by Shawn Keys
Cadence paced back and forth. “They get two more chances.”
“Julie won’t get there, I don’t think,” Daniel assessed. “Not in the right mindset anymore, even if she could have made it. But Carla got close.”
“Not sure I can watch,” Cadence admitted nervously.
“Hey! Look! MK is coming up to the starting blocks for her own final! Want to go watch?” Irène pointed out.
Daniel was surprised. He hadn’t thought the 100-meter hurdle heats were proceeding that quickly. They must have got their act together. It took them a half-hour to reset the hurdles after that earlier race. He had hoped to be there for both of his athletes.
Cadence saw that hope on his face. She flashed him a grin and hooked her elbow through his. “Come on! They’re still announcing them. We can get over there before the starting gun fires.”
Daniel took a look back and saw Carla commence her second run. She got up into the air but nudged the bar with her foot on the way over. Another scratch. That meant he had at least Julie’s next run and then Carla setting up for another before they would be calling Cadence. Even then, they would have to raise the marks. The hurdle event was only a dozen meters away. Surely, they had enough time!
Cadence tugged on his arm again, looking almost as eager as he was. “Come on! We’re going to miss it!”
Accompanied by Irène and Matteo, the small group shifted over to where they had a clear view of the running track while not being too far from the vault. Not wanting to break her concentration, they didn’t try and catch MK’s attention. From what Daniel could see, she was lost in her own world, visualizing the path in front of her… already seeing herself crossing the finish line. Shaking out her powerful legs, MK was only seconds away from settling into her starting block.
Daniel took a couple seconds to consider the woman next to MK. Where Cadence had the debatable luxury of performing followed by waiting to see how her competition fared, MK was going to be matching her biggest competition stride for stride. Not merely in the same race, but in the very next lane. The two of them were the first and second seed, thus matched side-by-side for the final.
Daniel would have described MK as a gazelle, with long legs as compared to her body, which was itself well-suited for generating flowing power. She could come off the blocks well enough, but that was her weakest point. She made up ground in the latter stages of a race as her rhythm kicked in.
Dior DeLavar, on the other hand, was a locomotive ready to storm out of the station. Stocky in the hips and shoulders, she had the explosive power of a sprinter. Her legs might not suggest her to be a jumper, but she had proven in multiple races that she could launch herself over the hurdles without much trouble. And when she couldn’t go over… she went through them.
That was Daniel’s personal pet peeve with her style. The world of hurdlers had not yet decided that knocking down rungs would enact penalties. Certain factions within that ongoing argument suggested that hitting the hurdles dumped enough time onto a person’s run that it balanced itself out. Purists were angry, seeing a trend toward ‘power hurdlers’ that could smash through without any difficulty. Judges could disqualify a hurdler making absolutely no attempt to go over, but that was not common.
Daniel caught sight of Melissa MacIntyre, the off-island coach who had been hired by the Dior family. He had done his research on her, and knew Melissa was a proponent to the brute force approach. Given that Daniel felt the opposite, the race between their two athletes had the sense of being a showdown of ideologies.
He tried not to put pressure on MK with all that. He hadn’t had to force her; she preferred the effortless glide. That made Daniel efforts at training her easier, not having to break her of a bad habit. He simply supported her in the style she had already chosen.
The race caller took his position at the side of the track. “To your marks!”
MK finished settling into the block. She liked to take some time to get comfortable in her position. Dior was only a few seconds behind her, preferring to spend as little time as possible hunched over.
“Set…”
All the racers went up onto the balls of their feet, their hands splayed slightly shy of the starting line.
* Crack *
The starting pistol fired. The sharper racers were watching for the puff of smoke rather than listening for the sound. It was only a fraction of a second of a difference, but close races could be decided on such slim margins. Daniel had always argued that the puff was less jarring as well. Waiting on the gun shot sound was like waiting to get smacked over the head.
Almost instantly, the center four racers left the others in their dust. With track and field reemerging on the island, the sports commission had been encouraging as many people as possible to get involved. It helped to have a diverse field. But there was a cream to the crop, and they rose quickly to the challenge.
Out to the fifth hurdle, the third and fourth place women seemed to be keeping a decent pace. But then MK found her stride. Like liquid bronze, she flowed over the barriers and surged toward the end.
Dior had a killer start, but her middle race tended to lag. In that section, Daniel was sure there was a mental switch that flipped in the woman. She went from caring about getting over the hurdles into ceasing to care and plowing through anything that dared get in her way. A small snarl came over her face as she entered that frame of mind. Steamrolling through the 8th and 9th hurdle, she charged back into a dead heat with MK.
Together, the two women exploded over the 10th and final barrier and sprinted the final 10.5 meters to the line. Daniel forced himself not to blink, straining to see… but he couldn’t tell for the life of him who had cross first.
In the not-so-distant history before electronic measurements were possible, it was what would have been called a photo-finish. Instead of comparing a snapshot taken at the point of crossing, more advanced technology decided when they crossed down to the thousandths of a second.
Spinning around, Daniel looked up at the board… and let out a slightly sad sigh as he saw MK’s name in second place. Exactly 9 milliseconds behind Dior.
He gave himself a few seconds to grimace in sympathetic disappointment for her. She had answered his earlier challenge over the year. She really had put her heart and soul into the race.
Beside them, Irène said brightly. “Wow. She really made up a lot of ground on Dior this year. It was much closer this time around.”
Daniel turned his head to face her, shining a thankful smile her way. “That’s exactly the take-away from this, Irène. Absolutely the right way to look at it. Thanks.”
The young woman gave a happy nod.
Cadence put a comforting hand on Daniel’s back. “You did all you could. So did she. Why don’t you go tell her?”
Daniel glanced back over to the pole-vaulting station.
Before he could say anything, Cadence shook her head, “Don’t worry about me! I just saw Julie go down for her third time. I won.” She let out a cheeky grin. “That means I don’t have to jump again. I’m not here to break any records, so I’ll let it go. Just be at the podium to watch me get my medal, alright?”
Once again, Daniel so very badly wanted to kiss her. “Thanks. I’ll bring MK over soon. We can all celebrate together.” Lingering on each other as long as they dared, they finally broke apart. Daniel knew they were being reckless. People wouldn’t be all that fooled if he kept staring at her like a moon-struck calf. Taking hold of himself, he broke off in direction of the finish line.
He found MK laying on her back on the rust-colored rubber track. Sucking down great gulps of air, she was holding her hands up over her face. She seemed to be pointedly ignoring looking up at the scoreboard.
Daniel detoured quickly by the spot she had dropped her pack, retrieving her water bottle. He squatted down next to her and offered it to her. “Need a drink?”
Shifting her fingers, MK peered up at him through a small slit. “Need something stronger than that
.” A pause. “Missed it, didn’t I?”
“By about the width of a single hair.”
Her finger slid in place again, blocking out the world. “Damn.”
“Know what?”
“Hmm?”
“You made up ground on her. You did. And Dior shaved a couple decimal spots off her time last year. That means you beat her time from the last Nationals.”
Growling, MK ended her self-imposed isolation by grabbing the water bottle out of his hand and levering herself up into a sitting position. Taking a long chug of the fresh water, she spilled a little over her head, then shook hard enough to send droplets spraying. “Which means she keeps getting better.”
“Yeah, but you’re getting better faster,” Daniel corrected.
MK chuckled, scrunching up her nose in a cute, wry smirk. “You’re not going to let me feel crappy about this, are you?”
“Not a chance,” Daniel chuckled back. “Second in the country. Not in some backwater sport, either. Running and jumping. Everyone runs and jumps. Which means you beat everyone. You just crushed that race. If we can get you off that block a little faster, you’re going to own Dior. But for now… a silver medal will look pretty damn good around your neck.”
He held out his hand. She took it and allowed herself to be hauled up into Daniel’s waiting arms. By the end of their hug, any sign of regret had faded from her. He assumed it might resurge in the future, but that wasn’t all bad. Hatred for being second was one of the things that drove athletes to gold. But today? Today, they would celebrate.
MK’s smile was genuine as their hug broke. Her mind flew to the positive. “I felt strong. Good! I mean, especially when I got up to speed. I was feeling it, Coach. I really was.”
“Looked like it!”
A sudden thought occurred to her. “Cadence! Wasn’t she jumping?”
“It’s over. She defended her title,” Daniel gave her the good news.
MK crowed a little, “Oh yes! That’s fantastic! Where is she?”
“She had to go back to the vaulting station until the official gives her the word that her jumps are done, but she saw your race. She should be nearly done.”
“Let’s go see her!” MK started to pull him in that direction.
Daniel was all for it. “Let’s get your bag first.” Both Cadence and Irène would gush over MK’s accomplishment, helping to banish any lingering second-guessing… at least for the evening.
He was picking up her gear when a voice called out, “Coaches! All coaches, if I can get your attention!”
Daniel drew up short, fixing his attention on Eugene Venier, who had risen to become the head of the officials for the sporting commission. He was often the day-to-day link into that organization for the coaches.
MK slowed. “What is it?”
“No idea,” Daniel admitted. He nudged her onward, “Cadence really wanted to congratulate you. Go on. I’ll see what this is about, then meet you all.”
Beaming, MK set off through the crowd.
Daniel saw Matteo was coming toward the call, so he waited until the two of them could link up. He drew even with the big man, then asked, “What do you think?”
With a shrug, Matteo said, “Don’t have a clue. Today’s events are done, but there’s another two days of competition still to go.”
Together, they pushed into the circle with the other coaches. Some went down on a knee to help the ones in back see over. Daniel and Matteo both lingered in the second row, preferring to stay standing.
Eugene waited until the shuffling was over, then put on his most diplomatic smile. “First, let me congratulate all of you for putting together such a strong field of athletes. If Portesara is going to have a place on the world stage, it’s because of your efforts to help these young athletes realize their dreams. I’ve told the commission that I’d have a word with all of you at the end of each day. There are some important points that you need to be aware of.”
He kept his smile going. “We’re glad to see that our funding has remained stable with the latest government budget. That means the rules communicated to all of you earlier remain in place. Anyone who makes it to the podium at Nationals will receive government support. Those levels will be raised to meet inflation, but otherwise don’t expect anything new.”
“For the coaches’ stipends, we’ve decided the line is to be drawn at having three athletes. If you have three athletes competing at the National level under your stewardship, you will receive a stipend as well. Applications must be submitted to the sporting commission.”
Well, damn. Daniel gave a deep sigh. So much for that. It didn’t hurt quite as bad since money was hardly his driving motivator, but investing a little more into Cadence and MK’s training equipment wouldn’t have hurt. Being on the government’s payroll would have made me feel righteous again. Like they had really forgiven me. They’ve accepted my coaching certificate, but this would be a sign that I’ve finally washed away the stigma of the last Olympics.
Eugene wasn’t done. He let out a deep sigh. “Along with the good news, there is also bad news. I want to remind you of our goal. We’re heading for the Olympics. We can fund 30 spots. Now, I think track and field is going to be heavily represented. We don’t have the infrastructure to support a lot of the other sports. Our roads aren’t long enough to do long-distance cycling!” He paused to let a little polite laughter circulate over his joke. Portesara was a small island. Not that small, but enough that a cycling marathon was an amusing idea.
He went on, “That number might go up to 35 if we see some very promising candidates, but don’t count on it.” He gestured around the field. “Look around. There are too many events event to take the gold medalist from all of them. Topping Nationals isn’t enough. Your athletes need to be competitive on the world stage. In order to take them, you need to prove your athlete might break the top twenty at the Olympics. Better… top ten.”
“I know you too well, Eugene.” A coach for the hammer-throwing team, Marco Rossie huffed. “I can see there’s something else. Out with it!”
Eugene held up a placating hand. “Indeed, there is. Like I said in past press conferences, the sporting commission’s goal is to be noticed. To let people know we’re back and able to produce a quality team. That means we need to be seen as much as possible. Preferably on the leader boards. But having their name up on the screen at any rank is a good thing.”
There was a little mockery at that idea, but Eugene waved them off. “Complain all you want. But don’t say later that you weren’t warned. 30 spots! If we can take someone who competes in five different sports and make a good showing of themselves, we’ll take that over a long-shot at the top ten. If we have someone who is part of a sport that generates a lot of attention, same thing.”
“Which ones?” a voice asked. Daniel couldn’t see who it was.
“I’m not going to be specific here. You’ve seen the Olympics. You know which ones get the most TV coverage. Those are your choices. Have more than one tool. Be unique. Or have a serious Olympic podium contender. Anything less, and your athlete won’t be going.”
“What if we don’t need the government to pay?” asked one of the coaches Daniel didn’t know. He was a long and high jumping coach, if he remembered correctly. “Some of the athletes have families that can pay their own way.”
Eugene nodded, “There is more to it than simply paying for their flights and hotels. Even if those families could foot the entire bill, we aren’t looking to put just anyone forward. We put Portesara’s reputation behind everyone wearing our uniform. We will not allow anyone to simply buy their way in.”
His hard-nosed tone softened a little. “But we appreciate the offer. Every competitor who earns one of the official spots will be asked if they have the chance to go on their own. The commission will appreciate your support. This will allow us to take the next athlete on the list.” He left unspoken the fact that those families would gain even more leverage with the government. “But
I would not expect more than five or ten athletes will be able to afford this. Don’t count on this expanding the list to double or triple the size.”
Daniel knew each family would weight their advantage. If they paid to go, and that allowed another athlete to go who might challenge their family member, then they wouldn’t in order to freeze the other person out. If the next athlete was from a different sport, then they could seize on the chance to win political favor. A new game for the rich and powerful to play.
He wondered if Evelyn would decide to play that game. He would have to talk to her about it. He wouldn’t ask for her to fund Cadence or MK, but she might out of the goodness of her heart. That didn’t change the fact that Cadence and MK had to earn their offer before Evelyn could choose.
Meanwhile, Eugene was continuing on. “Don’t worry too much yet. There’s plenty of time! Three more years. Final decisions aren’t going to be made until the final year. Keep your athletes healthy. Keep them improving. Listen to what we’re saying. That’s all. My congratulations again for all you’ve done with these fine men and women. I wish we could take them all.”
He hustled out of the ring, ignoring any other questions shouted his way. He left them to absorb what he said.
Daniel didn’t hold it against the guy. A lot of the immediate reaction was anger and concern for their athletes. Other comments revolved around the unfair advantage given to the wealthier athletes. These weren’t things that Eugene was going to be able to change for them. He was merely the messenger. Better that he gets out of there and waits for their flash reactions to die down. He could answer their more logical, rational questions later.
Not wanting to add to the turmoil, Daniel peeled away. He paced toward his athletes in a pensive daze, Matteo matching his stride. “Well, that’s a hell of a thing.”
“We all knew it was coming. Eugene is just spelling it out,” Matteo said.
“Can’t argue with that. Any of us could have done the math. Still, there are a lot of kids around here who are going to be disappointed.”
