49 Days After
Asher
Five weeks into classes starting, we finally have our first coach-led practices.
And today is our first stroke clinic. Both of our coaches plus all three of our grad assistants are on deck, each one of them positioned at the end of a lane.
While we swim pool lengths, they watch our form and bark out corrections.
We swim each drill until everyone has it right.
It’s exactly what I do for my club team, except I have to sound way nicer when I’m yelling out corrections, because they’re twelve.
Two lanes down from me, Sidney is swimming her third lap of this drill, struggling to correct her rotation.
She’s hanging off of the deck looking frustrated as David, one of our grad assistants, crouches in front of her, tapping her shoulder as he tells her whatever it is she needs to correct.
She plunges down into the water and takes off with a push again, but David doesn’t seem to be pleased.
The entire practice, it seems to be nothing but David yelling, Sidney listening, and shoulders being tapped.
Tap tap tap. By the end of practice I don’t know who I’m frustrated with, but I am.
Sidney wants to be friends. I’ve had a really hard time picturing what that looks like in my head, so mostly I’ve still been avoiding her.
But maybe being friends with Sidney looks a lot like being teammates.
And if it had been Ryan struggling today, I know what I’d do.
After practice I stand outside my locker room door, waiting for Sidney to come through.
After what feels like an eternity, she emerges, her hair twisted into a damp mess of curls on top of her head.
For how long she was in there, I didn’t expect her to emerge looking like she’d just jumped out of the pool.
She sighs when she sees me, running a hand over her hair, like she’s smoothing it back.
“What’s the deal with your arm?” I say, falling into step with her as she passes.
“Didn’t you hear?” She raises her eyebrows at me in annoyance. “It has a mind of its own.”
“That’s never been a problem for you before. That’s your strongest stroke.”
“I don’t know.” She shrugs. “I feel like I was picked up and dropped in a new land.” I look at her sideways and she shakes her head like I’m an idiot. “New school, new teammates, new pool. I don’t know, I’m just a ball of nerves in the water right now.”
I don’t say anything, because I don’t know what to tell her.
Does that make me the worst future sports psychologist ever?
I haven’t even taken a class yet, I doubt I’m supposed to be doling out psychological advice, but still.
I smile at the thought of telling my dad that I’m throwing in the towel and it’s all Sidney’s fault for wrecking my confidence.
We walk together through the double doors and out onto the sidewalk, still in silence.
When she turns to the left and I turn to the right, she gives me a tiny wave, and walks away so fast she’s practically jogging.
Maybe I really don’t know how to be friends with her.