State Swim Meet

John was a really good swimmer in high school; however, John was also swimming in the shadow of Mike.

Mike and his parents moved from California into our school district for Mike’s freshman year of high school. John was in the eighth grade, a year behind Mike. Mike proceeded to win his first state championship in the 500 as a freshman in 1999. When John was a freshman in 2000 and finished fourth in the 500, Mike was in the same event winning his second state championship. In 2001 when John was a sophomore and finished second in the 500, Mike won his third state championship. In 2002 Mike won his fourth state championship in the 500 and set the state record. (4:29.06) John finished second again.

This isn’t a story about good and evil. Mike wasn’t John’s evil nemesis. Mike was simply older, bigger, taller, faster, and had more years of swimming experience. Mike was a good guy and liked by all. It was likewise with Mike’s parents; they were a delightful couple and we enjoyed spending time with them at swim meets. The same could be said of all the distance swimmers and their families that we met over the years.

Perhaps this is a story about deferred dreams or about waiting your turn. When John became a senior and Mike had graduated from high school it seemed as if it might finally be John’s turn to win an individual title at the high school state meet. I assume John wanted a state championship. I know that as a father I was secretly hoping that he could win one. John had already won a fair number of state championships as an age group swimmer, but there is something special about a high school championship.

The thing is we never talked about winning. When we sent John off to a swim meet we simply told him to have fun. After the swim meet we talked about swimming a good time. We talked about swimming a smart race, a good race, but we never talked about winning. The word “win” was nearly taboo.

When it came time for John’s final high school state swim meet I REALLY wanted to break my own rule and encourage John to swim fast, win the race, and go for the state record. I held internal debates and dialogues with myself for weeks on the pros and cons. When the day of the meet finally arrived and John was headed out the door I still hadn’t made up my mind what to do, so all I said was, “Have fun!”, and spent the rest of the evening wondering if I’d done the right thing.

John’s swim club, which is a completely separate entity from the high school swim team, prepares the swimmers for one big meet in the fall and one big meet in the spring. These are known as “shave and taper” meets. The meet will be the most important meet the swimmer has qualified for. The swimmer will shave every hair off of their arms, legs, torsos, and heads (guys only) to reduce drag in the water. The swimmers will also taper off their workouts so they are rested for the big meet. The hope is to swim a great time in the big meet that will qualify you for an even more elite meet. Kids in local meets are trying to qualify for age group state; age group state swimmers try to qualify for regional meets; the swimmers at regional meets are trying to get into nationals, and the folks at nationals are trying to be #1 in the country and qualify for the Olympic trials.

The point of all of this is simply to say that the high school state meet was not a major goal in the eyes of the Dynamo Swim Club and John’s club coach. All of the year-round swimmers know this, but the world at-large doesn’t know this. John had been swimming hard workouts right up to the day before the state swim meet. He wasn’t shaved, he wasn’t rested, and there had been no taper whatsoever. If John was going to win the high school state swim meet, he was going to have to do it while tired and hairy. It was conceivable that a lesser swimmer who was rested and shaved could beat John. It happens all the time in low level meets that advanced swimmers simply “train through”.

When Jean and I were sitting in the stands at the state swim meet, Mike’s parents were seated just a few seats over. Several parents came by to say that they hoped John could break Mike’s state record. With Mike’s folks there I was embarrassed to have people talk that way, but I was secretly hoping the same thing. Other parents asked if John was going to take a shot at the record, and I truthfully said, “I have no idea!” I don’t care who you are; that’s funny. I am the dad and I have no idea what my kid is going to try to do.

I may have been uninformed, but I wasn’t ignorant. Or maybe I was. I knew that the state record was 4:29.06. I’d worked out on a scrap of paper what the cumulative time would be at every 50 yards throughout the 500 yard race. Every time John would hit the electronic timing pad at the end of the lane I would know if he was ahead or behind the pace for the state record.

When the time finally came for John to step up on the blocks for the 500 I was a bundle of nerves. I so wanted him to be brave and take a shot at the record, and I felt guilty for wishing it. I also wanted him to get off the blocks safely and not be disqualified for a false start. The start is the most nerve-wracking time of the race.

The gun went off (They actually use a starting gun. It’s barbaric. Civilized folks use beepers these days.) and John went out fast leaving the field behind. I immediately wondered if he was going for the record. Of course I wondered. I had all the dadgum splits written down. At the first 50, and each 50 thereafter, I compared the time on the clock to the time on my sheet. John was ahead of the record splits, but not by enough to make me comfortable.  I wouldn't be comfortable until the race was over.

I kept comparing times on the clock to those on the sheet, and barely had time to watch John actually swim the race. I’d whisper to Jean how he was progressing, but I didn’t want anyone to know that I was keeping track. I was still embarrassed that I cared so much. When it got to the final 100 yards I was tired of watching the clock and the sheet. I realized I was missing my son’s final high school swim meet. I wanted to imprint the image of his swim in my brain.

John’s stroke was long and smooth. He covered long distances with each arm pull. He attacked the walls and his flip turn was so fast you could hardly see it. He held a tight taper coming out from the wall underwater and came up a good ways out from the wall. The cadence was quick, but economical. He was just plain fast. John had a powerful upper body and it was a thing of beauty to watch his back muscles do their job, stroke after stroke. Towards the end of the race his back turned pink, as it always did, from the heat being generated by his muscles. It was an exercise of athletic perfection. It was awesome to watch; simply awesome.

When John finished the race the second-place swimmer had just turned at the far end of the pool. John was nearly a full pool-length ahead when many races are determined by hundredths of a second. The time read 4:28.18, which became the pool record, and the high school state record. Coach Creed went crazy, the team went crazy, the parents went crazy, and I enjoyed watching them do what I wanted to do. My head and heart were going ape-shit with glee, but I simply applauded, accepted congratulatory handshakes from other parents, and gave Jean a hug. I knew that there were good losers, and good winners, and I wanted to be a good “winner”, even though I actually hadn’t won a thing. I was simply the father of the winner.

It turned out that John intentionally took a shot at the record. He was checking the clock after the turn every 50 yards as he swam the race. He knew exactly what kind of splits he needed and knew he was on pace throughout the race. At the end of the race, knowing he was on pace, he simply put his head down and went for it. Way to go, man.

I wish he’d told me ahead of time so I didn’t have to suffer needlessly.