Chapter 26
Hurdles and Water
Beckwith met Mary at Homer’s All-Night Diner, two blocks from the hotel. He sipped coffee; she drank herbal tea. They slowly forked through gooey slabs of apple pie and shared twenty years of separate experiences.
“Tell me about Stanfield,” he said finally. Shocks of white hair leaped from his temples. His eyes drank in his daughter’s beauty. It was the first time they had sat across a table like this since the night of her wedding.
“He’s extraordinary, Daddy,” her dark eyes shining from a face made radiant by love. “We’ve been together for two years now. You’ll like him – I’m sure of it. He’s kind and so motivated. His drive to make the Olympic Team reminds me of your passion when you started the company.”
Beckwith still looked an athlete in his royal blue warmups. Though now seventy-four-years old, he possessed an animal vitality, an alertness, which implied imminent action.
“He – Jeremy – is the most intelligent person I’ve ever known. He has so many gifts.”
“I suspected as much,” said the old man softly. “You have seen more adversity than most people.” Mary had been hospitalized twice for injuries inflicted by her musician husband. She had miscarried twin fetuses. Five years of hoping for the best ended with divorce. Alcohol and cocaine ended his life.
“Bad people teach us to value good human relationships,” Beckwith said.
Mary smiled at her father. Their mutual respect flowed deep. She reached across the table with both hands and clasped his.
The money he gave Mary the previous summer had financed Jeremy’s trip to Europe. It was a fine investment. The boy had a terrific series of races.
“Will he make running his career for a while?” Beckwith asked.
“Jeremy wants to continue racing, but he also wants to farm, Daddy. He’s already bought forty acres.”
The waitress swung past their table every fifteen minutes, coffeepot and teapot in hand. After two hours, she stopped asking if they wanted anything more, figuring they’d let her know.
“What the blazes are they jabbering on about, Twyla?” asked the cook. Sweat dripped from his furrowed brow into tomorrow’s pastry dough.
“Somethin’ to do with hogs an’ the Olympics,” the waitress said, genuinely perplexed.
“I reckon they’re not lovers,” Twyla muttered. “Else they wouldn’t go on and on talkin’.”
* * * * *
“Good evening, Cable Sports Network fans. I’m H. R. Javitts, coming to you from the U.S. Olympic Trials in Knoxville, Tennessee. Today, nine more American women earned berths on the Olympic team.
“Tia Wapiti, a Native American from New Mexico, ran the world’s fastest time this year, 50.76 seconds, to capture the 400-meter hurdles. Miss Wapiti led the field by fifteen meters at the finish line, where I caught up to her for this interview.”
The producer cued the video tech to run the tape.
“Tia, describe your race for the people watching at home,” Javitts purred, “while we replay it on the monitor.”
The trademark abrasiveness was absent from Javitts’ voice. Viewers across the continent could hardly believe their eyes and ears.
Tia humbly described her record-setting circuit of the track, told when she brushed hurdles, and gave unnecessary credit to her outdistanced opponents.
“And could you please share with us your training?” prompted Javitts.
“I usually cover sixty miles a week,” Tia said, barely audible. Javitts sidled next to her and placed the microphone nearer her lips.
“I run hurdles every Monday and Wednesday, hills on Tuesday, repeat 400s on Thursday, Saturdays I race. Every Sunday, I run ten miles.”
“And who coaches you, Tia, your brother Kivato?”
“Oh, no!” she blurted, with a larger voice. “I am coached by Señor Animas. He is the best coach in the world.” She grinned at the camera.
Javitts flashed back onto the screen in present time, no wisecracks slipping from his teeth. The owner of Cable Sports had given “Home Run” a choice: take a walk or cover women’s sports with dignity. Forty-five percent of the station’s viewers were female and 100% of them were disgusted with his demeaning sportscasts.
“Lydia Krueger captured the triple jump with a Trials record of 46’10” and Leticia Warren sped to victory in the 200 meters, clocking 22.35 seconds.”
Film clips of the winners aired as Javitts’ voice explained the action.
“Damn good,” muttered Bill Szymczak to himself.
“What’s damn good?” Sarah asked, stepping from the bathroom to glimpse the TV screen.
“This announcer’s been lousy for years. Now he’s doing a great job – in track and field!”
Javitts continued, previewing the next day’s events.
“America’s top hope for an Olympic medal in the women’s 1500-meter run, Sarah Herrington . . .”
“Sarah!” hollered Bill. “He’s talking about you!”
” . . . expected to win tomorrow’s final. Experts believe she is the only American capable of competing with the Chinese and Europeans in the metric mile at the Olympic Games next month.”
“Other finals tomorrow are the men’s 400, the men’s 5,000, the men’s high jump, and the women’s javelin.”
“That’s it from Knoxville, track fans. This is Horace R. Javitts, signing off. Back to you at the studio, Deborah.”
“Hah! Horace. I wondered about that,” Bill said to Sarah who was oblivious, blow drying her hair.
* * * * *
An inch of rain fell during the men’s steeplechase semis. Twenty-four qualified athletes loosened up in a downpour, splashed through their event, then cooled down, cleansed by pounding rain.
The aluminum curb, although designed to drain, could not drain fast enough. Water stood on the track, 1-1/2 lanes wide. In addition to their seven twelve-foot-wide water hazards, and twenty-eight barriers, the runners dealt with three thousand meters of shallow water.
Jeremy Stanfield and Jason Christianson hit the front in the first semifinal, more to avoid being splashed in the face than as a tactic. Alternating the lead, they ran in Lane 3 on the straights and splashed along the curb on the curves.
Christianson won in the slow time of 8:38; Jeremy eased back to finish fourth among the six qualifiers.
In the second semifinal, Kerry O’Neal ran just to qualify, placing sixth. Robert Black won in 8:45. O’Neal’s 8:50 was his slowest time in six years.