INSTALLMENT
THIRTEEN
from
THE FATHER
CONTRACT
By Arthur Arrington
Edited Paul Scott
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Chapter Twenty-Eight: The Eastern Championships
For PJ, the three weeks preceding the mid-March Middle-School Championships went by in a blur of activity. He and Erik devoured Jack's books and nearly had a fight over who would use The Adventures of Tom Sawyer for a book report because they both liked it so much. The argument was starting to get heated when PJ said, "Wait a minute, Erik. I don't wanna argue with you. You're my best friend."
"Yeah," Erik agreed, looking a little ashamed. "Sorry, PJ. Hey, I wonder how Tom and Huck would settle this?"
PJ grinned. "They'd prob'ly toss for it. An' even if Huck won, Tom would find some way to talk him into thinking he hadn't."
"For sure!" Erik said, laughing. "Look, PJ, Jack's your friend an' he gave us the books. You go ahead and do the report on Tom Sawyer, I'll do mine on Have Spacesuit, Will Travel. That's gotta be the best sci-fi book I've ever read!"
"Definitely," PJ agreed, "it was awesome! Thanks, Erik."
PJ liked all the books. He identified a lot with the boys in Tom Sawyer and Johnny Tremaine because they were orphans. So was the boy in Safe at Home. PJ was particularly moved by that story: an orphan boy living in a foster home who learns to play baseball and gets adopted by the coach and his family. He'd kept the book in a special place on his shelf, taking it down often to look at the cover and re-read the last chapter. He'd even memorized part of it.
In the second week before the
Championships, Jack held a press conference. As PJ entered the House after
dinner, he was dragged into the common room by excited boys who told him,
"You're just in time! Jack's on ESPN any second now!" After a commercial,
Mr. Davis, the famous commentator PJ had met in
"At the Boston Red Sox spring training camp today, team members held a secret, players-only meeting. No reporters, not even coaches or the manager, were allowed in. After the session, Red Sox superstar Jack Canon gave a statement to the media. Our ESPN crew has this report."
The live picture changed to a scene recorded earlier that showed a local ESPN reporter standing in a large low-ceilinged room where other newspeople milled around in the background. The reporter repeated the story about the meeting, and the picture then cut to a shot of Jack walking into the same room where he made his way to a lectern fitted with a battery of microphones. From behind it, Jack met the barrage of questions that greeted him by holding up a hand. He gave the reporters his famous grin. "I can't say anything about what went on in the meeting. But I do have a statement for you."
There was instant silence in the room. The ESPN camera zoomed in and Jack stared directly into the lens. Just the way he looks when he's trying to tell me something important, PJ thought. Jack began talking, slowly and distinctly.
"The Boston Red Sox are a great baseball team
with a proud tradition. We have the best, most loyal fans in the game.
"I'm worried particularly about our youngest fans. The kids who believe in us, who come and cheer for us season after season. I don't want them to think they're rooting for a second-rate team. I want them to know how great this club has been in the past, and how great it is today. We have a terrific team this year! Our front office has signed some fine young players. I ask all our fans, especially you kids out there, to come out to Fenway this summer! Cheer us on! Give us your support! I think you're gonna see something! I think you're gonna see a team in the tradition of the great, legendary Red Sox teams of the past!"
There was a flurry of questions from the reporters as Jack finished, one shout rising above the others: "Does this mean you think the Red Sox will win their Division and go through the American League Championship to the World Series? Is this the year?"
Jack waited until the reporters were quiet before answering. He looked back again at the camera, eyes boring into the lens. "I'll just say this--and it's for the fans. Especially the kids. When you believe, anything's possible!" Then with another grin, he turned away and left the room, with the reporters volleying more questions at him.
All the boys in the common room began talking. "Man, he is so cool!"; "Wouldn't it be great if the Sox could do it!"; "My dad says they'll never win a Series"; "I saw him play last year!"; "I got his autograph when he was here last month!" A boy called, "Hey, PJ, what did Jack say about winning the Series to you?" Another said,"PJ, it's so cool that you know that guy!"
"PJ," a third asked, "is it true you own the Red Sox?" There was silence after that question. Then a few more chorused, "Yeah, PJ, is that true?"
PJ laughed and just shook his head. "Nah. Where'd you hear that? I just know Jack, that's all."
No one looked very satisfied with that answer, but the questions stopped and PJ escaped upstairs, heart pounding with excitement. Jack had made a commitment to the fans! Right on national TV! What a season it was gonna be! PJ could guess what Jack had said during that secret meeting.
But questions about owning the Red Sox did not go away as PJ hoped. The next day, there was a column in the paper by Abe Gerstein, the famous AP sportswriter PJ had met on Jack's last visit. It was entitled "The Sox and the Series: Is This the Year?" and it was all about Jack's press conference and the prospects for the team. Mr. Gerstein concluded by writing,
"Knowledgeable sources around the game insist that the present owner of the Red Sox is a young boy who inherited a controlling interest in the team through a family trust. There are persistent rumors that the Red Sox met all Jack Canon's contract demands and signed him at this young owner's wish. Rumors also circulate that in return, Jack Canon agreed to lead the Red Sox to a World Championship. Whether or not these rumors are true, I believe the Red Sox need Jack Canon and made the right move signing him. He is the greatest player in the game today. I wish Jack and his young team owner well. Can the Red Sox do it? Well, the Yankees, the Indians, the White Sox, and the Rangers all may have something to say about that before we're done. But I can promise you one thing, so hold onto your hats, folks: it's going to be an interesting season!"
Right next to the article was the picture taken in Florida of PJ handing Jack a bat; the same picture PJ had put in Jack's desk set.
Enough kids saw the article that he was continually asked questions about it, and when Billy came over for a visit, he found that both the young boy and his dad had also seen it. PJ always gave the same answer to anyone who asked--he didn't own any baseball team, and he and Jack had been friends for a long time.
With just over a week to go, PJ found the Championships occupying his thoughts more and more. Sometimes he dreamed about them at night. Mr. Bernard had the team on a taper program, gradually reducing workout intensity so their bodies would recover from all the conditioning and reach a peak of strength for the big meet. He met with each swimmer who was going to compete to discuss his events. "You made cut-off times in the fly, freestyle, and IM," the coach told PJ. "That's really good for an eleven-year-old! Not much chance of making the finals in the free or IM. That's for next year! For now, we'll concentrate on the fly. I think you've got a chance to make the finals there. And that would be a terrific thing your first time in the meet!"
PJ was kept from being overwhelmed by Championship fever because of all the other stuff that was going on. For one thing, he kept up his e-mails to Travis and Jack. Jack seldom answered, but Travis always sent a daily message to both PJ and Erik. Coach Drew was tapering him down, too, and Travis confessed that, like PJ, he was starting to get nervous. In one of his e-mails he wrote:
"I know I shouldn't start worrying so early, but it's
my last chance at the gold medal before I move to the
Erik made a schedule for the big day, one he claimed was the same used by athletes in the Olympics. He wouldn't allow PJ to see it. "I'm gonna have you and Travis follow this," he told PJ. "You'll find out then."
The weekend before the Championships, Erik's basketball team played in a tournament and Bill, PJ, Billy, and Mr. Thatcher attended all the games at the Field House. For two whole days PJ was able to get his mind off his own upcoming event by keeping Erik focused. He made sure Erik got proper rest, ate the right kind of meals, kept him psyched up, rubbed his roommate's aching legs with sports liniment at night, and cheered for him at all the games. The Gordonsville Middle School team made it into the semifinals before being eliminated, their best showing in years, and Erik played well. "Wait 'til next year!" he said happily. "I'll be a year older and we'll do even better!" Bill and Mr. Thatcher took them out to dinner as a celebration.
As the last days before the Championships counted down, PJ and Erik made final preparations. Mrs. Williamson carefully cleaned and ironed PJ's blue-and-red team sweat suit. On the back, it featured the "Gordonsville School" in big red letters, an identification which PJ wanted everyone at the meet to loudly and clearly see! He bought a new team Speedo as well. Erik helped him clean the room so it would be ready for Travis' visit, and Mr. Bernard made sure PJ's teachers knew that he'd be competing so they wouldn't load him with schoolwork.
On Friday afternoon, PJ and Erik stationed themselves in the common room, watching out the window for Travis to arrive. PJ was feeling particularly happy because he had received an e-mail from Jack:
"Operation Sneak Away proceeding as planned. CU Saturday morning. Jack."
"I think that's them," Erik said, and pointed. A car was pulling up in the parking area at the side of their House. PJ and Erik both went outside, and when PJ saw Travis and Coach Drew emerge, he yelled, "Hey, Trav!" The boys ran to greet their friend, grabbing Travis' arms and pummeling him through his bulky jacket. "Hey, Older Brother!" PJ said, grinning broadly. "Oh, and Hi, Coach Drew." The young man nodded and smiled back.
"What's up, Little Bros?" Travis gave PJ and Erik a quick hug.
"Was your drive up, okay?" PJ asked. "All ready to go for gold tomorrow?"
The lanky boy smiled. "Guess so. If I'm not ready now, I never will be." He turned to his coach. "I'll be okay now with these two to look after me."
"Right." Coach Drew put a hand on PJ's shoulder. "I'll be pulling for you in that fly tomorrow! You guys get a good rest tonight. Don't stay up too late."
"Jack's comin' to see me race," PJ told him. "Erik's gonna hold seats at the starting end of the pool. I'll introduce you to Jack tomorrow morning and you can all sit together."
Coach Drew beamed. "I'd like that!"
The younger boys escorted Travis into the House so he could be introduced to Mr. Williamson, and the Housemaster warmly shook his hand. "PJ's told me all about you. I'm delighted you're staying here for the meet." He turned to Erik. "I'm holding you responsible for these two. If they don't do well tomorrow, I'll know who to go find."
"Not to worry, Sir." Erik drew himself up proudly. "You see before you an expert manager of champions. I've been reading books about it."
The boys took Travis upstairs where he dropped off his bag, after which they walked to the Field House so Travis could practice some swimming and work the stiffness of the long car ride out of his legs. PJ and Erik both changed and dove into the water with him to keep him company. I'm not on the team," Erik declared, "but I swim pretty good." PJ rolled his eyes, splashed Erik's face, and then ducked nimbly away as his roommate tried to grab him.
The boys made Travis do a little mini-workout with some kicking, pulling, and a few sprints that were designed to get the kinks out and allow practice on his turns for the next day. They both swam in the lanes next to him to give him some competition. At the end of the last sprint, Erik winked at PJ. They ducked into Travis' lane to begin tickling him unmercifully, causing him to burst into laughter and sputter, "Ah! Help! Ah! Oh!" He tickled back and the three boys happily thrashed around in the water. Finally they hauled themselves out onto the side where Travis lay on his back, sprawled on the deck. "Oh man! Almost killed by my own younger brothers!" PJ and Erik both tickled him again in his armpits and Travis laughed, pulling his arms in tight. "Come on," PJ said. "Get dressed, Trav. We'll show you the Hill."
The afternoon sun was just warm enough to keep the chill off as PJ and Erik took Travis on a slow, relaxing walk over to the Hill and then on a climb to the top to enjoy the view. "This is where we sled and snowboard," Erik told him. "And sometimes we come at night to look at the stars," PJ added. "This is a really nice place."
Travis was staring at the stone quadrangles of the distant campus. He went on softly, "You know, if it wasn't for staying close to my coach, this would be the school I'd want to go to." "Yeah. It's the best," PJ agreed.
The older boy turned to look at him. "PJ, thanks for fixing it so I could swim a little. I feel better now. I can't ever remember being so nervous before a meet."
"Heck, Travis," Erik said. "Of course you're nervous. This meet means a lot to you."
"Don't worry, Trav," PJ assured him. "You're gonna do good. We'll help you."
"Yeah," Erik added. "An' you guys know what?"
"What?" they asked.
"Well, my basketball coach always tells us something before big games. He says, 'I hope you win. I think you can. But, I'll still like you if you don't.'" Erik regarded the older boy with a serious expression. "PJ says he thinks you can win, Travis. So I guess you can. But for real, I'll still like you just as much even if you don't."
"Me too," PJ said.
Travis blushed and looked down. "Thanks, guys."
After walking slowly back to campus, PJ and Erik took Travis to an early supper at the Dining Hall and then, having discovered that their adopted older brother was uninitiated in the wonders of Flight Simulator, they escorted Travis to their room so he could enjoy an evening of crash landings on PJ's computer. The three of them had a heck of a lot of fun, but eventually Erik pointed out the time and declared that, as their manager, he was ordering "Lights out. You get my bed," he told Travis. "We put all new sheets on it for you."
"But . . ."--Travis took a glance around the room--". . . where are you gonna sleep?"
"PJ and I double up," Erik said. "We're still small enough so there's room for two of us to sleep together."
While they all changed into their pajamas and got ready for bed, PJ was careful not to reveal how nervous he was. Doubling up so Travis could have a bed to himself had been all Erik's idea (PJ had assumed Travis would use an air mat or something). As little as four or five months earlier, his terror of bedwetting would have kept him from agreeing, even though it was Erik asking. But he'd learned to trust Erik more and more. Plus Travis was a close friend who knew about his problem and had been understanding and sympathetic. And then there was Jack. . . .
PJ couldn't explain it, even to himself, but somehow just knowing Jack--knowing that his hero was in his life, that he would answer e-mails and come for visits--somehow it made a big difference. Yes, he'd even admitted to Jack that he'd had bedwetting accidents in the past, and now, thanks to him, managed his fear of that problem, not to mention managing his life at Gordonsville, even making friends--somehow it was all easier.
Still, as he said good night to the other boys and turned in, PJ was feeling less confident, wishing he'd talked Erik into some other plan. He lay quietly for a long time, listening to his roommate's breathing, unable to sleep. Finally, in desperation, he whispered, "Erik?"
"What?" Erik answered softly.
"Erik, if I . . . if I, like, do anything during the night, or make noise or something . . ."
"Look, PJ," Erik assured him quietly. "I'm your roommate and I'm not stupid. I know what you're worried about. Forget it. I'm your best friend. Even if you flood the place, I'll help you clean it up and no one will ever know. Now stop worrying and go to sleep."
PJ sighed. "Thanks Erik," he said gratefully.
He slept a lot better that night then he had thought he would.
* * *
Erik got both PJ and Travis up the following morning for breakfast, and to PJ's delighted surprise, when they went downstairs, they founded Jack waiting for them in the common room holding a newspaper and talking with Mr. Williamson.
"Jack!" PJ ran to him, eyes shining.
"Hi'ya PJ!" Jack got up to put an arm around the boy's shoulders. "I got here a little early so I thought I'd just wait until you came down." He turned to the others. "Hey, Erik! Congratulations on that tournament! PJ told me all about it in his e-mail. And Travis! It's good to see you again! Good luck today." Travis beamed with pleasure as Jack gave him a little hug and a pat on the back.
"Listen," Jack told them with a big grin, "I hope you boys are heading for breakfast. And I hope you don't mind my tagging along. I'm starving!"
"Sure!" they all chorused as PJ took hold of Jack's hand, dragging him toward the door.
While they walked across a campus where patches of snow still lingered, PJ related all the things they'd been doing and asked, "Are there any reporters this time, Jack? Did you sneak away all right?"
"Yeah," Jack told him, laughing. "Got away clean. No reporters this time, thank goodness. They all think I'm in Miami for a routine checkup on the knee. My friend Harry, the assistant trainer, picked me up after the exhibition game yesterday, we slipped over to the airport, I caught a plane to Philly, and then drove up here. I stayed in a motel last night. As far as I know, I'm out from under the press. Let's hope no one tells them I'm here."
Erik didn't allow PJ much breakfast because the preliminary heats for his butterfly event were in the morning. "But you go ahead and stuff yourself, Travis," he instructed. "Your heats are this afternoon." PJ explained to Jack about how Erik was acting as manager for them and Jack nodded in approval, holding out a fist for Erik to bump.
They had a few hours to wait until the morning's events started, so Erik led them back to the House where he made PJ and Travis lie down on the beds, while he and Jack sat on the desk chairs. "Can you tell us stuff about Spring training, Jack?" Erik asked. "That way these guys won't get all nervous thinking too much about their races."
"Good thinking," Jack said with a grin and entertained them for awhile with stories about Red Sox training camp. "Everyone saw your press conference, Jack," PJ told him. "Oh, yeah, that stirred things up all right," Jack said with another big grin. "But it was important to make a commitment to the fans. Would you guys believe, we actually have some players who'd be perfectly content to play through the season, not trying very hard to win as long as their salary checks keep coming?"
"I'd believe it," Travis said. "We have kids just like that on our swim team at school."
Jack nodded in understanding. "It's tough being the only good athlete on a weak squad. You're pretty nervous about today, aren't you."
"Yeah," Travis admitted. "I'm trying not to be. It's just that it means a lot."
Jack sighed. "Boy, I know just how that is." He paused for a moment, looking over at PJ with a smile, and went on, "When I was tryin' to win my first batting title, toward the end of that season I'd get so nervous each time I came to bat, my hands would shake."
"What did you do?" Erik asked curiously.
"Same thing Travis is gonna do. I learned two things. A little nervousness is natural. And it's good because it shows you're serious. It gets you pumped up. But too much is bad because it can spoil your focus. I found that if I let myself get too nervous, I wouldn't do well. I'd tighten up. So, I learned to keep myself distracted. I'd cheer for the other guys, get involved in the game, maybe tell some jokes to stay loose. And the nerves went completely away once I got up to the plate and swung at some pitches. For Travis, they'll go away when he starts his race. And that's what you guys are gonna help Travis with today."
"And I'm gonna help PJ," Travis said. "This is a big meet for him, too. I remember what it was like my first time."
Jack kept them interested with stories and talk until Erik announced that it was time to go to the pool. When PJ got his swim bag, Travis reached for his as well. "I'll warm up with you, PJ. It'll help keep me loose."
"Sounds like a good idea," Jack said when Erik looked at him for approval.
Coach Drew was waiting for them at the Field House, and his face lit up in a big grin when he saw Jack. After PJ introduced the two men, Erik led them off to get seats while PJ and Travis went to the locker room where the heat sheets for the morning events were posted. They looked them over.
"Look, PJ!" Travis exclaimed. You're seeded number two in the first heat. You'll have one of the center lanes! That's perfect!" PJ studied the sheets. There were nineteen contestants entered in the 100-yard butterfly. Some of the times looked pretty good. He would be in the first of four heats. Maybe he could do a good enough time so that he could discourage some of the kids that had to swim in the heats after his. Only the six fastest times would make the finals. "One of those six is gonna be me!" he whispered to himself.
"Come on, PJ, I'll help you warm up," Travis said.
The big pool area was mobbed with kids from different schools. A few PJ had seen before in his meets, but many he hadn't. There were swimmers in the Championships from schools all up and down the East Coast, some as far away as Florida and Maine, too far for Gordonsville to have had dual meets with them.
PJ and Travis had trouble finding space in one of the eight lanes. They had to wait their turn, and then swim in a circle while sharing the lane with other kids. PJ did some easy kicking and pulling to get loose, and then with Travis racing against him for competition, he sprinted a few half-laps as a way of "revving up" and stretching the kinks out his arms and shoulders. Afterwards, as they hung on the wall to rest, PJ looked around for other butterflyers. He tapped Travis on the shoulder, and commented, "See over there?" He pointed across the pool. The two flyers from Foxton School, the ones PJ had swum against in his last dual meet, were warming up in another lane.
"That one big kid my age is really good," Travis said. "He'll probably win your event."
"Yeah, that's Brad. But I beat the other guy in our meet," PJ said. "I don't think he likes me too much."
"If you beat him once, I bet you can beat him again," Travis confidently declared. When they got out of the water, he asked, "How do you feel, PJ? Wanna try some starts?"
"Nope. I'm okay. Look." PJ pointed to the tiers of seats on the spectator side where a crowd of onlookers, kids and adults, spectators as well as swimmers, pushed in close around Jack, Coach Drew, and Erik at the place near the starting-block end of the pool where Erik always sat for PJ's dual meets. Jack was flashing his famous grin as he signed his usual autographs.
"Geez!" Travis exclaimed. "They never let him alone, do they. Is it always like that when he comes?"
PJ nodded. "Always. Come on."
They dried off and pulled on their sweat suits. When Erik saw them approaching, he moved to a clear spot on the railing and leaned out excitedly, holding sheets of paper in his hand. "Check this out, PJ! You're seeded second in the first heat!" PJ already knew that. But then Erik added, "You got the eighth best entry time! You only gotta move up two places and you make the finals!"
"Lookin' good, Tiger!" Jack pushed in next to Erik, gave PJ a smile, and turned to Travis, his eyes twinkling. "You're coach here has been telling us all kinds of things about you, Travis. I think he kinda likes you."
Travis smiled and blushed, while PJ looked around proudly, wanting to be sure everyone knew that Jack was here to see him!
"PJ . . . "--Coach Drew was also leaning out towards them--"I thought you looked real good in warm-up. Do you feel ready?"
PJ nodded.
"Well, just remember, it's not like a dual meet. You won't have the excitement of the cheering and the team competition to get you up for the event. You'll have to psych yourself up. Now remember: you have an advantage! You're just trying to make the finals, and you only have one event to swim. You don't have to worry about saving yourself the way some of the others do. Just go all out!"
"Right," PJ told him, nodding again.
"We'll get all your split times for you," the young coach assured him. He looked at Travis. "Stay with him, Trav. Find him a good place to sit. Keep him loose, but make sure he stays focused."
"Okay, Coach."
"Good luck, Tiger!" Jack leaned down to give PJ's shoulder a squeeze. "Go get 'em! You're my Little Champ!" PJ's eyes glowed and he grabbed Jack's hand. He loved it when Jack called him that! "I'm gonna do it, Jack! You'll see! I'm gonna do it!" Jack flashed him a big grin.
PJ and Travis had to search for awhile to find a place to sit. The pool was crowded with competitors for the morning events, but they finally snagged two spots on one of the benches about halfway down from the starting end. "Still close to the action," Travis said and PJ mouthed a silent "yes" of agreement. They both knew from experience that at all-day age-group meets, the big enemy was boredom. Before PJ's butterfly event, there would be an hour or more of multiple heats in other races. It was very important, therefore, to stay involved, not go stale, and, as Jack had warned, calm the nerves with distractions. Thus Travis kept an eye on things so that whenever Gordonsville boys or competitors they knew from other schools were swimming, he could get PJ up to cheer and watch. In between, he tried to keep PJ occupied with interesting talk. It turned out Travis had also read Johnny Tremaine, so they had fun comparing notes on the book, with Travis filling PJ in on all sorts of stuff about the Revolution that he'd picked up in other reading.
At last the announcement came for PJ's event. "Keep your sweat suit on," Travis told him. "Don't take it off until you go to the blocks. I'll go up with you and hang around to take care of it."
PJ had no intention of taking off his sweatsuit. He went to the check-in area wearing it proudly, hoping everyone saw the "GORDONSVILLE SCHOOL" sewn on the back in those big red capital letters. I am representing my school in a championship event! It was a dream come true! He felt keyed up and ready!
Coach Bernard was there to help him check in. "Listen, PJ. You're peaked and rarin' to go. I know it! You're going to break your best time and I think you're going to make the finals. Don't hold anything back. Take it out as hard as you can and bring it home even faster! You can do it!" He gave PJ a pat on his shoulder and took him to the clerk's table. As PJ and the other swimmers checked in, the clerk's assistant marked them off and had them sit in rows of chairs corresponding to their heats and lane assignments. PJ saw that Brad was seeded first in the last heat. Not surprisingly, he had the fastest entry time. The other Foxton butterflyer glared at him and sat down right next to him with a nasty smile.
"Hi," PJ said as pleasantly as he could.
When the older boy muttered "you little shit" and just looked away, PJ experienced a glow of self-satisfaction. That response was just what he'd expected. He'd set him up! Now he had even more incentive to win this race--because this was the jerk he'd beaten in their dual meet, the one who had been such an asswipe! They would be up against each other again! In the same heat! Racing in lanes right next to each other! Incentive, yes, to whip this smartass a second time!
I can take you, jerk-off! he said to himself, feeling his heart pound and butterflies flutter in his stomach. Butterflies before the butterfly! he thought with a grin. Let's get this thing started!
When the first heat was sent to the blocks, PJ stepped up eagerly. Travis was there to take his sweat suit. As PJ retied the waistband of his Speedo and adjusted his goggles, Travis whispered," Go for it, Little Bro. Let's do this thing!"
"Thanks, Older Brother." After one quick glance at his rival in the lane next to him, PJ stepped up onto the starting block and his competitive instinct took over. All thought of the other swimmers dropped out of his mind as he waited for the starter's commands. His eyes focused only on the empty lane stretching out in front of him.
"Take your marks!"
PJ bent down, hands out in front of his body. Then the "CRACK" of the gun sent them on their way.
For the first two laps of the race, PJ paid no attention to any of his competitors, concentrating just on taking those opening laps as fast and hard as possible. Powerful undulating dolphin kicks drove him through the water, and he used that strong leg kick to force the rhythm of his stroke, exalting in the realization that he felt lighter and faster then he ever had before! At the halfway point, when he hit his second turn and saw he was in the lead, he did not feel tired at all!
Sprinting into the last two laps, he knew he was going to win the heat and do his best time! He could feel it! Fresh energy poured into him. Even on the last lap he was stroking powerfully, body streamlined, feeling as if he was just skimming the top of the water! For the final six yards, he tried to double his stroke in a tremendous finishing kick, hitting the wall fully extended for a perfect finish! He pulled his head up to check the electronic scoreboard.
First place! His best time by over two seconds! Even better, the Foxton kid was finishing more than a body-length behind! PJ's fist shot up in a victory salute. Got you, sucker! Beat you again! How you like it?!
But damn. PJ remembered what Jack had told him about sportsmanship and, suppressing a fierce desire to flip Master Numbnuts the bird, he reached across the lane rope and offered a hand to his beaten opponent. With a sullen glance at him, the Foxton boy, still gasping from the effort of the race, ignored PJ's hand, pulled himself out of the water, and walked off without looking back. PJ waved a bye-bye.
Then Travis was kneeling by the block, his face alive with excitement. "It's your best by a mile, PJ! This is gonna shake up the guys behind you in the other heats. Man, you looked good out there!" He helped PJ out of the water and gave him his towel. "Let's see how the next heat does!" They moved to the side where they could watch while PJ dried himself. As the race finished, both boys looked up at the scoreboard eagerly. "Oh yeah!" Travis yelled, pounding PJ on the shoulder. "No one beat your time! No one! This is great! You're gonna make the finals. I can feel it!"
Once PJ pulled on his sweat suit, the boys went over to Jack and the others. Erik was nearly beside himself with joy, leaning out over the railing. "PJ! Your best by over two seconds! And your 50-yard split was your best ever for that too!"
PJ took his friend's hand excitedly and put his other in the hand Jack was holding out. "Nice one, Tiger!" Jack grinned as they shook.
"I did my very best, Jack," PJ told him proudly.
Coach Drew leaned over. "PJ, so far you've got the fastest qualifying time. That could make the finals. You swam that race just the way we wanted. Good job!"
As they were all talking, the next heat of butterflyers was called to the blocks. With PJ watching anxiously, the starter fired! Erik crouched down, leaning through the railing, holding the stopwatch so his roommate could see it. "The kid in the lead is right on your time, PJ!" When the race finished, PJ scanned the scoreboard quickly. The older boy who won had beaten his time, but no one else had. He was in second place, but that was good enough!
The last heat came to the blocks with Foxton's Brad in the center lane. PJ knew that Brad would also beat his time, but what about the others? He looked them over. He didn't know any of them. The starter's gun cracked. As the contestants stroked down the first lap, Brad pulled away and Travis murmured, "Boy, he is good!"
PJ crossed his fingers about the others. At the fifty, the halfway point, Erik checked the splits. "You're still ahead of all the rest," he crowed. Yes! PJ thrilled. I'm gonna make it! When the heat finished, he scanned all the times on the big scoreboard. He'd done it! He was in third place!
"Yeee-oow-ww!" shouted Travis.
PJ was so thrilled he barely felt Erik and Travis pounding his back. He was one of the youngest swimmers in the meet, but he'd made the finals of the 100-yard butterfly! Made it with the third fastest time! Not only had he qualified--he was in a medal position!
After Travis and PJ had finished changing, they all went to celebrate and have lunch. "Now we get Travis qualified this afternoon," Erik said as the three boys and two men walked to Jack's big rental car. Erik was taking his role of manager extemely seriously. "Jack, we gotta go to a lunch place where PJ can get something to make up for his teeny breakfast."
Coach Drew suppressed a smile and said, "I found a place last night I think might be good."
"Navigate me to it," Jack told him. "Just don't take us anywhere there's a crowd. If someone recognizes me, we'll get mobbed." The young coach dutifully directed them to a strip mall beyond the airport and had them park in front of an Italian restaurant. "Oh yeah, Pasta! The perfect training meal," Jack said. "It's what our trainers give us before workouts in camp."
"This is what they use in the Olympics," Drew explained to the boys. "It's easy to digest and high in carbohydrates for energy.
They all went in, Jack with his dark glasses on, and wearing an old floppy hat. When he saw PJ eyeing a display of hot pizza pies, he growled, "No pizza!"
"Isn't that pasta?" PJ asked hopefully.
"Nope. Way too heavy. You'll sink in that Final! You can load up on spaghetti if you want."
"Okay!" Fortunately, PJ also liked spaghetti.
They all ate a hearty meal except for Travis. Because he had to swim even earlier than PJ, he stuck to a simple pasta salad. "I'll give you a snack right after your qualifying heat," Coach Drew told him. "And then you and PJ can have something later, before the Finals."
While they were eating, they all talked about PJ's race. "That kid who was seeded first in your heat," Erik said between mouthfuls of the spaghetti he and PJ were sharing. "Wasn't he from Foxton? That one you beat when we swam them?"
"Hey, that's right," Jack observed, turning to grin at PJ. "I remember him. You really nailed him this time, Tiger."
"Yeah," Erik was grinning too. "The jerk didn't even make the finals!"
PJ didn't say a word.
"Qualifying third is a great accomplishment for an eleven-year-old," Coach Drew told PJ. "You should be very proud."
"Yeah, PJ," Erik put in, "that's a medal position."
"How does that work, Erik?" Jack asked.
Erik, who was rather proud of all the swimming knowledge he had picked up as PJ's roommate, assumed a professorial air and explained, "In the finals, only the first three places get medals. Gold, silver, and bronze. The fourth, fifth, and sixth place finishers get ribbons."
"I get it," Jack said. "Does that mean PJ will get a medal?"
Travis answered him. "It'll depend on how he finishes in the final. Qualifying in third position gives him a good lane assignment, so that's an advantage. He'll be in one of the center lanes, away from the sidewall. There's chop and turbulence in the end lanes. But there's one thing you have to keep in mind, PJ," he said, turning to look at him. "Some of those kids that qualified behind you were in other events today. They may have been holding back, just swimming fast enough to qualify. Some of them are gonna do a better time in the final tonight."
PJ heard all this, but he was not really listening. Since the wonderful realization that he'd qualified third in his event, there had been but one thought in his mind. Swim my heart out tonight and win a medal for Jack!
Erik, who'd been nodding knowingly as Travis talked, now looked at him and said, "The next job is to get you qualified, Trav. Are you gonna try to qualify in first place, or will you hold back?"
Travis grinned. "I'm not taking any chances. I'm gonna swim pretty hard in the heats. I may hold off just a little, but not too much. I want to qualify first or second."
Jack looked at his watch. "Time to get you boys back. Erik, you've bird-dogged seats for me often enough. Drew an' I will do it this time. You take these two off and make `em rest for awhile. We'll meet you at the pool." As Jack led them to the rental car, PJ stayed close to him, and the tall man put an arm around his shoulders. After the spaghetti meal and all the morning's excitement, PJ was feeling very relaxed. Sitting next to Jack on the drive back to campus, in fact, he nearly fell asleep.
* * *
While
the two men went over to the Field House to hold seats, Erik and PJ took Travis
up to their room where Erik made his two charges lie down. Like Travis, he
was from the
It was Erik's voice. PJ snapped awake with a start, not really sure where he was. Frantically he patted his clothes and the top of his bed, checking for wetness. He saw Travis and Erik looking at him. "Guess I took a nap," he said, embarrassed.
"That's good, PJ," Travis told him. "You probably needed the rest after that race you swam."
"Time to get Travis to the pool, PJ," Erik said. PJ got his swim bag, leaving his team Speedo to dry and instead taking the colorful practice one Jack had given him. "I'm ready." The boys walked slowly over to the Field House, with Erik assuring them, "There's no rush. We have plenty of time."
The locker room was just as crowded for the afternoon events as it had been in the morning. PJ went to study the heat sheets posted on the bulletin board. "You're the top entry time, Trav," he called over his shoulder. "Seeded first in the last heat!"
They went out to warm up. PJ found a lane for Travis and joined him in some easy kicking and pulling to help him get loose. Then Travis did some starts to get used to the blocks. They finished by doing a few turns together at the far end, then dried off and went to see Erik and Coach Drew, who were sitting in the same place where they'd been for the morning events. "Where's Jack?" PJ asked, peering around anxiously.
Coach Drew smiled. "Word got around. He's off somewhere having his picture taken with your headmaster."
"And signing more autographs," Erik said, shaking his head. "Ya' prob'ly already know that you're the top seed, Trav."
When Travis talked with his coach about the times he wanted to hit, Coach Drew cautioned, "Don't use everything up in the qualifying. Hold back a bit. You can go for broke tonight. And remember, no nervous neddies!" He looked at PJ. "Keep him loose. Don't let him get too wound up."
"Good luck, Trav," Erik told him.
PJ took Travis to the same spot where they'd sat that morning and explained, "This is our good luck spot." Once he was sure Travis was comfortable, he quietly said to his friend, "Younger brothers always believe in their older brothers. I know you're gonna do just fine, Trav."
The lanky boy grinned at him. "Thanks, PJ."
"Even if you do suck at Flight Simulator," PJ added with a straight face.
"Wait a minute," Travis protested. "I did land safely once."
"Luck."
Both boys laughed.
The meet dragged along with heat after heat, just as it had in the morning. To keep Travis focused, PJ made him get up and cheer for all the Gordonsville swimmers. "It'd be a lot easier if your team had some other kids here," PJ told him, "but since you don't, and since you're staying with us, you'll just have to be an honorary cheerleader for our guys today." Travis laughed and cheered even louder than PJ did.
When the breaststroke was called, PJ went up with Travis just as Travis had done for him. Since Travis was in the last heat, he sat in the last row of chairs. They watched the first four heats go off one by one. "No surprises, Travis," PJ whispered to him as he checked the times. "It's going just as we planned." He took Travis' sweat suit and handed him his goggles. "Good luck, Big Brother. Show `em how good you are!"
Travis shook his hand and went to the starting block in the center lane while PJ crossed his fingers. "You can do it, Trav!" he whispered.
The starter fired his gun and the last heat went off. Travis got a beautiful start, took the lead immediately, and never gave it up. PJ's heart thrilled for his friend. His big brother was just terrific! His breaststroke was so fast and smooth! PJ checked Travis' split on the scoreboard as his friend pushed off into the third lap. Travis was right on his pace! "Go Travis!" PJ yelled.
He cheered some more as his friend sprinted down the last lap and touched the wall, winning the heat. As soon as he could, PJ ran over to kneel by the block. "Way to go, Trav," he said delightedly, looking down at his friend, who was stuggling to catch his breath. "You're first qualifier! It's just the time you wanted!" He helped Travis out of the water and gave him his towel. "That's your best, isn't it?"
Travis grinned, eyes glowing with excitement. "Sure is! An' I'm gonna do even better tonight. I know I can!"
They went to where Coach Drew was leaning over the railing, beaming with pride. He gave Travis a hug, and then Jack and Erik were there, shaking his hand.
"We got a snack all set for you, Travis," Jack said. You and PJ hurry and get dressed. We'll meet you guys outside."
As fast as they could, PJ and Travis got into their street clothes, packed up their swim bags, and met up with Erik in the corridor. Upstairs, Jack, with Coach Drew beside him, was signing autographs. When he finally broke away, Erik led everyone down to the sports fields and into the baseball dugout where PJ came so often to be by himself. "This is a nice quiet spot where no one will bother us," Erik explained.
Jack smiled and gave Erik's back a pat before he and Coach Drew unpacked a big shopping bag loaded with takeout boxes of food. There was lasagna for Travis and Erik, pasta salad for PJ, with Coke's all around. They all chatted happily, congratulating Travis on his race and talking about the finals. "I know I'm goin' even faster tonight," Travis kept saying.
I'm gonna go faster tonight, too, PJ told himself. I'm gonna win a medal for Jack!
While they were eating, Jack
stood by the front of the dugout, staring at the infield, which still had a few
patches of snow on it. "Hard to believe you still got snow up here while
we're playing ball in warm weather down in
"How are you doin' in your exhibition games, Jack?" PJ asked curiously. It occurred to him how little Jack ever talked about himself.
"Yeah," Erik chimed in, "how's it goin', Jack? We've been worrying about PJ an' Trav so much, no one's asked about you. And what you're doin' is really a big deal!"
Jack smiled at him. "Not really. What PJ and Travis, and you, too, Erik--what all of you are doing in your tournaments and meets--is just as big. But I'm doin' okay. I'm in great shape. PJ can testify to that! And so far I'm hitting well. That's always my biggest concern. I was a little disappointed that some of our players didn't show up in better shape. It's frustrating to see good, young ballplayers not make the most of their talent. It's like they just don't seem to care about winning. Luckily, we don't have many of those."
Travis nodded glumly. "Tell me about it," he said. "That school team of mine . . . at least it isn't that way in the summer! Our age-group team is all good kids who work hard!"
Jack nodded. "It makes a big difference. Attitude, mental preparation: they're a huge part of sports."
"Have you played the Phillies in exhibition yet?" Travis asked.
Jack laughed. "Boy did we! They beat us, too. We were trying out one of our Minor League pitchers and the poor guy got shelled! I had a good time though. I have some good friends on the Phillies."
"We'd better let these boys get back to their room so they can rest," Coach Drew said, checking his watch. He looked up. "We'll be back around five or so with something light for you to eat." And Jack added, "Try to stay loose, guys. Don't forget about your races, stay focused, but don't wind up too tight, either. Just take it easy. Keep your concentration."
Erik waved a hand at the two men. "No problem. I've got it all worked out for these guys, based on the latest stuff in sports psychology! I'll take care of `em."
Jack chuckled and told Travis' coach, "Sounds like everything's in good hands. Let's get out of their way."
After the men had left, the three friends walked back to the House and Erik led them up to the room. "Come on now," he said. "You guys are supposed to be resting. Don't mess up my schedule." He made them lie down, went to his desk where he checked some notes he'd made, and said, "Okay, PJ, you race first tonight, so we do you first."
He had PJ lie face down on his bed and started to rub his roommate's back and shoulders. "Travis, you get his legs." The two boys rubbed and massaged PJ for awhile and then switched places. PJ could tell the Travis was better at it than Erik. He liked the feel of the older boy's gentle hands. Stretching comfortably, he said, "That's nice."
"This is good for you, PJ," Travis told him. "Just keep on relaxing."
As soon as Erik was satisfied that PJ was loose and relaxed, he made Travis lie down. "Help me, PJ."
PJ started rubbing Travis' legs, surprised to find how wiry and strong they were. He'd always thought Travis looked a little skinny, but the older boy's muscles felt like ropes. After a short time, Erik switched off with him and he did Travis' back and shoulders. "I'm not as good as you are at this, Trav."
"It feels great, PJ," Travis assured him.
When they were done, Erik made PJ lie down again. He drew up a chair, sat on it, and held up a book. "Okay. This is one you don't know about, Roomie. I borrowed it from the library when you weren't looking. I guess you missed it `cause the title is misleading. It's called The Nebraska Kid, and it's about a boy around our age who wants to learn how to play baseball. I'm gonna read the first chapter to you guys an' I don't want you to say a word until I'm finished. Then we'll review exactly how you're supposed to do your race tonight--what your goals are and what splits you should hit, that kind of stuff. Then I'll read another chapter. Here we go." Erik began to read:
"To twelve-year-old Sammy Logan it seemed like everyone was going to play baseball but him. At school, the other boys talked about playing catch with older brothers or going to the batting cages with their dads. Every one of them was trying out for a Little League team. But Sammy didn't have a dad to practice batting with. His town of Grover, Nebraska, didn't even have a batting cage! He didn't have any older brothers either. In fact, his parents were divorced, they'd both left him when he was a baby, and he'd been raised by his grandmother. So Sammy had to learn about baseball from what he saw on TV and from his Topps bubblegum cards. . ."
* * *
CONCLUSION OF INSTALLMENT THIRTEEN
Editor Paul K. Scott's e-mail: paulkdoctor@gmail.com