by Eva Luxe
Solomon’s head spun as he entered the Village for the first time. Athletes from all over the globe, all shapes and sizes and nationalities, greeted one another warmly. Smiling faces were everywhere, and when confusion appeared anywhere, it was short-lived. Help was never far away; language barriers be damned.
For such a collection of graceful, well-coordinated people, however, Solomon noticed many collisions that on the road might be called “fender benders.” The sheer number of beautiful, fit, healthy people in one place had nearly every eye wandering.
Particularly amusing to the young judoka was a tall European-looking basketball player, the better part of seven-feet, all legs, walking into an Asian girl he guessed must be a gymnast, under five feet tall, as the two of them both had their heads turned admiring other athletes. It was almost like when a small boy runs through his father’s legs, and if she’d been just an inch or two shorter, or he taller, they may well have passed seamlessly, the basketball player stepping clear over the top of her and never knowing it. As it were, her face collided with where his belt buckle would be. The two of them apologized profusely, and within seconds the incident was forgotten amongst a sea of lean track stars, impossibly tall female volleyball players, cyclists with thighs as big around as truck tires, and swimmers with arms that seemed to reach the ground.
It was all dizzying, and Solomon collapsed on his bed, eager for the sanctuary of his room. He shared it with three other Fijian athletes, a fellow judoka from a lighter weight class, a swimmer, and an archer.
The swimmer, Markus, attended college in the United States, and he and Solomon got on well.
The format for the Olympic judo competition was an unforgiving, 32-man, single-elimination bracket. With the way scoring worked, that meant that if Solomon allowed an opponent to get a good grip and throw him onto his back just once, an (ippon) that his Olympics, as a competitor, would be over.
He couldn’t allow that. Now that he was here and surrounded by the energy of the Games, Solomon knew he had to make it count.
He fell asleep that night and dreamed of the winner’s podium with the Fijian national anthem playing in the background.
Chapter 22 - Logan
Logan’s team, on the other hand would play a minimum of three matches and likely advance even with a loss in group plays, since eight of the twelve teams reached the quarterfinals.
The USWNT checked into the Village earlier than most teams or athletes, since their sport was among the first to kick off, and the buzz Solomon would experience hadn’t yet begun.
Logan found herself rooming with Savannah, Alyssa, and Tara, the four youngest players on the team. The Olympics were a first for all of them, although Tara’s National Team experience made her the de facto leader of the quartet.
“Listen up, no guys in here the day of or day before a match, okay?” Tara addressed the group, who didn’t, at first, seem to take her seriously. “Hey, I mean it! I was talking to Lori and some of the others, and they have a million stories about past Olympics where, hell, half the team was up partying all night with the Australian rugby team or some bullshit like that. I want to win a gold medal, and if any of you are dragging ass because of some dude, or chick, or too much caipirinha or whatever, I’m going to be pissed.”
“Cai-pi-who?” Logan asked
“Caipirinha,” Tara explained. “It’s an alcohol made form sugar cane. It’s served kind of slushy and it will get you wrecked. After we win gold, drink all you want. Until then, if I catch anybody drinking, I’ll sic the Twins on you!”
“But T, Australian rugby players sound really, really hot,” Savannah joked.
“What, did you break up with Troy?” Alyssa asked, referring to Savannah’s college boyfriend.
“We’re on again, off again, he’s got another year at FSU and who knows where I’m going to be,” Savannah responded. “Besides, I thought the Olympic Village was like Las Vegas, you know, what happens in the Village stays in the Village?”
“Yeah, until you come home pregnant with an Australian rugby baby!” Logan laughed, throwing a pillow at her best friend.
Tara faked an awful Aussie accent. “Oi! Mommy! Why aren’t there any kangaroos here in Tallahassee?”
Lori and Kat appeared at the door.
“Lots of laughter in here, what’s so funny?” Team captain Lori queried the group.
“Well, Savannah is pregnant with an Australian rugby player’s baby, Alyssa is drunk on caipirinha. Tara was just leaving to hook up with a Greek weightlifter, and me? I’m the good one of the group, I just want to take a nap,” Logan explained.
“Yeah, right, Lowery, if you’re the ‘good one’ we’re all in trouble,” Kat replied.
“Guaranteed Logan comes home from the Opening Ceremony with like fifty names and room numbers of guys from the parade. They’ll spot that hair a mile away,” Lori predicted.
Logan’s heart fell thinking about how the only man she’d ever want to hear from was Solomon. She wondered what he was doing at this very moment. She knew judo was one of the first events of the Olympics. She would have done anything to hear his voice, to tell him how much she wanted him to win. That to her he was already a champion.
But instead, as always, she pushed the emotion aside. She couldn’t lose focus.
“The only hair anybody will notice on our team is Leah’s,” Logan insisted, referring to her teammate’s new red, white, and blue, stars-and-stripes coif. “And if anybody is looking at our team in the parade, do you really think I’ll get a second glance once they see Jada?”
“Jada’s a model, everybody knows her already. You’re like the fresh-faced, all-American girl next door, Lowery,” Tara interjected. “Guys love that shit. And running around with Beyoncé and J Lo over here,” Tara pointed to Savannah and Alyssa. “I’ll probably have to barricade the door to keep the guys out.
“Oh yeah, poor you, is your Austrian boyfriend not going to make it?” Kat inquired, and Tara rolled her eyes.
“Austrian?” Savannah let the word hang in the air until Lori picked it up.
“We were in France for a tournament two summers ago and this creepy dude who was like fifty kept hanging around whenever we’d get off the bus or even at the hotel, slipping notes to the coaches, he was wherever we were. It turned out he was stalking T. He was obsessed with her or something. He was from Austria and had just seen her picture in the background of a story in the paper about the German team and he somehow figured out who she was and somehow convinced himself they were meant to be together or some shit. I mean we always have fans hanging around, I guess you could even say groupies, but this was so weird.”
“And gross,” Tara piped up.
“I’m sure he’s on some sort of banned persons list or security watch or something,” Kat assured the group. “Anyway, after dinner tonight get some rest. Coach Pressley is serious about bed check and we have a game tomorrow. See you downstairs in a bit.”
“Were you totally freaked out?” Alyssa pointed the question in Tara’s direction.
“I think he was harmless. I hope so anyway. We’re always in such a large group, so many people around, I wasn’t ever really worried. A lot of us have had creepers, stalkers, whatever. You can imagine the people following Jada around. None of you have ever gone out with her to like a club or anything, right?”
The group shook their heads in unison.
“It’s like being with a Kardashian. Photographers, paparazzi everywhere, guys and even girls hitting on her like crazy. Leah has her fans too. And Lori, you know, she’s always been Miss Downhome Southern Belle, but ever since she did that photo shoot with Travis Zane and then she was in that Most Beautiful People issue of People, she’s been on another level. You guys should be prepared; life is going to change for you. College soccer is a very niche sport, hardly anybody notices. But when you play in a World Cup or an Olympics, and really play, you’re on worldwide television. If we win gold, it will get crazy. Commercials, you’ll be asked to be
on television shows, all that kind of stuff. It all starts tomorrow, so get good rest tonight.”
The women finished dressing in their matching Team USA tracksuits and went downstairs for dinner and a meeting with the coaches.
Coach Riffle addressed the team first, going over New Zealand’s personnel and playing style. She’d broken down all the game tape they could get on the Kiwis, and she warned the team that they’d be facing a big, physical opponent that liked to attack through the air, to expect long punts and lots of running after long balls. The starting lineup was given out, and both Logan and Savannah were part of the eleven who would be on the field for kickoff. Tara, with a slight hamstring pull, would come off the bench, as would Alyssa, Coach Pressley preferring to ease such a young player into her first major international tournament slowly.
After dinner and their meeting, the coaches loaded the players onto a bus and left the Village, to the puzzlement of even Lori Gallagher.
“No idea. This is all Coach. I had nothing to do with it.” Lori responded when several players asked what was happening.
The bus pulled into a hotel a few miles away from the Village, and the players were led through a side entrance and ushered toward a ballroom. From down the hall, they could hear voices inside, reciting a familiar chant.
“I.” A single voice.
“I!” A large group, in response.
“I believe.”
“I believe!”
“I believe that we.”
“I believe that we!”
At this point, the USWNT, led by co-captains Lori Gallagher and Kat Malloy, rounded the corner and walked into a room willed with red, white, and blue streamers, balloons, and Uncle Sam’s Army, in full voice.
“I believe that we will win.”
“I believe that we will win!”
The chanting continued, and the players broke into grins as they looked around the room and recognized friends and family members sprinkled throughout the crowd.
Logan rushed to her mother, wrapping her arms around her and burying her head into her shoulder. Tracy was more subdued than the others around them, wearing jeans and a Logan Lowery jersey.
Logan turned to welcome Savannah into their duo, but she noticed her friend standing, slack-jawed, in the center of the floor with tears streaming down her face.
She followed Savannah’s eyes across the room to a couple in wheelchairs, the man with oxygen tubes running below his nose. Logan hadn’t met Savannah’s parents, but she knew.
She watched Savannah cross the room and drop to her knees, weeping as she embraced them both. Savannah’s mother had battled diabetes for years and her right foot had been lost to amputation. Her eyesight was also failing. Savannah’s father had lung and prostate cancer, and neither had been expected to travel to Rio.
Uncle Sam’s Army made it happen, taking up collections and arranging for transport.
Logan and her mother strolled over, among pats on the back and high fives, to meet Joe and Aundrea Reeves.
The night was spectacular, a proper “Welcome to the Olympics” moment for the team and a chance for the fans to rub elbows with their idols. Several players made remarks, the coaches each thanked the organizers and the fans and promised to do their best to make America proud.
Coming down off the high of celebrating with their fans didn’t let sleep come easily, but eventually Logan and her friend drifted off, the feeling of how much she missed Solomon one of the last of her waking thoughts.
Chapter 23 - Solomon
Solomon was in the air during the match, but when his plane touched down, he immediately checked his phone for the result of the United States-New Zealand match. He smiled when he scrolled down and found the score, and his smile grew wider when he saw the scoring summary:
USA 4 (Lowery 21 40 Gallagher 58 Vogel 61) New Zealand 0.
That meant Logan had scored, not once, but twice! In the 21st and again in the 40th minute, with Lori Gallagher and Jill Vogel padding the lead in the second half. Solomon was proud. Despite the current uncertain status of their relationship, he was a Logan Lowery super fan, and he was thrilled for her. He thought back to the chilly nights on Victory Parkway, where Xavier University was found, watching Logan play, and how he wished he could have been there to watch her on the Olympic stage.
He couldn’t wait for the Opening Ceremonies.
* * *
Solomon was likewise scheduled to compete the day after the Opening Ceremony, but he had no doubt as to whether he’d attend. He was among the vast majority of athletes in attendance, having reached his goal by qualifying for the Games. He was expected to possibly be in medal contention in 2020, but 2016 was supposed to be a “happy to be here” event.
Winning a match of two would make the 2016 Olympics a resounding success for Solomon Kano.
But something in him kept thinking about what Chuck Lowery had said to him, that one night he had the privilege of meeting him.
“We’re not guaranteed shit in life,” he’d said. “Seize your day.”
Solomon nodded to himself. He wouldn’t just be happy with being invited to the Olympics.
He planned on leaving with a medal. And the heart of Logan Lowery.
Chapter 24 - Logan
New Zealand had come close to scoring in the second minute of the match, sending a shot clanging off the post and then one going over the crossbar by mere inches. The American team steadied itself after that, taking more possession and building their attacks methodically. In the 21st minute, a Kiwi defender had to kick the ball over her own end line to get out of danger, and Angie DeCarlo took the corner kick. The ball sailed across the goalmouth, over the heads of everyone, but just as it passed the far post, it dipped. A flash of blonde curls rose into the air, Logan Lowery sending the ball crashing past a defender and into the upper corner with her forehead. Dayton, Ohio, Montgomery High School, Xavier University, the USWNT and Logan Lowery 1, New Zealand 0.
Twenty minutes later, after a botched corner kick and scramble in front of goal, Logan, who had started to retreat back on defense, turned to find the ball bouncing toward her twenty-five yards from goal. She coiled her well-muscled right leg and exploded into the ball, sending a laser through the crowd in front of the net and past the stunned New Zealand goalkeeper. USA 2, New Zealand 0.
Logan’s mother, sitting in the handicapped section with Joe and Aundrea Reeves, screamed herself hoarse. Their Logan Lowery and Savannah Reeves jerseys drew congratulatory hugs and high fives all afternoon.
France beat Colombia, 3-0, in the other game in their group, meaning the Americans’ second game would probably determine the group winner and the more favorable quarterfinal draw.
The Opening Ceremonies were scheduled for the evening before the France match, so the coaching staff let the team put to a vote whether or not the team would participate in the Parade of Nations. Sixteen-to-two, the players voted to attend and march in the parade. The DeCarlo Sisters voted against. They’d marched before and preferred rest before a match against the 3rd-ranked team in the world.
* * *
The forecast called for rain, but when the first dancers took to the field at the extravaganza to welcome the world to Rio, the weather was clear and comfortable.
Athletes gathered in their national finery in the bowels of the massive Maracanã Stadium, milling about, preparing to walk. Greece, dictated by tradition, went first. Portuguese spellings of each nation were used, meaning the United States, spelled Estados Unidos de America, walked just a scant few places ahead of Fiji.
Logan, for her part, was soaking in the majesty of the event, star struck by the NBA players and marveling at being so close to recognizable athletes from other disciplines. She hadn’t forgotten the article she read in the Cincinnati paper before leaving for Rio, and the smoldering eyes of Solomon Kano staring back at her. No matter how much she tried, she couldn’t avoid him.
Milling about, chatting with her friends, she spotted a group behind them
that included a man dressed as an island warrior, and she figured he must be Fiji’s flag-bearer.
She peered through the assembled athletes, large and small, until she spotted him. He was some distance away, but he was unmistakably buff and rugged, his arms stretching the short sleeves of his sky blue shirt. His long hair was tied back and up, out of his face, and she watched him chatting with two of his teammates, laughing easily, shifting his weight from side to side.
Suddenly, her field of vision was blocked by a tall, smiling man from the contingent behind the Americans, Estonia. Logan realized she’d been staring a little too long, and he must have thought she was looking at him. Mortified, she put both hands up and shook her head, causing the Estonian to pout playfully. She let herself blend back in among the American athletes to avoid further embarrassment.
Savannah, who watched the whole scene play out, leaned in close to Logan’s ear to be heard over the noise in the stadium. “Looks like you made a new friend.”
“Shut up Savannah!” Logan punched her friend on the arm. “I was trying to see if I could spot Solomon…” She let her voice trail off. She hadn’t really talked much to Savannah or anyone else about what had happened with them.
“He’s here? I mean, duh, of course he’d be here, right? That’s Fiji over there?” Savannah pointed in the direction of an island warrior holding a pole with a sky blue flag on it, rocking back and forth, lost in thought.
Logan nodded.
“Which one is he?” The taller Savannah rose up on her tiptoes and tried to pick out one particular face, despite the fact that it was one she’d never seen before. “Oh forget it, what’s his name, again?”
“Solomon. Solomon Kano,” Logan answered over a crowd which had gotten louder when Brazil’s neighbor, Colombia, was announced.
“Solomon,” Savannah repeated, more to herself than to Logan, dragging out his name so that it stretched to what sounded like a dozen syllables. “Be right back.”
