The Winning Stroke (11 page)

“Pie à la mode,” he said. “My favorite.” He didn't
waste time helping himself to a large scoop of ice cream and a sizable wedge of pie.

When they had finished eating, Jerry came right to the point. “So where did I mess up?” he asked.

“Didn't the coach say he'd go over it with you?” asked Tanya.

“He did,” said Jerry. “But I figured the sooner I knew the better.”

“You put too much pressure on yourself,” said Tony.

“During the race?” asked Jerry.

“No, now!” said Tony. “You have to learn to relax once in a while.”

“Leave the swimming in the pool, Jerry,” said Tanya. “Believe me, the coach will go over every detail. It's incredible how
he remembers these things.”

“So, you aren't going to give me any clues?” Jerry asked.

“Not a one,” said Tony.

“All right, I want my pie back,” said Jerry.

“What?” cried two voices at the same time.

“You heard me,” said Jerry, trying to keep from smiling.

“You know what?” said Tanya. “We
ought
to give it back to him. You know how?”

Tony pointed with his finger toward his open mouth, his tongue hanging out.

She nodded.

“You're both disgusting,” said Jerry. “But let's finish off the ice cream anyhow.”

When Jerry finally found himself alone with Coach Fulton at the pool, he discovered that none of his mistakes were big ones.

“You were thrown by the false start,” said the coach. “And your next start was a little weaker. Swimming isn't like tennis.
If you make a mistake the first time, you don't have to be cautious the next time. Go for it with as much zip as if it were
the very beginning—because it is.”

Jerry hated to admit it, but he knew the coach was right.

“Another thing,” Coach Fulton went on. “You're listening to the announcer too much—instead of swimming your own race. You
know about pacing. We've talked a lot about it. But you rushed headlong into the last two laps and threw away a lot of what
you had gained. You might even have won that race, even after a slightly weak start.”

I might have won! Jerry thought.

“But don't beat on yourself too much,” said the coach. “You were a little rough on the turns, too. And you still need to work
on your breathing. Remember that exercise I taught you? Have you been practicing it?”

Jerry had to admit he hadn't. Breathing was something you did naturally, he'd thought. Why waste time on something like that?

“Listen, I want you to go all the way back to the basics,” said the coach. “Do your land drills, your kicking drills, your
turns, your breathing exercises, all of it. And I don't want you to spend a lot of time practicing the crawl by doing laps.
There's a lot more for you to learn.”

“There is?” asked Jerry.

“You still haven't swum a backstroke race yet,” said the coach. “And what about your breaststroke? And your butterfly? If
you're going to become an all-around swimmer, you have get those down, too.”

Jerry stared at him wide-eyed.

“And you have to be an all-around swimmer before
you can even think of really making a mark in this sport. You have the potential to be a great swimmer. Don't waste it.”

The coach moved on to a group of girls who were practicing their flip turns.

“That's it, push!” the coach shouted.

But all Jerry heard was “
You have the potential to be a great swimmer
”

The words were carved indelibly in his mind.

12

The coach's words rang in Jerry's ears throughout the weekend. By Monday, he realized he had to learn to do everything—and
he had to learn to do it well.

He worked out a schedule of private training in addition to team practice and showed it to the coach. It included an extra
half hour of laps after regular practice. He knew the coach did paperwork in his office each day after the team had left,
so he figured he could use the pool without any trouble. When Coach Fulton approved the plan, after making some changes, Jerry
posted it on his bedroom door. It was the first thing he saw in the morning and the last thing at night.

When he arrived at the pool after classes, he usually saw Tony or Tanya—or any number of others on the team he'd gotten to
know better. Some of
them were really helpful. But everybody had work to do, and Jerry was no different.

One day when he thought everyone else had left for the day, he found himself doing the breaststroke in the middle of lane
three with Lars on one side and Wayne on the other. The two of them had started out after him and had crept up on him as he
counted out his measured number of strokes.

Jerry made believe he didn't know they were there until they were right behind him, a stroke away. He stopped suddenly, dipped
beneath the water, and backpedaled for a few seconds. Then he came up behind them, swooped forward, and started splashing
them with an exaggerated butterfly-type stroke he made up on the spot.

“Watch it!” shouted Lars. “Whale alert!”

“Thar she blows!” cried Wayne, splashing water in Jerry's direction.

The three of them kicked and splashed at each other until, exhausted from laughing, they crawled out of the pool. Then they
laid high fives all around and Jerry knew he had two more buddies on the team.

After a few days of practicing the basics, Jerry felt he had gained a lot on the two strokes that were newest to him, the
breast and the butterfly. He didn't even feel foolish doing some of the land drills that helped to strengthen his kicking
and breathing.

Once, after a really strenuous session practicing the butterfly, he said to Tanya, “You know, when I see little butterflies
dipping in and out in our back-yard garden, they seem so light and feathery. But that is one tough stroke! I mean, I've watched
you, and you know what? You can be real fierce out there!”

“You know what?” she said, smiling. “I've watched you, too—and so can you!”

“So when's your next meet?” David asked as they waited for the school bus one morning.

“A week from Saturday,” Jerry answered.

“And?” David asked.

“And what?”

“And what events are you going to be in?”

Jerry shook his head. “Too soon to tell.”

David wouldn't give up. “You going to swim in the five hundred again?”

“I told you, I don't know,” Jerry insisted. “Besides, what difference does it make? As long as I help out the team.”

“Yeah, sure,” said David. He didn't sound convinced.

“Listen, small fry,” said Jerry. “You'd better watch out I don't feed you to the sharks. I meant what I said. I just want
to do okay in any event I'm in. Sure, I'd like to win. But I'm still a long way behind some of the others. I'm just going
to do the best I can.”

Jerry saw his younger brother staring at him. This time it looked like he had gotten his message across.

Gradually, the coach let Jerry practice his crawl a little more each time.

“Your armwork is a little strange,” said the coach. “But it works for you. You have the kind of stroke that holds up for the
long haul. I don't think I'm going to train you for the sprints. There's a whole bunch of kids who can do that well already.
Just keep up the good work at practice. How do you feel about your other strokes?”

“Pretty good,” said Jerry. “The butterfly and the breaststroke seem a little easier now.”

“Good,” said Coach Fulton. “And the backstroke? Comfortable?”

“Sort of,” Jerry said, mumbling a little.

“It's an important stroke to have down,” said Coach Fulton. “Keep working on it.”

So Jerry stuck to his routine. He didn't skip one moment when he was supposed to be practicing the backstroke. He was determined
to master it once and for all—and to be good enough to swim that stroke competitively.

At first, he kept this to himself. But after a while he decided, Hey, I know the kids on the team well enough by now. I can
talk to them about it.

So he did.

“Maybe it's because of the pause,” suggested Lars. “You know, the way you have to just hold for a second at the end of a complete
stroke of both arms. You don't really do that with any other stroke, so it seems funny.”

“You're not afraid of sinking, are you?” asked Wayne. “Some kids have a real fear of going under on their backs.”

Ace Willoughby offered this idea. “Just imagine that you're the leader of the pack and everyone
wants to be able to see your ugly mug. Can't do that when you're facedown in the water.”

That broke everyone in the locker room up. No really good pointers followed.

Jerry decided that he could learn a lot by keeping an eye on the best backstrokers on the team. There was no doubt that Lars
and Wayne were on top of that list. Number three, he discovered from checking out the season's record, was Tony Kendrix. There
was no way he'd beat out those guys. But he had to go after a spot on the backstroke roster. He had to make his mark on the
toughest part of swimming for him.

Tony never said anything about all the work Jerry was doing on the backstroke. He was willing to do laps with him or to check
out his drills on every stroke. Mostly, it seemed to Jerry, he liked working out on the freestyle.

“I'm not interested in the five hundred,” Tony confessed. “I mean, I'd do it if the coach wanted me to. But I think I'm better
on the shorter distances.”

“Like the fifty freestyle?” asked Jerry.

“Uh huh,” said Tony. “And one hundred and the two.”

“Freestyle?”

“Right,” Tony nodded. “And the backstroke. I think that's where I can really do the team some good.”

Jerry didn't say anything about that. Deep down, he was glad Tony wasn't interested in the five hundred. But he hated the
idea of competing with him in the backstroke. Tony had been a pal from the beginning. He might have quit swimming altogether
if it hadn't been for Tanya and Tony. And now he might have to go directly up against one of them.

13

The Wednesday before the final meet of the regular season, the coach made an announcement.

“We have a two-hour practice scheduled for today,” he said. “We'll all go through some drills on the four basic strokes during
the first hour. Then, I want to devote the second hour to just the backstroke.”

The backstroke! Has he been reading my mind? Jerry wondered.

“It's one area where a lot of you need some work,” Coach Fulton went on. “But not everyone is going to be doing it during
the meet. So, just the names I read off, please stay, while the rest of you can take off. Okay, for extra practice on the
backstroke, I want to see the following—”

He went down the list alphabetically. Within seconds, Jerry knew that both he and Tony were among
the group putting in the extra practice on the one stroke that was a real challenge for both of them. And so was Tanya. And,
of course, so were Lars and Wayne.

Tony gave him the thumbs-up sign when his name was called. Jerry smiled and gave one back to his pal.

“Okay, everyone,” said Coach Fulton when the second hour began. “Let's all get into the pool and form lines in the six lanes.
Everyone, boys and girls. And mix it up. I don't want all of one or another.”