The Winning Stroke (12 page)

Usually, they were kept apart. Jerry wondered what the coach was doing. They weren't going to be entered in the same events.
Why mix them up?

He didn't have to wait long for an answer.

The coach moved around and switched people in different lanes. “You, over there. Paul, get behind Jillian. Tony, move into
the lane on your right, in front of the group.

“You all have your own strengths and weaknesses,” Coach Fulton explained. “I want you to take a good look at someone you haven't
really noticed, probably, and see what you can learn from him or
her. Get yourselves ready, and let me see you do fiftys at five-second intervals. And watch. Open your eyes and your minds.”

Jerry couldn't believe it. He was right behind Tanya. What was he going to learn from her? He watched her all the time, and
it hadn't really helped him yet, he thought.

Tanya was fourth in line. After the first three swimmers had taken their place at the end of the pool and pushed off, it was
her turn.

Jerry looked at her closely. Little wisps of gold hair poked out from under her bathing cap as she stood for one moment with
her back to him, facing the edge of the pool. Her arms were at her sides, her shoulders gently sloped, her head erect.

She looks really comfortable, Jerry thought. Really relaxed.

Then, she quickly positioned herself for the start and pushed off with a real spring.

Wow! She really takes off! thought Jerry. Or maybe it just seems like she does because she's so relaxed before that. I bet
that's where she gets all her energy, from that little pause. After that, the rest of it
is ice cream. Maybe that's what she's been doing all along—and I just never paid attention.

He tried it when it came time for him to take his turn. He couldn't let go of all tension completely, but he was a little
looser for a moment before push-off. From then on, he knew that he was doing better. He felt that he had really gotten one
clue that would help him master the backstroke once and for all.

When each lane had gone through two rotations, Coach Fulton blew his whistle.

“Okay, everyone out of the pool,” he said. “Take seats for a second while I set up some trial races. Okay, in lane one I want
—”

He went through two girls races — a fifty-yard and a one hundred — before he came to the boys. Tanya was the clear winner
in her race. Jerry was pleased for her and delighted that he had found out her “secret weapon.”

“Now, we'll try a hundred-yard boys backstroke.”

He's not even starting with the sprint, Jerry realized. He must have that one all decided.

“Let's have Lars Morrison in lane one, Jerry Grayson in lane two, Tony Kendrix in lane three, Wayne Cabot in lane four, Paul
Prescott in lane five, and
Sammy Wu in lane six. Move it, we don't have all day.”

There was no time to get psyched up for the race. Jerry guessed that the coach was using this trial race to decide who would
swim this event on Saturday. After all the work he'd put into it, he wanted to make the cut. Didn't he deserve some recognition
for all that practice?

“Is everyone ready?”

They stood in the shallow end of the pool, all facing away from the water. “On your mark!”

That's when Jerry usually tensed up. Instead, he tried Tanya's method. He dangled his wrists in the cool water and shook off
some of his nervousness. He tried to let all the pressure drain out through his fingertips, to let all the tension simply
disappear.

“Get set!”

Now it was time to position himself — and he did.

“Go!”

For the first time since he started this whole swimming thing, Jerry felt comfortable doing the backstroke. He ran quickly
through his list of do's and don'ts. Everything checked off.

It was amazing. He used to feel a little like an
ocean liner forging its way across the raging sea. Now, he felt more like a sleek sailboat skimming along the top of the waves
with the current. His arms were great, flexible, outstretched paddles. His legs were synchronized flippers, propelling him
along.

There was no problem about staying in his own lane now. Everything felt right as he approached the first turn. His outstretched
fingers touched the side of the pool and he went into action. Down went his head, and over went his body in a somersault,
and then came the twist back into position. A quick push-off with his feet and off he went, back down his lane.

Jerry knew from the splashing around him that he was in a race, but he paid no attention to who was on either side. And, without
an announcer over the loudspeaker, there was no outside information. This was fine with him. He could concentrate on his own
performance.

After the third turn, the splashing got more intense as the six swimmers poured it on. This was the final lap. It was the
last chance to forge ahead and make a run for it.

Jerry drew on all his resources. His body had been well trained by now to perform the backstroke. But
more than that, he was in excellent condition from practicing regularly for the last few months — and from years of sports
training before that.

His arms reached farther back than he ever thought they would stretch. His legs kept up a perfectly synchronized kick from
the thighs down. His speed increased until — at last — he touched the edge of the pool. The race was over.

Usually, when he'd finished doing the backstroke, Jerry felt a great sense of relief. But now it was a lot like the end of
a sprint. He was exhausted and excited all at the same time.

But how did he do? Where had he placed? flashed through his mind.

“Good work, Lars,” said the coach. “You, too, Jerry. You almost overtook him in that last lap. Wayne, you got off to a slow
start, but you made up for it and came in third. Tony, you were close at fourth. Sammy, you were fifth. And Paul, you were
right on his heels. You all did fine. Now, let me see the next group of boys.”

Second! That was the best he'd ever done in the backstroke. And he'd gone up against such veteran swimmers as Wayne — and
Tony.

What if the coach put him in for the hundred backstroke instead of Tony? After all, Tony'd placed fourth. Why couldn't Wayne
have swum a really bad race? Or even Lars? This was exactly what he didn't want to happen.

While these thoughts were running through his mind, Tony came over to him and clapped him on the back.

“Way to go, champ!” he said. “They're going to have to refill the pool when you get through!”

“What do you mean?” asked Jerry.

“You're drying up the water with all that heat you're pouring on,” said Tony. “I'd be jealous if I wasn't so proud of you.
With all the work you've put in, you deserve it.”

Here was Tony, possibly eliminated from the one event he wanted to do well in, congratulating him. It was as if Jerry had
beaten him out for a slot in the batting order, but Tony didn't mind. After all, it was for the good of the swimming team.

For the first time, Jerry had a sense of what that really meant.

14

The first thing Jerry remembered about that Saturday morning was the sound of the “heat bug” outside his open window. Mom
always said that meant it was going to be a real scorcher.

“Can we go swimming today?” asked Lucie, sloshing her soggy cereal back and forth with her spoon.

“Don't be a dummy,” said David. “We're all going to the pool, but we're not going swimming. We're going to watch Jerry in
the swimming meet.”

“Are you going to be in that long, long race again, Jerry?” Lucie asked.

“I don't know,” he said. “I'll have to see what the coach decides when I get there.”

He couldn't tell her how much he wanted to swim in more than just one event. Placing in one of the top three positions in
a number of races was how he
could really help the team. After all, it was the final score that counted, wasn't it?

“You kids finish up,” said Mr. Grayson. “Jerry, I'll run you over to the bus when it's time. Why don't you straighten out
your room meanwhile?”

“I thought I'd brush Yogi,” Jerry said.

“That's what I was afraid of,” said Mr. Grayson, smiling at him. “That dog is going to be down to bare skin if you brush her
any more!”

“A bald Yogi!” cried Lucie through a mouthful of cereal.

Jerry could hear her giggling as he went up to his room.

It wasn't that much of a mess, but it would help pass the time to clean it up.

First he picked up all his clothes that were draped over everything — his dresser knobs, desk, chair, reading lamp, bedposts,
and bookcase. He stashed some of them in drawers, put some in his laundry bag, and shoved most of the remaining pile in his
closet.

Curled up on her dog pillow in the corner, Yogi watched all this activity with a curious eye.

“A place for everything and everything in its
place,” said Jerry. “That's what Mom always says. Well, it's all out of sight, anyhow”

He was about to close the closet door when he noticed his baseball glove on the top shelf. He reached up and ran a finger
along its supple leather surface.

The one touch was enough to trigger a flood of memories. He really loved baseball. And he still planned to play in a lot of
games. But who said he had to limit himself to just one sport? And who said he always had to be on the school team? Same as
swimming, now that he knew more about it. As long as he gave all he had whenever he played in any sport, that's what really
counted.

With that thought in mind, he finished his cleaning up and called downstairs, “Ready!”

On the bus to the meet, the coach read off the roster.

Jerry listened as Tanya's name was called out for the hundred-yard backstroke, the hundred-yard butterfly, and the two-hundred-yard
freestyle relay.

“Wow, you're really gonna be doing some swimming today,” Jerry whispered to her across the aisle to where she was sitting.

When Coach Fulton finished with the girls, he called out the names for the boys events.

Tony was scheduled for the fifty-yard freestyle, the hundred-yard freestyle — and the hundred-yard backstroke. The coach had
decided to put him in after all — along with Lars and Wayne. So, despite Jerry's showing in that practice race on Wednesday,
he still wasn't good enough at the backstroke after all.

But there was another surprise in store for him. He heard his name called out for the fifty-yard freestyle as well as the
five-hundred-yard freestyle.

When Coach Fulton had finished reading the list, the bus arrived at the Weaver Middle School pool, where the meet was to be
held. As they got off, the coach pulled Jerry to one side.

“You're probably wondering how I picked you for the sprint, aren't you?” he said, walking toward the locker room with the
rest of the team. “I know you don't think of yourself as a sprinter, but we need some help in that race. And I think it'll
give you a good chance to warm up before the five hundred. So, don't hold back, give it everything you've got.”

Jerry thanked the coach and ran off to get suited up.

In the locker room, he took some good-natured ribbing from some of the other guys.

“From fifty to five hundred, you've got it all, slugger!” said Lars.

“Yeah,” said Sammy Wu. “You can take a nap in between races.”

There was some, good advice, too.

“Watch out for the sprint,” said Tony. “Even though it's just fifty yards, it's a lot longer than it sounds. So pace yourself
a little so you have something left for the finish.”

“Thanks, Tony,” said Jerry. “And good luck in all your races. I'm glad you're in the backstroke. Some day I hope I'm good
enough for that one, too.”

“You're good enough,” said Tony. “I think the coach just wants 'old reliables' in there during this meet. You'll get your
chance sometime.”

As they came out of the locker room into the pool area, Jerry got a quick adrenaline rush. It was becoming a familiar sensation.

The public address system blared out a welcome
and then went on to set the stage for the competition ahead.

“
This is the last meet of the season for these two teams. The Bolton Blues bring with them a strong record of five to two,
having won their last three meets with outstanding scores. The host team, the Weaver Beavers, have an identical record of
five to two but have won their last four meets. So we can expect some exciting events out of these two teams
.”

This is where the flip-flops inside my stomach usually take over, Jerry thought. But as he stood for the singing of the national
anthem, he was surprisingly calm. Maybe he didn't even have to be standing in the water for Tanya's “moment of relaxation”
to work for him.

“
Our first event will be the girls fifty-yard freestyle
—”

“
The next event will be the girls one-hundred-yard breaststroke
—”

One by one, the races were run.

Tanya won first place in the hundred-yard backstroke and took second in the hundred-yard butterfly.

Lars took first place in the hundred-yard backstroke,
Tony came in second, and Wayne finished third for a clean sweep by the Blues.