by Max Howell
So six months after his marriage his swimmers came out onto the pool and broke up his reverie, and the frown disappeared from his face. He lost himself in his work, as he always did. There was peace there. He knew his job and his personal strengths and weaknesses. There were occasional problems with his athletes, but the same problems recurred and he would do what he could to resolve them. But he could always walk away, hide himself, in his research and his books.
His reputation as a scholar-coach was world-wide. He published a book, Swimming, which rivalled the works of ‘Doc’ Counsilman at Indiana and Forbes Carlile of Australia. It was a scientific exposition on swimming, embodying the latest research in kinesiology, motor learning, sport psychology, sport sociology and exercise physiology. Everything was applied to the sport of swimming. He also gave numerous papers and had scientific articles on “The Swimming Start”, “Force-Time Graphs and Their Application to Swimming”, “The Application of the Principles of Physics to the Crawl Stroke”, “Personality of Athletes”, “Mental Versus Physical Practice and Its Applicability for Elite Athletes”, “Disjunctive Reaction Time and Swimming”, “Endurance versus Sprint training”, and so on. His articles were eagerly digested by coaches throughout the world. He felt safe with his research. His teaching, also, fulfilled many of his needs. He could see young people mature, and he endeavoured to motivate and inspire. Slowly but surely he came to the conclusion that his own contribution was not what he once thought it might be, that the key was the motivation of the individual, and the success of external motivation, like himself, was limited to a minority. But he never lost faith when he came to this conclusion, as he rationalised his efforts in that if successful in behaviour modification of a single person then all his work was justified.
After his training that day, he went back to his apartment. He had been married a little more than six months, and the strain on him and his wife was enormous. He resolved, as he opened the door, as he had done so many times before, though he was more determined now, that he would try harder. It was not that Mark was unkind to her, or Lisa to him. They were simply not in love, and the friendship that they felt for one another was dissipated as their sexual life was so obviously a failure.
As he walked into his apartment, he called out, “Lisa, I’m home,” and he sat down on the sofa and put his legs up and opened up the latest Sports Illustrated that lay on the glass table. “Lisa, I’m back.”
There was no answer, so he went into the kitchen and the main bedroom. On the pillow was an envelope, with MARK printed on the outside. He tore it open, and with a feeling of impending disaster read the comments.
My darling Mark,
By the time you read this I should be on my way to San Diego. I have talked to Dad about all this and he now agrees the marriage was a horrible mistake. We all loved you that much that we thought we could change you, whereas we all know that what happened to you years ago with your girl in Australia left emotional scars deeper than any of us ever imagined.
I know now that you never did love me and you never can love me. It has nothing to do with me. I can see that in a way I forced you into the marriage. I guess we all just took it for granted. Good old Lisa, and good old Mark. Don’t they go well together, like chalk and cheese?
Well, I guess we did. But I did not reckon on a third person, one who was ethereal, that I could not grab hold of, and shake. It is not possible to fight a ghost, and I am both weary and defeated. Napoleon knew when he had to retreat, and I have met my Waterloo.
My Waterloo is a woman, a woman on a pedestal, stripped of reality, and she is an adulteress, as you are an adulterer. Of the mind! It is as simple as all that.
I have always loved you, Mark, and perhaps I always will. I hope not. I really and truly hope not. But I cannot stand this thing eating away at you and me. It could destroy the friendship we had for one another, that friendship we had when there was no deep emotional commitment. That was our mistake, endeavouring to change the warmth and closeness we felt for each other into the century’s greatest love affair.
Mark, I have taken out divorce proceedings. I know in your heart you will agree. I do not want anything from you, and I know there is nothing of mine that you would want. The divorce will take six months, and during that time I will be staying with a college friend of mine, Barbara Noonkester, you may remember her. I always could lean on her shoulder, and she is good fun.
Dad knows all the details. Do not get upset over this. I am all over it now, and I know you will be able to handle it. Then I am coming back to Berkeley, Mark, to resume my life. I am a nice person, and maybe I will meet someone who will return my love. We will both feel a little awkward at first, you and I, but everyone will soon get over it, and it will be good old Lisa, and good old Mark again.
And Mark, until I find that man, and you need a date, count me in. They were good days, and I enjoyed them and I would enjoy them again, until I meet the man.
So look after yourself. I will be thinking of you. See you in six months.
Your friend,
Lisa.
Mark sat on the edge of the bed and held his head in his hands. So it is over, he thought. He felt a sense of relief. He wished the marriage had never happened, and he could see now how foolish it all was; and he thought about Lisa’s letter, and how it took a lot of courage for her to write it and go through with it all. He liked the idea of their being friends again, just like the good old days.
He felt safe with that. That is something he could handle and there was always his work. He now, more than ever, fully understood the consequences of his love for Faith. So be it, he thought. He had learned a great deal about himself and would never fall prey to the same mistake again.
CHAPTER 14.
MURRAY AT BERKELEY
George Schroth understood about the divorce, as Mark knew he would, and in fact blamed himself for openly promoting the liaison between Mark and Lisa over the years. George, of all people, should have understood the possible ramifications, knowing how Mark had been deeply affected once before, and George now fully comprehended why in all those years Mark had gone out with no-one. There was no way he could ever feel any malice towards Mark. Lisa did not, so why should he? Life would go on.
Mark had his moments of self-doubt and depression for a time, but despite his emotional limitations he remained a strong, resolute and determined personality. One of the highlights of his year was a letter he received from Terry Somerville.
Dear Mark,
I have been meaning to write more regularly, but you know I was never too good with a pen. I am merely a technician, my boy, with no aspirations to being a literary giant. Not like you. You could have been successful in any field.
Now and again I pick up news of you, little snippets here and there, in the papers or sport magazines. Mind you, I have been noticing the odd article as well in the academic swimming literature. I always know it is one by you when I cannot understand the title, and when I do start reading then I have to keep the dictionary by my side. Cannot you scientific blokes write articles in simple language? Anyhow, jokes aside, as always I follow your career and successes with great interest, and hope that one of these days these tired old eyes will lay sight on you again.
There is a purpose to this letter. Isn’t there always? No, it is not asking for money for the old club, nothing like that. I do not ask many favours, you know that. Come to think of it, I never have asked a favour of you.
There is a kid from the country, Murray Christensen. He is a country kid, though he does not have the hay in his ears. He reminds me of you, even swims a bit like you, but that is understandable considering your old coach is his mentor. He has been cleaning up the Country Championships for years, and the State Schoolboy Championships, and won the first National Championship for Schoolboys, and is now the Australian champion (Open, mind you) at 15 years of age in the 50 and the 100 metres. I hate to say it, but his times are faster than your old world record. How times have changed
since people like you started doing a little research? He has this year and next year to go in high school. He has topped every class he has been in since he was 10, so I predict he will come out with an outstanding Leaving Certificate pass. I have of course met his parents, and they are the salt of the earth. As I said, he reminds me of you. He is a beauty, Mark. I have appended his swim record to this point in time. As you can see, he is a real comer. He has a bit of the old drive that you had, which is tough to find in the kids of to-day. You know I would not recommend him if he did not have what it takes.
You have two years to work out what to do for this kid, and I know you will do all you can.
The old pool is still much the same. They are even talking about pulling it down. Maybe I will be retiring after all. Anyhow, they are talking about demolishing it in a couple of year’s time, so if Murray goes off to Yankee-land I figure I will have made my final contribution.
Let me know if you can do anything.
Still think of the good old days, and can still see you cutting through the water. I can never forget that gold medal in the 100 metres. When I die, the smile will still be on my face.
Have not heard anything about Faith. Still have not got over that one. She married, and had a kid, but you know all that. She disappeared into the wood-work. That was a strange one, Mark, I thought you two were a number.
If I hear any news I will pass it on.
Look after yourself.
Your old coach,
Terry.
Well, well, well, thought Terry, so the old fellow is at it again. He looked over the boy’s swimming record, and saw immediately that his times were better than his own, and he was only a kid. He obviously was of gold medal potential. He thought about it for a while, and then wrote.
Dear Terry,
I am pleased that you finally made enough money at the old Baths to pay for an airmail stamp. Your letter was happily received.
No, I never did think of you as a literary giant, but the occasional turn of phrase in your letter was not too bad. Maybe you should have gone on with your education and I should have stayed in Australia.
Some bad news and some good news. The bad news first. You may remember that the last time I wrote you, I was getting married, even sent you an invitation. Has it been that long since you have written? Well, it did not work out, Terry. She was a nice girl, a fair bit younger than myself, and to tell you the truth it was no go because I just cannot seem to get Faith off my mind. So my divorce is in the process. She said she had married a man in love with another woman. Ridiculous, but there it is.
Now to the good news. I looked over Murray’s credentials, and they are impressive. So, if he keeps up with his marks and gets a very high Leaving Certificate pass, and if he keeps improving in his swimming, two years is a long time in this game as you know only too well, then you can take it from me that I will arrange an athletic scholarship for him which will cover his expenses here and we will be able to handle the airfare. When you talk to him and/or his parents, stress the academic side. I do not want just any athlete here, I want one who is pursuing a career after his swimming. I am interested in the total person. It is not that I am not interested in winning, it is just I want the athlete to be a winner in and out of the pool. I learned that from you.
When I came here I was pretty wet behind the ears, and staying with George Schroth and his family was a great personal experience. I cannot give the kid quite the same family environment, but I have a spare room and he can stay with me. I work a lot on my research at night, so it would be a good academic atmosphere for the boy and, frankly, it would be good company for me. Mind you, he can leave any time he likes if he wants to go to a fraternity house or an apartment with some of the other swimmers. But let us wait and see what happens the next few years. You may want to have the kid’s father write me. Sometimes that helps.
So there we are, Terry, the good news and the bad news. I think of you often … and Faith.
Best wishes,
Mark.
Terry called Faith immediately he received the letter, and she hurried down to the Coogee Aquarium. She was a bit perplexed why Terry wanted to see her alone. When she walked into his office Terry handed her the letter. Her heart raced as she saw the familiar hand-writing. As she read of his love for her, and his impending divorce, her heart skipped a beat. She hated to admit it, even to herself, but she was secretly pleased. Mark loved her still, it was what she had, deep inside her, always hoped. He had never changed, and neither had she.
Faith read the letter and wiped the tears from her eyes. She drew a deep breath.
“He loves me, Terry, he still loves me!” she exclaimed exultantly.
“What else did you expect? You crazy young fools! You were made for one another! I have never seen anything like you two in my lifetime. Bloody young fools, throwing away your happiness all these years.”
“Birds of a feather, that is what we are. He loves me and I love him … maybe we will meet again in heaven … maybe that is our destiny. I guess I hoped, but I never thought, that his commitment would remain as great as mine. Now what do I do?”
“Well, I would definitely send Murray to him. That could do no harm. But I do not think I would show the letter to your husband.”
“No,” said Faith seriously, “you are wrong. I must show it to him. He is an unusual man, Terry. Toch took me for better or for worse, and he has put up with a lot from me. He has done everything I wanted him to do, and more. Our whole relationship is built on trust. I have never lied to him, and I have never kept anything from him. I must show it to him.”
“All right. He must be some kind of man.”
“He is and I know what he will say, to send Murray to Mark. That is why he must see the letter.”
Faith took the letter to Toch, and let him read it. Toch read it slowly, put it down, and thought for a while.
“He still loves you, Faith.”
“Y … yes, Toch.”
“Would you like to go to Mark?”
“Toch, I would not even think of it, and you know that. You have done everything and more for me, and the shock would be too much for Murray. No, I will not go to him. I have to admit to you, Toch, in all honesty, however, I was very moved to read Mark’s letter. You can understand that?”
“I do, Faith, I do. I know you do not love me, at least the way you love Mark. But we are friends, and good ones at that.”
“We certainly are that.”
“I know you and trust you completely. My vote is to send Murray to Mark. For many reasons it is the best thing to do.”
She embraced him. “I knew you would say yes. I told Terry that. But I had to show you the letter, because I would never hide anything from you.”
“That is why I agreed, and I know deep down it is what you want.”
“Thanks, Toch.”
“So let us tell Murray.”
Murray was overjoyed to get the news, and from that moment his life took on new dimensions. He worked harder at school, and his training efforts increased as well. The dream of going to the US was one he had always harboured, and the clear possibility spurred him on to higher things. It was a turning point in his life, and gave him a vision of what his future might be, far from what he had ever imagined previously.
Toch then wrote to Mark, as he was asked to do.
Dear Mr Jamieson,
You suggested that I drop you a line about my son Murray Christensen, from Casino. Terry Somerville has told us that you would provide him with an athletic scholarship if he keeps progressing in his swimming and his school-work. We have talked it over thoroughly in the family, and of course with Murray, and we are all for it. It will be quite a change for a country boy, but he is very responsible and mature for his age. Anyhow, we feel sure he will keep up with the school-work and the swimming to your satisfaction.
We named him after Murray Rose, but we guess Terry may have told you that. Terry has been like a second father to him, but you
probably know all about that also.
We have a small property just outside of Casino, and built a pool for Murray; and of course he trains with the Casino Swim Club, and every Christmas holidays with Terry. Murray has never given us a moment of trouble since he was born. Nevertheless we feel much better knowing that he will be able to stay with you when he gets to America. It will give him a sense of security, as you can appreciate, having gone to America yourself when you were young.
I will write you every six months or so to keep you up with Murray’s school-work and his swim times. His mother and I appreciate everything you are doing for Murray. You will not be sorry. He is a fine boy.
Best wishes,
Toch Christensen.
The time when by quickly. Murray topped his school the next two years, and repeated as Australian champion in the 50 and 100 metres, and arrangements were then finalised for him to go to the United States. Faith packed his bags, and they drove with him to Sydney so he could catch his flight.
Murray went to say good-bye to Terry in Sydney. He was sitting in his office at the Baths, with photographs of Mark, and now Murrray, strewn around.
“So you are going off to America, eh?”
“Yes, I am off to-morrow.”
“Well, you timed it well. I am leaving the Baths. I figure when I had two like you and Mark that I have been lucky enough and, as I have always said, coaching is a mug’s game. You young blokes go to America, and my biggest trip is to Peter’s Corner in Sydney.”
“Oh come on, Terry, you have been around Australia any number of times through your coaching.”
“Yes, I guess I have. But one day I would like to go to America and England. They are the two places I want to see. Berkeley, to see Mark, and you if you are still there, the Golden Gate Bridge and Fisherman’s Wharf … and I’d love to see Hollywood and Disneyland, and the Grand Canyon, and the Statue of Liberty … and in England I want to see Buckingham Palace, Big Ben, and Westminster Cathedral … one of these days I will make it, just like you young blokes.”
