Chapter Forty-Six
Backtrack - Grace
When my alarm goes off at five thirty, I quickly swipe my phone off the nightstand to silence it. I barely slept at all last night, because this is the morning McCall and Jax’s article goes live. In fact, I know it’s live right now.
I take a deep breath, trying to calm my nerves.
McCall let me read the nearly final version yesterday—and oh my God, she and Jax have one hundred percent caught the athletic department off-guard.
They worked all weekend, and pulled in a graphic artist, too, for some very interesting budget graphics.
Like, in the span of six years, under our current athletic director? The compensation budget has grown from forty-five million to eighty million.
And there’s no way they’ll come close to correcting that budget bloat by cutting Olympic programs like artistic swimming, fencing, and squash.
The article has nailed them in their attempt to do this under the radar, asking why teams are in the dark about the potential closure of their programs. Why not give the programs some time to see if they can fundraise and line up sponsorships, with a plan to self-support in the future?
McCall got a lame response.
“In these difficult financial times, we might have to make some heartbreaking, tough decisions. But this is part of our annual financial review, and we are only in the discussion stage,” according to a spokesperson for the department.
“We will absolutely involve the teams that might be impacted during the budget process.”
I pull the blanket over my head to block out the light from my phone, so I won’t wake Maddie. McCall told me to be sure to read the article today when it came out. She had a few things she was tinkering with and wanted me to read the official version when it ran.
I go to the sports magazine’s website. My eyes widen when I see it’s the big article on the page, with a huge headline: Will OCU Make Olympic Sports Expendable?
Oh my God. They used my picture from inside our locker room, with a missing ceiling tile next to a stained one, showing the old lockers and outdated flooring, next to one of the luxury smoothie station for the hockey team, the custom chairs with engraved sharks on them in the dining hall, and a golf simulator in the football complex.
I see McCall and Jax’s byline, and I feel nothing but gratitude for my friend.
For taking this on, for spending all day Sunday and most of Monday on it, and putting this together as quickly as possible.
I begin to read it. McCall and Jax wrote about the anonymous sources that tipped off the story, their questions to the athletic department, and my own quotes about the idea of losing artistic swimming without even a conversation to try and save it.
“I chose to pursue my degree at OCU, in part, because of the opportunity to be on the artistic swimming team,” sophomore Grace Walsh said.
“I would hate to think our team will be eliminated without the athletic department engaging in conversations with us about alternatives. If we need to self-support to keep our team, at least give us the opportunity to do that.”
McCall and Jax also pointed out that cutting most of the Olympic sports at OCU would also disproportionately impact female athletes.
When the athletic department was asked if they were prepared to face potential lawsuits over that, they maintained “everything is in a conversation stage” and of course, they “care deeply about all of the athletes in our OCU family.”
Right.
But then I see something new, that wasn’t there before. It’s a quote from Wyatt.
“I think we can find money in the budgets for the powerhouse sports to help with the budget for our fellow athletes,” said Wyatt Jacobs, a junior on the hockey team.
“I’m lucky, I have a luxe new training facility, but I had no idea the artistic swimmers didn’t even have ceiling tiles or shower nozzles that worked correctly. ”
Jacobs went on to talk about the formation of Twenty Together, with all twenty sports teams ready to stand together to save the sports teams that might be in jeopardy at OCU.
“We have connections with our supporters. Like legal counsel,” Jacobs continued. “Which we will consult if needed.”
Tears fill my eyes. I didn’t know Wyatt had spoken. I mean, I know he said he would, but here he is, putting himself out there, to try and help save artistic swimming.
I love him so much, I think, blinking the tears back.
Then another quote catches my eye.
“The football team is firmly behind Twenty Together,” said Asher Ryan, one of the top-ranked quarterbacks in the nation. “We think all athletes deserve a chance to pursue their dreams at OCU. I find it hard to believe that eliminating ten programs is going to solve all of the budget problems.”
I stare at the quote, stunned. Asher is involved? When did McCall get that? I have so many questions I have to ask her later.
I finish the article, and the athletic department looks very bad in it. I know this will get not only a lot of attention on campus, but national attention now that the major sports teams are speaking out.
For the first time in a long time, when I think about the future of artistic swimming, I smile. I think they will come to the table to talk to us.
And my team might have a future here after all.
***
Today has been insane. Exhilarating but insane.
I think about this as I head back to Phi Mu Phi for lunch.
I was greeted with cheers at swim practice this morning, and lots of hugs from my teammates for fighting for the team.
Coach Paulley pulled me aside and told me how grateful and how proud of me she was, which meant everything.
My phone started blowing up with notifications from media who wanted to interview me for their stories.
I’m going to do an interview for the campus TV station after lunch, and I’ve already talked to some national media outlets in between classes.
I never saw myself as an activist. I shake my head in disbelief. I remember at the start of the year, I just wanted to stay out of the drama.
Now I’ve put myself firmly in it, I think with a sense of amazement, but I have no regrets.
I sent Wyatt a message this morning, telling him how grateful I am for his support, for not only me, but all the teams that might be in trouble. He sent me a message back saying it was the least he could do and that he loved me. That he would always have my back.
And I know he means it. McCall told me Wyatt was the one who got Asher onboard. At first, I couldn’t believe it. Wyatt can’t stand Asher, and I know asking him to do anything is the last thing he’d ever want to do. When I asked him about it, his reply back to me was simple:
He can help. That’s all that matters, Gracie. Because I will do anything I need to do to help you.
I smile as I walk up the steps to the house and follow a group of girls inside. When Celine Mycowski sees me, she stops and flashes a big smile. “Oh my God, Grace! I saw your quote in that article McCall wrote. You’re such a badass!”
“McCall is the badass,” I insist. “She’s a brilliant reporter.”
Girls continue asking me questions as we head up the stairs and part ways.
I use my key card to open my door, and I set my backpack on the floor, near my desk.
I grab a notebook and a pen and sit crisscross on my bed as I go through my voicemail, writing down the reporters who want to talk to me.
Then my dad’s number comes up, and I hold my breath.
“Gracie, it’s Dad. I read the article about the sports programs you sent me and your quote,” he begins.
“I’m really proud of you for standing up for something you love.
I’m just sorry I was never there for you in the way you needed me to be when you were first pursuing your passion.
I know it’s not nearly enough, but when you get a fund started for artistic swimming, I’m ready to make a donation.
And I think I can get some corporate partners who would want to sponsor as well. Love you.”
I blink back tears. Dad gets it. He’s sorry for the past, and he wants me to pursue my passion now. I stop and send him a quick text thanking him for his support. Then I freeze when I hear who the next message is from.
My mom.
My stomach dips as I brace for her message.
“Hi, Grace. Well, I know you’ve talked to your dad and your sister, and they obviously have a different opinion of the drastic changes in your life.
Natasha told me you spoke out against potential decisions the athletic department might make, and none of this seems like you.
I think you might need therapy, Grace. You’re making all of these wild decisions—dropping literature, speaking out to the media, now dating a hockey player?
None of these things are part of the daughter who drove off for college a month ago.
I’m alarmed. But I’m sure this message will fall on deaf ears.
Just know I do love you, and I will be here when you need help correcting all these mistakes.
I just hope the call comes before it’s too late. ”
I delete the message and stare at my phone. A slew of emotions ripple through me. Hurt. Disappointment. Anger. Love. Because she’s still my mom. I do love her. And my hope is that she will love the new me—no, the real me—once she gets used to the idea that this is who I am now.
Because I’m going to continue to pursue artistic swimming.
I’m going to be an advocate to save the Olympic sports at OCU.
I have an appointment with my academic advisor tomorrow to change my major to fashion media.
Mom is right. My life is completely different than the one I had a month ago.
I’m different, and I’m going to give her time to get used to it.