I spent the entirety of Saturday unpacking and settling in. By the time the clock struck four, I found myself trekking up the stairs to the entrance of Penfield's Sports Complex.
The building was big enough to house about five large lecture theatres. With pristine white walls contrasting with the black marble tiled floors, one would think they'd wandered into a sanctuary for athletes. Everything was in here; courts for every sporting activity you could think of, offices for the coaches of the various teams, gyms stocked with the latest equipment, a fully furnished lounge area with a cafe that advertised nothing but healthy foods, plus a mini boutique that sold all the needed sporting gear. The university's management must be a huge fan of sports, since they'd invested this much in keeping athletes in their best shape.
As I loitered around the first floor, in search of the swimming court, I landed in a hallway that had floor-to-ceiling windows on both sides, each one overlooking a particular indoor court. On the left was the basketball court with players hobbling after the orange ball, Jordans squeaking against the polished floors. On my right sat the very court I was looking for. Quickening my steps, I located the entrance and pushed past the doors.
The place was wide and spacious like a football field, but instead of a field in the middle, there was a rectangular pool with red vertical lines, dividing the pool into ten lanes. And in those lanes, people splashed through, trying their best to make it to the other end of the pool. Tryouts had already started.
Hoping I wasn't late, I moved past the bleachers, down to the edge of the pool where some students sauntered around in their swimming gear, whilst others were dressed in blue shorts and white t-shirts with the Penfield's Sharks logo printed boldly in the middle. I soon realised that those wearing the t-shirts were all members of the swim team because Ethan sat amongst them, sporting the same get-up. His eyes flitted over to me, bringing a smile to his lips.
"Hey, you made it." He came over to where I stood.
"Yeah." After clasping my hand in a handshake, I said, "Hope I'm not late."
"Nah, we started with the girls so you still have more time. But you should get changed, where's your swimming gear?"
"Uuh..." I rubbed my neck, casting a look down. "I... don't have any. I was just planning to try out in my underwear."
"What? No." Ethan draped an arm across my shoulder. "Come on, I think I have some new spares in my locker. Hopefully, they'll fit."
He led me through a set of double doors that opened up to a lit hallway with waves painted on the walls. It branched off in two directions, and as we took the left turn, a bright blue plaque held the words Boys' Locker Room in white lettering. Ethan shoved the door open, only to find the buffed guy from yesterday and some girl in a very...compromising position.
"Ah Seth, really!" Ethan's yell startled them apart. Embarrassed, the buffed guy got on his feet with a bashful smile.
"What have I told you about bringing girls into our locker room?"
"Sorry, sorry." The buffed guy put his hands up in surrender, but Ethan wasn't done scolding yet. He shifted his attention to the girl who was taking her sweet time picking up her shirt and bag from the floor.
"And you, Amina. As the assistant team captain, you should know better."
"Oh please." Amina stood up from the bench. She was a fair, short girl with long silky dark hair. "Don't act so innocent. I know you've smashed a couple of girls in here before."
The statement took Ethan by surprise. "Shut up and get out!" He snarled, which had Amina chuckling as she exited the locker room. She didn't even bother putting her shirt back on.
"What are you even doing here, Ethan?" The buffed guy asked whilst pulling the team's t-shirt over his head. "Shouldn't you be helping coach with the tryouts."
"I am," Ethan replied without looking back. He now stood in front of his locker, rummaging through the metallic container. "I just came here to get him this." Out of the blue, he threw a colourless packet at me and I absentmindedly caught it. The thing ruffled in my hands as I examined the content; blue shorts, a matching cap and some goggles.
"Oh you're that guy from yesterday," The buffed guy said and I looked up to find his eyes running down my frame. "You trying out for the team?"
"Yeah."
"Huh...are you sure that's a good idea?" His brows furrowed. "Cuz you look so...I dunno, frail."
"You're one to talk." Ethan jumped in. "When you first joined the team, you were just like him."
"Bull! I was way thicker than him."
"Whatever." He shook his head, turning back to his locker.
"Well, goodluck out there, small fry." The buffed guy moved in my direction and gave me a powerful pat on my shoulder. "You're gonna need it." After throwing me a teasing smirk, he exited the room.
"Ignore Seth," Ethan assured me. "He may come off as a jerk sometimes, but he's one of the coolest guys on the team, trust me. You might even become friends."
"Yeah. Might," I mumbled, not sure I wanted to become friends with a guy like him.
"Try on the jammers. They're the smallest size I have so it should fit. I'll be waiting outside," Ethan instructed as he headed towards the door.
Nodding, my attention veered back to the packet in my hands and I ripped it open, pulling out the jammers. They were dark blue with a couple of white stripes on the sides and the Penfield's Sharks logo on the bottom corner of the left leg hole. The jammers also stretched like spandex and I wondered if they'd be comfortable. Nevertheless, I ruffled out of my clothes and pulled the stretchy material up my legs. Surprisingly enough, they were snug, covering my thighs and ending right before my knees. Picking up my clothes, I pushed them all into Ethan's locker and made my way out of the room with the swim cap and goggles in hand.
"Oh good, they fit," Ethan commented once I stepped out.
"Yeah, and are quite comfortable."
"Great. Now, a few things you should know about the tryouts," Ethan started as he steered me back to the pool. "It's a 100meter race for each swim style, that's breaststroke, butterfly and freestyle. The average cut off point is 2 minutes. Anything above that and the coach wouldn't even dream of putting you on the team. So do whatever you can to stay below 2 minutes, got that?"
"Yeah sure." I nodded.
The moment we stepped out, a dark tall woman with a braided ponytail blew the whistle dangling from the chain round her neck. "Ok! We're officially done with tryouts for the ladies. The gentlemen, it's your turn now. Please warm up and find a lane."
"Goodluck." With a soft pat, Ethan left my side to join his teammates. Heeding the instruction, I slowly stalked towards the fourth lane and after a few stretches, prepping myself up for the swim, I climbed on top of the fourth block. Three other guys took the blocks numbered one to three on my left whilst four guys took the remaining ones on my right.
I swallowed. The last time I swam competitively was in primary school, and that was way back in 2007. After I got promoted to junior high, my growing responsibilities as the only man at home didn't give me the time to tolerate an extracurricular activity. That was how swimming ended up becoming a hobby for me.
But now, as I stood here, prepping myself to jump back into the competitive sport, my nerves were on red alert and my heart was thumping like a base drum. Taking a moment to shut my eyes and steady my breathing, I calmed my erratic heart with words of comfort. You've got this Akwasi, you've got this. Forget about the others beside you. This is going to be just like any other regular swim at the beach.
"Hey, aren't you going to put your cap and goggles on?" A voice sliced through my thoughts and my eyes flew open.
The guy on my right stared at me through blue tinted goggles. He tapped them on the side. "Your cap and goggles?"
"Oh right!" My hand snapped into motion, realising I was the only one not wearing them. And as I shoved them on, the coach bellowed out.
"We're starting with the 100meter breaststroke race. At the sound of my whistle, you guys are to swim all the way to the other end of the pool, slap the tile and swim back. Your times for each race will be recorded, tallied and used to determine who gets on the team, so swim your heart out."
My heart was literally threatening to jump out and do that.
"On your marks!"
I bent low with the others, hands gripping the tiled block.
"Get set!"
I swallowed, watching the water ripple before me.
Pii!
I threw myself in, kicking my legs as hard as I could before emerging at the top to begin my strokes. Extending my arms, I brought my hands together, palms facing outside and began to part the water sideways as I propelled myself forward with my legs. I kept my torso stiff, head above the water and pushing myself to go faster, because from the corner of my eye, I saw that I was slowly falling behind. The guy who had prompted me to wear my cap and goggles was way ahead of me, splashing water across my lane.
Shit. Thrusting myself forward, I pushed to go beyond any limits I had. I soon reached the end of the pool, slapped the title hard enough that I felt it vibrate through my arm, then flipped over, forcing myself under the water and coming back up to continue my strokes.
Cheers filtered through my ears along with ferocious splashes. Come on. Come on, we're almost there. I hurried through the rest of my lane and slapped the tile a second time.
The sharp sound of the whistle cut through the air and I pulled the goggles off, blinking the blue tint out of my eyes. I swam underneath the lane dividers to the stairs, where the other swimmers were pulling themselves up to dry ground. Once I had climbed onto the side of the pool, I saw Ethan approaching, looking a bit disappointed.
"How bad was it?" I asked, brushing the remaining droplets of water out of my face.
"1 minute, 50 seconds," he replied. "You narrowly escaped the cut-off point and placed seventh out of eight swimmers."
"Shit." Dejected, I plopped down on the nearest bleacher.
"Look, you need to do better than this if you want to make the team. Bring out your 'A' game, ok?"
"Yeah, I know, I know." I nodded, licking my lips. "Who won by the way?"
"That guy, Daniel." Ethan turned, pointing at the very guy who told me to wear my swim cap and goggles. "He beat you all in 1 minute, 38 seconds. Impressive, but you can still beat him."
"Yeah..." My eyes remained glued to the guy. He was about my height, muscular, brown skinned, pointed nose and had a big wide grin as he spoke with some of the girls who had also come to try out for the team. His face printed itself in my brain, labelling it as 'No. 1 Competitor.' If I was going to make it onto the team, I needed to prove to myself and everyone that I could beat this guy.
The coach's whistle punctured my eardrums again and all attention turned to her. "Ok guys! Break is over. It's time for the 100meter butterfly race, so can you please find your lanes?"
"Remember, your 'A' game," Ethan whispered before stepping aside to let me pass. I moved over to the pool, climbing onto the block for lane four and pulled my goggles on.
"Glad you remembered this time," Daniel smiled at me as he climbed up his block.
"Yeah," I grinned in return, but with a hidden intent.
You are so going down.