The Swim Meet
A few weeks ago, my husband and I attended a neighborhood swim meet at Woodhaven Swim Club in Washington Township. Our two granddaughters, new to swim team, were groomed with swim caps and “WOODHAVEN” written across their backs with black marker. They were all in. We joined with a multitude of other family fans on a hot, sticky, late June evening.
Everyone was dressed down in shorts and flip flops, and the mood was easy and wet. I felt like I was in a time warp. Not much has changed in the 25 years since my last neighborhood swim meet. The snack bar offered the classic, “walking tacos” (you know, snack bags of Fritos topped with a dollop of ground beef and pinch of cheese). Parking was still a problem, and the clusters of young teammates in matching swimsuits met fun with competition.
The meet began with the youngest of swimmers, some no taller than a yard stick standing on the start blocks awaiting their “6 and under” event. That means 5 and 6-year-olds jump from the relatively high platform into the water and swim a half-length of the pool. WHAT? To a non-neighborhood swim meet veteran, this sounds crazy. I mean, not all 5 or 6 year olds have the stamina or technique to swim independently to their finish line. For such little ones, the whole thing might be daunting. I remember my own son having a melt-down at the age of 5. However, as is protocol for these events, older swimmers jump in so that each lane is equip with a “catcher” ready to help and support. These buddies disarm any anxiety for the little swimmers. Building trust and confidence in a swimming pool is immeasurable. I watched as the “catchers” guaranteed victory and accomplishment for those learning what it means to be part of the game. What a winning moment.
The meet continued. It was fun seeing 8 year old backstrokers reset themselves over and over again as they veered into the lane ropes. Undeterred and without fail, every swimmer finished the race. The crowd cheered especially loud for those swimmers in last place struggling towards the end. They continued to put one wobbly stroke in front of the other. There were no losers, only victors.
And then there was the race of one. For whatever reason, there was only one participant in the boys butterfly event. He looked to be about 8 or 9, and the announcer noted through the loudspeaker that this swimmer was going it alone. And just like that, the entire periphery of pool spectators became a cheering squad for 1. We applauded. We shouted words of encouragement. As he touched the finish line, the yells of triumph could be heard from all corners of the pool. I found myself jumping up and down for this courageous young swimmer. It takes guts to own the pool without the benefit of peers swimming alonside, but he did. I didn’t even know what team he was swimming for. It didn’t matter. The collective and universal outpouring for this young swimmer was uplifting. It just felt good to be part of something so positive and heartening.
As we anticipate the upcoming Summer Olympics in Paris, I can’t help but wonder about all the incredible and accomplished swimmers who may have discovered their grit on a neighborhood swim team. Perhaps the future gold medalists began their road to championship with a “catcher” waiting to help. I’m certain their early races caught the attention of all spectators and hopefully they heard the cheers coming from everywhere. How do I know this? That’s just how our neighborhood swim meets go. Some things never change.