best." Next to him, Erik held up the stopwatch for PJ to see. "T-terrific, PJ!" He was stammering with excitement. "Another best time! If you go any faster, the water's gonna start smokin'!"
"Did you see it, Jack?" PJ said, grinning delightedly, all the more so because the Foxton swimmer had been such a jerk. "That other kid was older than me an' I beat him!"
"Oh yeah, PJ," Jack chuckled. "I saw it. Don't worry. I think a few other people saw it, too. You sorta' brought this crowd to its feet."
"Everyone was cheering for you, PJ," Billy crowed.
Jack leaned over so he could talk to PJ without anyone else hearing. "You were great, PJ. My little champion. You know how I feel about you!" PJ just stared, eyes shining. He loved being praised by Jack! The words filled him with joy. There can't be anything better than this!
Jack gave his head a pat. "Now go rest up for that butterfly race. I think you can count on seeing that kid you beat, plus that hot-shot ace of theirs. That first boy will be out to get even, so watch out!" In a daze, PJ nodded and, holding his towel, made his way back to his seat. He felt great! Jack was proud of him! He couldn't wait to get into his next race and try to do well again. He put on his sweat suit and sat down to rest, but he was too keyed up to remain sitting for very long. He got up several times to cheer for his teammates, some of who were getting beat in their own races. He realized that Travis had been right. This was going to be a very close meet!
By the time his second event was called, the 100-yard butterfly, PJ was so fired up and anxious to rejoin the competition, it was almost a relief to hurry up to the starting blocks. In this race, he was entered as Gordonsville's second swimmer with Blake, who was a year older and had a faster recorded time, taking the lead spot in one of the center lanes. Then PJ's heart started beating like the roll of a snare drum. Sure enough, Brad was going to race. Brad, the best Middle School flyer in the east! And with him was coming the other big boy, the one from the relay! The Foxton coach was saying something to him, and the kid was nodding, staring at PJ with a smug expression on his face. That coach told him to beat me and get revenge! PJ thought grimly. We'll see about that.
He resolved to try and stay as close as he could to Brad for the first two laps, then take it from there. Once again, his concentration was focused so intensely that he was unaware of anything except the lane stretching out in front of him and the voice of the starter. There was absolute silence in the huge arena as the starter held his gun in the air. They took their marks. Then the gun sounded!
PJ launched far out over the water in a flat, racing dive. He gave a tremendous kick to force his muscular little body up onto the surface and began to surge forward with long, powerful strokes, his graceful form flying over the water. He took out the first two laps as hard as he could, knowing he had the stamina to put two more right on top of them! Holding nothing back, he forced his arms and legs into their fastest pace. When he took a breath, he saw out of the corner of his eye that Brad was ahead, but not by too much. I'm staying close! he thought.
At the turn, as he took another quick breath and whirled around, PJ discovered he was half a stroke ahead of both Blake and the second Foxton swimmer. Energy shot through him! Ahead of Blake in the fly! For the first time! In a fierce competitive rush, all he could think was, If I'm ahead now, no Middle School kid in the world can catch me!
PJ pushed off into the third lap with tremendous self-assurance. Although the grueling demands of the most difficult stroke in swimming were taking a toll on his arms and shoulders, he threw off fatigue without conscious awareness. Months of tough training allowed him to impose his will on his tough little body. He raced down the lap, stroking with tremendous power. Blake and the second Foxton flyer were trying desperately to stay with him, and they were bigger, with longer reach and more strength. But they lacked PJ's stamina and heart. He was pulling away, surging over the water in strokes so graceful they seemed effortless.
Into the fourth lap they went! Brad had slightly increased his lead, but PJ was still determined to stay as close as he could! Spurring his tiring body to even greater effort, he sprinted hard toward the wall and put on a mighty finishing kick. He hit the touch pad hard, fully extended, and pulled his head up quickly to check the electronic scoreboard. Second place! It was lit up next to his lane designator. He hadn't won, but it was another best! He had just swum his race two full second faster than he ever had before! And he'd beaten Blake! Blake was finishing third! And they'd both beaten the jerk, the other team's second flyer!
PJ was very tired, his arms and shoulders dead. Still, he pulled himself out of the water feeling wonderful! He became aware that his teammates and the crowd were all on their feet cheering. He went to give Blake a hand climbing out and told the older boy happily, "We did it! Second and third! Brad's first place won't help them much!"
"Nice race, PJ," Blake replied, shaking hands. He was polite, just as he'd been after the IM in Philadelphia, but PJ was certain he wasn't at all pleased about getting beaten a second time. The boys from the other team, however, were a completely different matter. They refused to shake. They didn't even look at the Gordonsville swimmers. Instead, they turned their backs and shuffled back to where their coach stood waiting. PJ saw him yelling at the boy he'd beaten.
Still half breathless from
his race, PJ trotted excitedly over to his friends in the stands. "My best time, Jack! I knew I could do it! When
I swam that race in
"Great race, PJ!" Jack motioned for Erik to lean down with him so he could talk to both boys without being overheard. "That's the first time you've beaten that older kid from your team, isn't it?"
PJ shook his head.
"Travis and I beat Blake in the IM in
Jack grabbed PJ by the shoulder. "Remember what I told you and Erik," he said seriously. "Don't ever be ashamed to win! Not in swimming, basketball or anything else! If that boy has any heart, PJ, he'll respect you for your sportsmanship. He'll resolve to work harder! He's bigger and stronger than you. There's no reason he shouldn't have beaten you! But you outlasted him. You beat him with stamina and guts. You've probably trained harder. But that's his problem. You let him worry about it. You just concentrate on your own improvement and keep working toward your goals. You're doing great. Don't ever look back, worrying about the people behind you. You just worry about you!"
Eyes boring into PJ's, Jack lowered his voice and went on, "Never say die, kiddo! Never let up, never ever let up, and never look back. That's for losers. Erik plays it that way in basketball, and that's how you swam today. Never say die. And anything's possible!"
PJ and Erik nodded. They had been staring at Jack with rapt attention, eyes wide.
"What about those boys not shaking hands with you?" Jack asked.
"Pretty bad sports," Erik said. "Not even the big kid that beat PJ shook hands."
"Excuse me for using a bad word, Jack," added PJ,"--but he was really pissed!"
"Right," Jack told him. "And it made them look childish. Don't ever forget that. If you guys lose, lose gracefully. If you whine or pout, it makes you look childish and it makes the guys who beat you look more mature. Don't ever give them that advantage! Take any loss like a man; smile, congratulate--and then go back to practice and work harder. Right?"
Both boys nodded. PJ's eyes were shining. He loved it when Jack talked like this! Everything he said seemed so right!
"What do you swim next?" Jack asked.
"Maybe the hundred free," PJ replied. "Whatever Coach says."
"Okay," Jack nodded. "You better get back with your team. Don't forget to cheer for your teammates. Give them lots of encouragement. Be a leader!"
"Go for broke, PJ!" Erik called. Broke? PJ felt like a zillion dollars!
Chapter Twenty-Seven: Star-Gazing
PJ hurried back to the other side of the pool. He was in a glow of excitement after talking to Jack. It always made him feel so good.
The score of the meet remained close, the lead changing back and forth, with Gordonsville and Foxton exchanging the advantage. Then came the 50-yard freestyle. PJ and all his teammates were up on the side of the pool, yelling themselves hoarse, twirling towels, as Randy, their unofficial captain, touched the wall in first place, Trent right behind him in second, and both of them acing the Foxton sprinters who finished third and fourth! Gordonsville jumped back into the lead--and one event later Gordonsville's two divers pulled off yet another one-two sweep, making the lead even bigger!
When the 100-yard freestyle was announced, PJ guessed it might be his turn and started pulling off his sweats to get ready. But his name wasn't called. Instead, the call was for Trent, who once again went up with Randy to swim the race. Randy was one of the fastest freestyle sprinters in the Eastern Prep League. He was surely going to win this event, just as he had the earlier 50-yard. Trent, who'd just turned thirteen, had already proven that he was almost as fast as Randy. But Foxton had good twelve and thirteen-year-old sprinters as well. PJ knew that if he swam the 100-yard with these older boys, the best he could hope for was a third-place finish, and maybe even a last. But if Randy and Trent could again sweep the top two places, the points advantage for Gordonsville would be. . .
PJ caught his breath and
made rapid calculations in his head: if Randy and Trent swept the 100 free, and
Mark won the backstroke, as he should, easily, then, even if Brad swam the IM
for Foxton and won . . . Foxton
would still be too far behind to catch up! Even if they won the final
event, the freestyle relay, its seven points wouldn't be enough. Coach
Bernard's strategy was clear. Using
There was risk involved, of course. This 100-yard free, the 200 IM, the 100-yard backstroke--all of their winners were still to be decided. If something went wrong and it came down to the last race. . .
But we can do it! PJ thought to himself. Let's do this thing!
He
got up with the rest of the team to stand and cheer for Randy and Trent. "Go,
Randy! Go,
The starter called for quiet and PJ glanced up into the stands where Jack, the two reporters, Billy, and Billy's dad were all leaning in around Erik, who was whispering to them and gesturing excitedly. Erik knows what's going on, thought PJ. He's explaining it right now.
The starter raised his gun and called for the swimmers to take their marks. Then with an ear-ringing blast, the race began!
It
was tremendously close, way closer than PJ would have liked. All four swimmers
dove off their blocks in perfect form and sprinted down the opening lap,
hitting the first turn dead even. By the end of the second lap, Randy had
established a tiny lead, though Trent and the two Foxton
boys were still neck-in-neck. The three of them flipped into the second turn
and powered through the third lap, every stroke so identical that it was as if
they were magically synchronized.
"Go,
There was a shattering crescendo of sound as Randy finished. A red "1" appeared
next to his scoreboard lane number. Another huge roar greeted
With a huge grin, Randy hoisted himself out of the water, smiling broadly, looking almost fresh, a dripping fresh, despite having just finished what PJ knew had been an all-out, grueling effort. He's acting, PJ thought. Setting an example. That's leadership! Leadership!
Randy hurried over to
PJ's heart was bursting with pride. He and the rest of the team mobbed Randy and Trent while Coach Bernard kept yelling, "Your best times ever, you two! Your best times!
When things had calmed down a bit, PJ glanced back over at the stands. Erik was grinning and holding up a fist in his own salute, and PJ pumped a fist in return before going to sit down with his team. The anticipation of winning the entire meet was sweet. Foxton, so cocky coming in, was on the verge of being shut out. Nor was poor sportsmanship helping their cause. PJ grinned to himself. He had done his share! His butterfly leg had helped win the medley relay, and he'd won points for his team in the 100-yard fly, too. Part of the Gordonsville victory would be his! They were on a roll now. Mark would win the backstroke, Blake place in the IM, and the win would be a lock. Jack would be proud of him, and after dinner they would go to the Hill for some stargazing. And it'll be just me and Jack, he mused. The way it's supposed to be. . . . He lost himself in happy contemplation while the backstroke event was starting--but a sudden cry of dismay from the boy next to him jerked him back to reality! It was Jeffrey, who gasped, "He missed the wall!"
PJ stared at the swimmers. In one of the lanes, Mark, who'd obviously been leading the race, was floundering around in a circle, having failed to touch the wall before turning. Precious seconds ticked off as he went back to make contact--too much time for him to make up. Instead of dominating the event as expected, the best Mark could do was a second place. Coach Bernard's strategy had been based on Mark's winning. Suddenly Foxton Prep was back within striking distance!
When Mark rejoined his teammates after the race, PJ joined the others in trying to cheer him up. "It's okay," he told the dejected boy. "Anyone can mess up a turn." But all Mark could do was shake his head miserably and say, "I've hit that turn a thousand times in practice. Why'd I have to miss it today!"
With a glance at the scoreboard, PJ went through a few more calculations in his head. Could Gordonsville somehow make up points in the 200-yard individual medley? Blake was supposed to swim it. PJ looked over at Coach Bernard, hoping to get the nod as well. If Brad didn't swim the event for Foxton--maybe somehow he and Blake could. . . . But Brad was swimming. He saw the ace flyer going to the blocks with another Foxton boy. Instead of sending PJ up with Blake, the coach instead selected Jeffrey.
PJ looked on in dismay as, despite all of his cheerleading, Brad won for Foxton. Blake took second, and Jeffrey came in last. With a sinking heart, PJ stood with Trent, the two of them staring up at the scoreboard as the numbers changed totals. Even if he and Blake had gotten second and third, it would have made little difference. Foxton would still have been ahead by one point. As it was, though, they were now ahead by three!
"PJ,"
Nothing was going to change
those numbers on the scoreboard. The meet would now be decided by the last
race, the four-man, 200-yard freestyle relay. Seven points to the winner,
nothing for the loser! Foxton had saved Brad and
three other fast freestylers for that relay, and
originally Gordonsville had saved their best, too. But with Coach Bernard's
change in strategy,
Someone tapped PJ on the shoulder. Randy, Trent, Davis, and Blake were gathered around Coach Bernard, who was gesturing for PJ to join them!
Maybe?
"Guys," Mr. B. said when PJ had come over, "my strategy backfired, and now this relay's the whole meet. We've got to win it." He looked at PJ. "Think you're up to it, Son? I can substitute someone else if you think I should."
No way! With a fierce surge of competitive instinct, PJ stared into his coach's eyes. "I can do it, Coach."
"Coach," Randy said, "if PJ can't do it, nobody can. He's the best younger swimmer we've got." PJ was thrilled to hear those words from his captain.
They all put a hand into the center. "Let's do it!" Randy exclaimed.
As PJ, Randy, Davis, and Blake went to the blocks, there were cheers of encouragement from their teammates and the crowd. PJ knew he was the youngest and that he must look small next to the other boys, but his heart was bursting with pride. I'm swimming anchor leg on the relay that will decide the meet! It was a tremendous honor and he was tense with the excitement of it! Looking over to the stands, he saw Erik talking and pointing at a paper in his hand while Jack, the two reporters, Billy, and his dad all listened. Abe Gerstein must have asked a question because he saw Erik say something to him to which the elderly AP man nodded.
PJ shook his arms to ease the tension. Stay loose! Don't tighten up! Jack got nervous too when the game was on the line. He'd said so! But he stepped into the batter's box, wearing that confident grin, always determined to do his very best!
Never say die! Jack's new words rang in his ears.
The Foxton relayers were coming up now. They looked big! Never mind that! PJ told himself, but he couldn't help noticing Brad! The tall, solid boy pulled off his Foxton sweat shirt, stretched his arms, and looked right at PJ with a sarcastic smile.
The starter called for quiet and the first swimmers got on the blocks. There was tense silence in the huge pool area. Then the gun sounded "CRACK!" The race began!
Randy, Davis, and Blake were strong and fast, and aside from Trent, the best freestylers on the team. Yard-by-yard, on each of their legs, they built a lead for PJ. As each boy mounted the starting block for his two-lap leg, PJ looked over at Foxton to see who was going for them. It became obvious that their own anchorman was going to be Brad. PJ took a deep breath and resolutely pushed every thought from his mind except the only one that mattered: hold the lead my teammates are building for me! Hold it at all costs! His freestyle had been improving right along with his butterfly. He would prove it now by swimming the best time of his life!
Randy was the third Gordonsville swimmer, and as the team captain sprinted down the lane towards him, PJ stepped up onto the block. Next to him, Brad mounted his. When PJ took a glance, the big kid glanced back with a nasty smirk. Forget about him! PJ went into his crouch, coiling his wiry body for the start. It doesn't matter who I'm swimming against! I'll beat him! Randy's giving me over a body length's lead! It's enough!
The crowd was on its feet now, screaming encouragement. PJ focused on Randy, timed his start perfectly, and exploded off the block just as Randy's fingers touched the wall. Soaring out over the water in a flat racing dive, he hit the surface, accelerated to speed with a tremendous kick, and flew down the lap, slender body in perfect planning position powered by driving strokes.
Brad had that size advantage, so his dive took him farther out over the water, cutting into PJ's lead. The two boys raced down the first lap, muscular arms and shoulders keeping them up, planing over the surface of the water. PJ kicked harder to force his pace, deliberately not taking a breath so as to keep his perfect streamlining, exactly the way he did it on his butterfly leg on the medley relay. His body was screaming for air, but he stubbornly suppressed the desire to breathe and powered into the wall, acing his flip turn. His first breath didn't come until he'd pushed off and was two strokes into the second lap.
Turning his head for that quick suck of air, PJ was astounded to find that his rival had fallen slightly back! At PJ's waist going into the turn, now Brad was back at PJ's knees. He'd mistimed his turn! Tremendous energy surged through PJ! The nitwit just finished a 200 IM! Maybe he's tired! Whatever! It's an advantage!
Sensing weakness in his opponent, PJ doubled his effort and drove with everything he had toward the finish. Now! Never say die! Take him down! Win!
But the big kid was strong. Inch-by-inch he was creeping up! Now at PJ's waist . . . his chest . . .
Putting his head down, PJ gave a tremendous finishing kick. With Brad close by, he reached forward, stretched out his hand--and just managed to hit the touchpad at the end of the lane!
PJ pulled his head up, eyes searching frantically for the electronic scoreboard. There it was! Flashing next to his lane number, a "1"! A big red "1"! He'd done it! He'd kept the lead! He'd held off Brad, the best butterflyer in the entire Middle School league!
PJ's arm shot into the air in a victory salute. He drew his head back and gave a whooping cry. The pool area was thundering the roar of a chant, and with a thrilling realization, PJ recognized the chant was "Pee-Jay! . . . Pee-Jay! . . . Pee-Jay! . . . Pee-Jay!
Gordonsville had just won the meet!
Quickly he reached across the lane rope to shake hands with his opponent. Despite his crappy attitude, Brad had almost caught him in a terrific race, and PJ wanted to let him know how much he admired his attempt. But the big kid was already out of the pool. Walking away, he slammed his goggles into the wall in disgust. PJ couldn't believe that anyone who'd just made such a fine showing would behave like such a jerkwad.
As he started to get out of the water, his teammates yanked him the rest of the way and mobbed him. They all wanted to shake his hand; Randy, Trent, Blake, Davis--they were pounding him on the back. Coach Bernard came pushing through to give him an enormous hug. "Way to go, PJ! Way to go! What a great job!"
Randy brought the team together to give Foxton a cheer, but when Foxton cheered back, PJ noticed that a lot of their kids didn't participate. He looked for Brad, willing to try again for a handshake with him, but their star had already left the pool. After gathering up sweat suit and towel, PJ trotted over to the stands where Jack was up waiting, with Erik and Billy right next to him. Billy was still jumping up and down yelling "Pee-Jay! Pee-Jay!" and Erik had a huge smile. He leaned down even before Jack did and shouted, "I knew you could do it!"
Jack just grinned without saying anything. Finally, he leaned over and told PJ simply, "Way to go today, Champ." PJ felt warm all over. He would rather hear those words from Jack then have any other reward in the world!
"Jack," he said, "you remember that kid I beat in the 100-yard fly? The one you said would try to get even?"
"What happened to him, Tiger?"
"I have no idea, Jack! I never saw him again!"
Mr. Bunker, the young local reporter, came up to shake hands and told PJ, "Pretty exciting! Guess I should come to more of these." And then Abe Gerstein was shaking hands, too. He winked at PJ. "You're okay, kid. To tell the truth, you're not just `okay.' In my book, you're a star!"
"Amen to that," Mr. Bunker added.
Erik leaned down again. "I told all these guys they could have dinner with us at the Dining Hall. What do you think, PJ? It's a good idea, right? We'll be the envy of all the other kids."
PJ laughed delightedly. "Oh yeah! Great idea!" Then he got serious and asked, "Erik, what was my split? No one's told me yet."
Erik's face broke into a huge grin. "Take a look!" He held up the sheet of paper he was using to record PJ's times. "Your best by a mile!"
"Oh boy," PJ crowed. "I knew it had to be good. I'll get changed and meet you in the corridor."
"PJ, take me," Billy cried. PJ reached up and helped Billy climb down the wall to the pool deck. Together they went into the locker room where Billy chattered away as PJ changed and got dressed. "You were the best, PJ," he kept saying. "I heard Jack say so. Everybody kept cheering for you."
They went out into the basement corridor and found not only Erik waiting for them but the two reporters as well. "Jack's up there signing autographs again," Erik said, pointing at the stairs. "You might as well take your time." Abe Gerstein took the opportunity to suggest, "How `bout a tour?" His old, heavy features creased into a smile. "I'd like to see this place you've got here. It looks like quite a set-up."
PJ, Erik, and Billy led the two men around and up into the huge indoor track arena. An intramural basketball game was being played between two house teams. The elderly AP man looked around and whistled softly, "Man-oh-man, this is something!"
"Jack says a lot of colleges don't have anything this good," PJ told him.
Mr. Gerstein turned to Mr. Bunker. "You must cover a lot of interesting action here."
"Sure, I guess," the young reporter answered. "But, you know it's all schoolboy stuff."
"There's been a lot of good writing about schoolboy sports from time to time," the old man said thoughtfully, continuing to stare around.
"Jack says the great plays don't all happen in the big games or the Major Leagues," PJ told him. Gerstein turned and looked at him. "Jack Canon's a very intelligent man, PJ. How long have you known him?"
PJ's stomach tightened. There it was! Now my big mouth has these guys asking questions! When will I learn! "Oh, a long time," he answered vaguely.
"Jack's like PJ's fa . . ." Billy started to say, but Erik put a hand over the smaller boy's mouth, smiled, and told the reporters, "This is where our Middle School team plays basketball." He gestured at Mr. Bunker. "You oughta come to some of our games. They're pretty exciting." Then he pointed to one end of the arena. "Over there's where we'll be setting up the nets for indoor baseball practice. PJ, I think we better go find Jack. It's getting late. We need to get over to the Dining Hall for supper."
"Yeah," PJ agreed, hastily.
He was about to turn away when Abe Gerstein placed a hand on his shoulder. "You know, PJ . . ."-- the reporter was looking at him thoughtfully--". . . we came here to get a story on Jack. I'm not sure, but I think the real story here might be you."
"Remember what Jack told us," Charlie Bunker cautioned.
With a little nod, and a smile so warm and friendly PJ felt obliged to smile back, the old man let PJ go. They all followed Erik under the stands and up the stairs to the big foyer where Jack was signing the last few autographs. Billy's father was standing beside him. "Jack!" PJ ran over, and while the last few autograph seekers watched enviously, Jack put an arm around the boy's shoulders. "Erik says you two are taking us all to dinner," Jack said, looking down with a grin.
"Uh-huh," PJ happily replied. "The food's terrible, but I want us to do something right afterwards, and it'll be too late if we go to a restaurant." Once Jack finished signing, they all went out the big glass doors of the Field House into the cold night. As they walked to the Dining Hall, PJ told Jack all about his plans for the Championship and how Travis was coming to stay with him. "That way we can both psych each other up for our races and Erik can be our manager." He was still talking about his chances of making the butterfly finals in the Championships when they went through the cafeteria line in the Hall.
After they'd begun eating, Jack ruffled PJ's hair and said, "PJ, the food here's nowhere near as bad as you claimed. This is pretty good. It's better than I'll get at spring training camp next week!"
"How's spring training gonna be this year, Jack?" asked Mr. Gerstein.
"We'll have a good one." Jack frowned for a moment, thinking, and then said, "The team's signed some outstanding players, and we've got a few hot Minor League prospects, too. I'd say it'll be our best camp in a long time."
"How `bout for you?"
"I'm in the best shape
of my life," Jack replied with a grin. "You can ask PJ. He did a swim
workout with me in
PJ blushed and looked down at his plate.
"Feel like makin' any predictions, Jack?" Charlie Bunker asked. "How `bout the batting title? Think you'll get it this year?"
"I think that every year," Jack said laughing. But then he turned serious and, directing his remarks more to Mr. Gerstein than to Mr. Bunker, said, "I just wanna do everything I can to help the Red Sox win this year. I think we'll have a great team." He paused a moment, smiled, and reached over to ruffle PJ's hair again. "If we could get all the guys on the team to work as hard and think as positive as this character, we could beat anybody."
Everyone at the table looked at PJ, and the boy blushed again. He loved being praised by Jack, but he wished Jack wouldn't do it in front of other people. It should be private, like Bill did with Erik.
Abe Gerstein's eyes went from PJ to Jack and then back to PJ again. With a smile he asked, "What does the owner of the Red Sox have to say? Any feelings on how the team is shaping up?"
Erik, Billy's dad, and Mr. Bunker all looked startled at this question. Jack moved impatiently in his seat and seemed about to say something, but before he could, PJ smiled back shyly at the AP man and said, "I always think the Red Sox will have a great year. An' if Jack says so, I'm sure they will. Right now I'm more worried about how our Middle School team is gonna do—an' if I'll make the squad! Erik an' I have been practicing wall ball every day to get ready for the season. An' Jack's been coaching me. You oughta see him play wall ball! He is really good!"
"I play wall ball at my house, too," Billy told everyone. "PJ taught me."
Abe Gerstein's eyes twinkled, and he might have asked another question, but PJ got up quickly. "Jack, there's something I gotta show you. It's kind of a surprise."
"Oh?" Jack grinned and got up also. "Well, I got a surprise for you and Erik, too. I've got it in the car."
The rest all rose from the table with them and Mr. Thatcher said, "It's time for me to get Billy back home. This is a school night. Jack, it's been great. Now, remember what I said! Anytime you visit and need a bed, you've got one with us. You've got our number."
PJ and Erik led the way back outside. Mr. Thatcher shook hands with everyone and he and Billy left to go to their car, with Billy turning every few steps as they walked away, calling, "Goodbye, PJ! Goodbye, Erik! Goodbye, Jack!" Before heading for their own cars, the two reporters also shook hands with Jack, and Abe Gerstein said to PJ, "Young man, I've enjoyed meeting you very much. You're quite a boy. I hope we meet again some time."
"It was nice to meet you as well, Sir," PJ politely responded, careful to conceal his suppressed fears.
When both men were gone, Jack turned to Erik and PJ. "Sorry about bringing those two along, but they found out I was coming and there was nothing I could do."
PJ took his hand. "That's okay, Jack. Come on, I really want to show you something."
"Whoa! Hold your horses a second, Champ!" Jack pulled him back. "I get that you wanna show me something! But let's go to my car first. I got stuff for you guys. I'm parked over by your House." He strode off along the walkway, the boys scurrying after him, trotting to keep up. Once they reached Jack's car, the tall ballplayer pulled two gift-wrapped packages out of the backseat and said, "Let's get in where it's warm!"
The two boys eagerly led the way up to their room, dying to know what Jack had for them. PJ put his swim gear away and then stuck his head out into the hallway to look for his hero, who'd stopped for a moment to say hello to Mr. Williamson. "Come on, Jack," he begged as the big man came up the stairs, "we wanna see the surprise!"
Jack came into the room and handed each boy a package. As PJ took his, he felt a warm glow of happiness. It wasn't even Christmas, and Jack had brought him a present! A surprise present! PJ had never had one before! He looked at it with his eyes shining.
Erik ripped into his immediately. "Oh, cool!" He was holding some new books.
PJ didn't look yet, enjoying the anticipation and not wanting to spoil the surprise.
"Go ahead, PJ," Jack told him smiling. "Open it."
Very carefully, so as not to tear the wrapping, PJ pulled off the tape and unfolded the fancy gift paper. Inside were three brand-new books. "Wow!" PJ exclaimed. He caressed the books with his hand. They were all softbound, and he could smell the newness. The one on top was a sports book titled Safe at Home by Matt Christopher, the author of the others he liked so much. The picture on the front showed a boy in a red and blue baseball uniform sliding into home plate. Neat, he thought. Those are our colors! The next one was a thicker book with a drawing on the cover of a boy whitewashing a fence with a big brush. It was The Adventures of Tom Sawyer. The third book was titled Johnny Tremaine, the cover showing a boy wearing a three-cornered hat and Revolutionary War clothes. He turned and saw that Erik's books included Have Spacesuit, Will Travel and Between Planets. They were both by the same author, Robert Heinlein, the one who'd written the book Red Planet that Erik had discovered in the school library.
PJ was sure there could never have been a more wonderful surprise, and he looked up at Jack, who was watching anxiously. "Thanks, Jack."
"Yeah, Jack. Thanks!" Erik was already leafing through pages. "This guy writes neat books. PJ and I read another one by him."
Jack grinned. "You really like them?"
"Yeah!" both boys chorused.
"Good!" Jack let out a sigh of relief. "I had to guess, you know. I wasn't too sure what you'd like. I knew PJ had mentioned this one guy's books in an e-mail." He indicated the Heinlein books and then winked at PJ. "I ran into this Christopher fellow at that dinner where I gave a speech in LA. He was just tickled when I told him about you, PJ. He gave me this." Jack picked up Safe at Home. "It's his latest. This is an advance copy. The book isn't in the stores yet. I told him that the boy on the front is wearing your school colors, and he said it was a 'fortunate coincidence.' He told me to be sure to give you the book along with his compliments. Look inside the cover."
PJ opened the front of the book while Erik looked over his shoulder. Inside, on the first page, was an inscription:
"To my young fan, PJ. Good luck, and have great fun in your reading and sports adventures. I love writing books for boys like you! Best wishes."
Below, Mr. Christopher had signed his name, and underneath that, Jack had added something of his own in his usual black felt-tip writing:
"For my Little Champ, who has all the heart and courage in real life that the boy in the story has. Your friend always, Jack."
PJ felt so good when he read this that his eyes began to swim with tears. He quickly brushed at them. He couldn't let Erik see that! He looked up at Jack with a heart so full he couldn't say anything, but his face said it all.
Jack gave him a pat on the shoulder. "I kinda thought you'd like it. Matt helped me pick out the other books, too. I told him about how you'd gotten interested in the Revolutionary War, and he said this Johnny Tremaine book was good. He said there was another book about Ben Franklin and a mouse, but he was afraid you might be too old for it."
"Ben and Me! That's in our library," Erik said.
Jack nodded. "Yeah. Well anyway, I thought this Tremaine one looked good so I got it." He picked up the thick book with the picture of the boy by the fence. "Maybe you've heard of this one?"
"Sure!" PJ told him, and Erik added, "Our English master talks about it."
"Well, I think you might like it," Jack said. "I do." He put it down and pointed to Erik's presents. "Now the idea here is that you guys read these books and then switch off. They're really for both of you, so read `em all."
PJ and Erik grinned at each other. "We will," they promised.
PJ put his books on his bed, went to his desk, and got out the star chart. "Come on, Jack." He tugged at the man's hand. "Now I have a surprise for you."
Erik had taken off his jacket and was curling up on his bed with one of the Heinlein books. "I'm starting on this one right now," he announced. "If you guys go outside, you're gonna freeze. No way I'm going to the Hill tonight."
"The `Hill'?" Jack said curiously. "What's on the `Hill'?"
"You'll see." PJ tried to sound mysterious. "Come on." He led the way downstairs and then out into the cold, sparkling clear night. Lights were on in the houses, but they met no one as they walked across the dark campus. The sports fields were deserted and the moon hadn't yet risen. Up on top of the Hill, where drifts of snow still lingered, trees blocked their view to the south, but all the rest of the horizon was open. Above them, stars sparkled in the vault of the night sky like diamond dust strewn over the bottom of a great bowl. The Milky Way gleamed faintly, a ribbon of light from horizon to horizon.
"It's like being in church," Jack said, putting an arm around PJ's shoulders. "This is beautiful, PJ."
"It's even better than the Planetarium," PJ told him eagerly. "Erik and I have been coming here a lot." He held up the star chart. "I brought this but I really don't need it now. We've both learned almost all the stars on it." He showed Jack where Orion, the mighty hunter of the winter night, was dominating the sky. "See the bright stars in his belt?" PJ pointed. "And there's his sword. It has nebulae of young stars. And there's Beetlejuice. It was named that by the Arab astronomers. Most of the dumb kids here think it's the name of a movie."
He kept identifying more and more stars, taking Jack on a tour of the sky and finishing with his two favorites, the constellation Ursa Major, the one that had the two stars which pointed to the polestar, Polaris, and then the constellation Gemini. "That's the Twins," PJ said softly. "Erik and I like that one because we feel like twins."
Jack had patiently listened to PJ's long talk, occasionally nodding to show interest. Now he gave the boy a hug around the shoulders. "You're getting to have all kinds of nice friends, aren't you. Erik and Billy and Travis. . . ."
PJ leaned comfortably against the man. "Yeah," he said happily. "I never had a chance to make any before--or I didn't want to. I like it a lot better now." He looked up at Jack and asked curiously, "Why don't you have any friends, Jack?"
The man stared at him. "I'm not sure what you mean, PJ. I have lots of friends."
"You never talk about them," PJ said, puzzled. "And you never say anything about them in your e-mails."
All about them the night was silent, the air still. Jack shrugged, his arm tightening around PJ's shoulders. "I guess, in a way you're right," he said thoughtfully. "I don't really know. Ever since. . . . Well, for the last five years I've been busy. Coming back from my injury . . . playing ball . . . I guess I just haven't tried very hard to make any friends."
"I'm your friend, Jack." PJ put his arm around Jack's waist and hugged him.
"Yeah, I realize that. . . ." After a moment Jack said, "PJ, Spring Training starts next week. We'll be working pretty hard every day. Then the regular season after that. It's going to be a lot tougher for me to visit you."
"I know . . ." PJ looked up anxiously. "Maybe I can visit you! But you're coming to my Championship meet, aren't you?"
Jack sighed. "Yeah. But just for a short time to see your race. I have to be careful."
"What do you mean?"
"Well look, PJ. Spring Training's kind of important. I can't just miss a few days for no reason. I'm kind of a team leader. I have to set an example."
"Sort of like team captain."
"Right." Jack nodded. "If I just walk out for a few days, everyone else will think they can do that too. We won't be much of a team then."
PJ thought about this. He knew how important it was for a team to stick together. He took a deep breath. "If it's gonna cause a lot of trouble for you, Jack, then it's okay if you don't come to see me . . ."
Jack smiled at him. "No, PJ, I'll come. After all, you're kind of important too. Anyway, you heard what Abe Gerstein called you today. A star!" A warm glow went through PJ when he heard that.
"I got it all worked out," Jack continued. "I'm going to sneak away."
"Like a secret agent!" PJ said delightedly.
"Right. This'll be an undercover operation, PJ, so don't broadcast that I'm going to be here."
"I won't!" PJ grinned and tugged at Jack's hand. "Come on, I'll race you back. If we run, we'll get warm again."
The two figures of man and boy flew down the hill, laughing and chasing each other toward the campus. Had a stranger been gazing upon the scene, he would have thought he was seeing the joyful romp of a father and son.
* * *
CONCLUSION OF INSTALLMENT TWELVE
Editor Paul K. Scott's e-mail: paulkdoctor@gmail.com