The Dodecathlon

The Month I was the Greatest Athlete in the World, and won the first and only every-sport contest

 

My name is Des Turner. For a while, I was the greatest athlete in the world. I didn't think about it at the time. I just wanted to do many things well and compete with others who wanted to see how much they could do. You would see me for the first time, as I woke before dawn, dressed quietly and left the house. I jogged down to the South river in Waynesboro and undressed. Then dove in. The water was cold, so I swam quickly. Where the river turned the corner I saw three of my friends, Jim, Carl and Mike standing on the dock. When they saw me they starting taking off their sweat suits and stretching.

— You're asking, if I am the greatest athlete in the world, why haven't you heard of me? Fair question. Because I am not great at any one event. Most famous athletes are great at one part of one sport, like batting or pitching in baseball, and are dramatically forgettable at the other parts and pathetic in other sports. I am very good at many sports, so I invented the dodecathlon and I have the highest number ever recorded for it, 9500. I am going to tell you about it—

Meanwhile, when we were all in the water, we took off upstream. It gradually seemed warmer as we worked to outdo each other. After 20 minutes we turned around and swam back to the dock, racing the last 100 meters. I was fourth. I was always fourth in practice. I simply had trouble competing in imaginary, unwitnessed contests.

I never really thought of being a great athlete. I just enjoyed swimming. But, baseball was my passion, not watching it, but playing it, pitching, fielding, batting, and running the bases. I became very good in our sandlot league. I pitched left or right handed and I batted left or right. In my favorite game of all time, I pitched the opposite to each hitter and hit three home runs, two left and one right. I almost ruined it by deciding to jump over the opponent's bench after the last home run-I didn't quite clear the bench, tripped and the entire team ended up on their backs in the dust. I was embarrassed because I felt clumsy; they were angry because they thought I knocked over the bench on purpose.

I never tried out for our high school team. I always felt it was a step down from the sandlot teams. After a decade of swimming and ball, I became exposed to other sports. Football at the high school, then track, wrestling and basketball. At wrestling it was impossible to pin me. Alas, my weakness was that I was not very good at pinning my opponents.

My father, Wes (short for 'Soyouwes') was good with weapons and targets, which I found odd since he spent the war working in a laboratory. I always wondered if this was how he compensated, but I never dared to ask him. We started out with darts. He kept the darts locked up when we did not play. We found these to be somewhat dull, once we got good at it. Sometimes Evan and I would go outside and put the dartboard on the wood pile. Then we would walk twenty or thirty yards away and throw them as hard as we could. We became quite good at "distance darts" as we called the game.

When we were older, he bought us a bow, which we shared. We made our own targets with bales of hay, which we stacked and pinned paper targets to. We became good at that also. Because we were senseless boys, we also shot at squirrels and people's pets, until we were good at moving targets and had to stop before the neighbors got too suspicious. When we went to camp one year, we took all the medals in archery.

When I was fourteen, we graduated to rifles. Due to neighborhood rules, we had to join a shooting club for that. We all had a natural bent to put small holes into small targets with small-bore weapons. After a year, we all won medals in that also.

 

Our town had a public swimming pool. It was our practice to go there every day. And after the first year we all had jobs there. Me as a lifeguard assistant. Ryan and Evan as pool assistants, cleaning up messes and topping up the chlorine.

I started diving, also. The board was a wooden board but had good action. I found a short book in the library with some black and white pictures of the basic dives. I became a fair diver, doing a good assortment of twisting and somersaulting dives. One day when I was practicing, the women's coach asked for help with girl's water ballet. At first all they wanted was someone to dive through a circle of kicking legs, which I could do. Then I started doing one and a half and two and a half somersaults. I also became accomplished at changing into a swimsuit in a car, since the places we performed usually had only one locker room.

As I worked with the girls, I started to think of new ways to add dives to their routines, so that sometimes I would dive a long shallow dive when they were at the end of the pool, then come up between them, do a few kicks, and swim back underwater to the one-meter board, jump out of the water, half twist to catch the end of the board and swing myself back up for the conclusion.

I became not only intimately acquainted with the girls, from missing the dives or losing my suit or accidentally pulling down one of their suits, but I almost liked one of them.

I practiced every kind of new dive, learning or inventing twisting dives that I could work into the water ballet routines.

 

The first time I saw Joe Benson, he was on the diving board. He had been doing simple warm-ups, front dives tuck, then pike, then layout, Then half twists from each position. I said do something hard. He ignored me. I started diving, trying some of my best somersaults and twisting dives to show off. After a while, he walked out slowly, stepped high, came off the board into a reverse somersault, but landed back on the board and did an easy one and a half somersaults forward into the water. I envisioned myself doing that.

I asked him to teach me. He said, maybe, in his offhand way. It took me a year to do that backward-forward dive. By then, we acted as a team. I had abandoned the water ballet, so that we could give exhibitions at various pools around the state. We also worked up a comedy routine, where he would be trying a world-class dive and I would run out afterwards and miss the first bounce and careen off the side of the board and land flailing in the water. I also developed many double-bouncing dives, such as a seven and a half somersault off the three-meter board. Then a five and a half somersault off the one-meter. Of course, I should accurately say that these dives entered around the last half somersault, often becoming seven and a quarter or seven and three-quarters, much to my pain and chagrin.

When Joe left to work in Florida, diving at some theme park there, I wanted to go, but my parents refused to allow it. So, I started diving for the local team, the Sharks. Shortly afterwards I won the local, regional and state titles. My required dives always seemed weak and uninspired, but the complex optional dives made up for it. On occasion, there was no posted degree of difficulty for a dive I did, so the judges would assign one from some similar, easier dive.

It turned out that, in addition to trick diving and formal competition diving, that I was extremely good at swimming the butterfly, mainly because no one else could master the kick. So I became a specialist on our swim team. Our town had another swim team, the Dolphins, who only swam in the summer; we were driven to Staunton to practice in the winter at the small overheated YMCA pool. On our medley relay I swam butterfly, and on the freestyle relay I swam freestyle. Even with freestyle I used the dolphin kick for the first fifteen meters underwater (and then for backstroke and breaststroke, also, when I didn't get disqualified). At first we were only regional champions, then state champions. But in 1964, we won the national AAU National Championship for the 400 medley relay.

Usually, towards the end of every swimming meet I would participate in the diving competition. Oddly enough, I was always tired. Then they switched diving to first in the meets and I would be tired for the swimming events. The coach, knowing this, would always say, "Des, I need you to get third place for the team points". Once I decided that I could get the state record in 100 butterfly, so I went out fast, very fast, faster than I ever had, but I faded in the last few meters and ended up third, only much more tired than my usual third place.

In diving I had no such restrictions by the coach, who didn't pay much attention-he assumed I would get first or second in the meets and counted on it. One year I skipped the state championship and went to a national meet at Kelly pool in Philadelphia. I was third. I should have done better, but I was nervous and uneven. Two years later I started at the state level again, getting third the first year, second the second years and first place for the third year in Richmond. That year the Olympic coach, Dick Smith, came to watch me and offered me a chance to come to a demonstration and workshop of his in Phoenix. He brought one diver from his "stable." She was excellent in required dives but uninspired in optionals. The coach said I would never go farther without a coach and that I would never make the Olympics without his help. I foolishly said I was happy with my current coach, myself. He told me some story about courts, judges, lawyers, and clients who represented themselves. I wasn't in court, although I suppose I was being judged. I was sure that my parents would never let me go anyway since I was being groomed to be a chemist like my father and had a long academic schedule to keep. I could hear the echoes of my mother's voice, saying, Dekaeayough, focus on your career." She always called my by my full name, never the "Deskai" that my father used for me or by my preferred ‘Des.’ I am called Des, because the name is always shortened to be pronounced. I am called Turner for the same reason that so many Irish and Polish have shorter names now-making paperwork easier for people with intimidating foreign names, although of course, we were not the foreigners!

 

After 1960 there was a new resident in Waynesboro, Gunther Hess. He claimed to have been on the German fencing team, whose responsibility was to train Hitler and some of his officers in this gentlemanly and warriorly sport. Although I seem to remember in its earlier manifestation in Germany it resulted in many, many scars on the faces of the gentlemen. In any case, he organized a fencing team after school. Me and four others, including two from the local military academy, came daily and learned and practiced.

I bought a foil from the proceeds of my paper route or life guard activities-the money went into one account, so I didn't pay much attention to the exact source. We learned the basic stance, movements, and positions. It soon sorted out that three of us were far better than the others. Dirk Woolworth, a slight kid with a scar on his face, who fought with great finesse left-handed, Chris Stone, a hulking beefy military-academy guy who fought with right-handed strength and resoluteness rather than skill or finesse, and me, who was ambidextrous and planned my bouts according to the opponents weaknesses or strengths.

Because there was no state level competitions, the best would go to the national meet. My first duel was with Chris. He threatened to slice me to pieces. If we had to fight with tongues, he would have won. I watched his approach. As he tried to stab downward-his height was an advantage-I swung sideways and scored on his chest. The next time I tried that, he stabbed downward, ripping the rubber point off and cutting the back of my hand. I was too excited to feel the pain, but I had to get it bandaged right away. I was asked if I wanted to stop. I thought that was unnecessary. But, I was distracted and he scored the next point quickly. So, I took a break and asked Rich if I could borrow his foil for the rest of the match. I was reluctant to use mine left-handed, although I had practiced with it. So, I switched to left-handed. That confused Chris and I scored running away, literally, as he thought he could race in for a quick point. When I took my mask off, there was a bright scratch on the left side of my arm from another of his strong misses. I watched him take off his jacket. I noticed that he had a new foil with a pistol-grip handle.

I offered Rich my foil for our match. He declined with a smile. I smiled too, knowing that he thought being left-handed gave him an advantage. I had always fought against him right-handed, so I decided to use my own foil in my left hand for this match. It would also give my right hand a rest. We were evenly matched and each scored two points quite rapidly. For the final point, we went back and forth down the strip (the piste) three times. I had been studying his movements for weakness. When he lunged again I leaned far over the strip, almost leaning horizontally and scored. The judge immediately called a foul, which I argued against it for a few minutes to no avail. My feet had not left the strip, although he claimed one foot was off the strip. The point continued. Neither of us could get an advantage. Fencing rarely lasted more than a few attacks and ripostes. Then he touched my armpit and received a score although I thought it missed the target area by several inches. Again, I could not prevail against the judge and lost the match.

Although Rich was supposed to go to Detroit by dint of his victory in our local championships, Gunther decided that I was the best candidate, an assessment that I agreed with. My ability to switch to right or left. My subtlety and patience. Humility. Openness.

So, I went with him to the nationals. I had never been in an electrified competition before. Although I preferred the idea to the unreliability of human judgment, I kept getting tangled up. My first match went quite badly. I only scored once. The second match was very close. After losing the first two points I came back to take the next two. I was getting used to my electronic leash. The last point I simply tried too hard to win, instead of waiting for an opening. I had lost both of my matches. Gunther won both of his. I watched him and compared his style with mine. Although I was more acrobatic and athletic, and perhaps more graceful in the long reaches, he was perfectly poised and perfectly precise. We won our division team title in Detroit. I could not decide whether to feel great or miserable, or both.

 

The next year I went to college. Despite a scholarship from Columbia, I went to Penn State so I could be on the gymnastics team. Their chemistry program was rated highly but was surrounded by the uninspired humanity and social courses that guarded it with their mass. I sat in class, but my heart only started beating in the afternoon.

Trampoline was my specialty. Actually, I was most graceful when I was in the air, and I was incomparable in that medium. I never became good at strength moves, on rings or high bar, but I became serviceable on the floor exercise, parallel bars and pommel horse.

We practiced with the harness for difficult moves, the coach screaming at us the entire time that we were animals. Yes, I thought, trained animals that would rather be sleeping or rutting. Many of the jokes were about the hardness of the anatomy of female gymnasts, but when the others went on dates, I practiced. Motorcycles were the choice of transportation, but I could not afford a bicycle, much less.

The next year we won the national championship. I only performed on the trampoline. I never got to do my floor exercise routine.

 

The following year I dropped out. I spent the year running and writing, working as a gardener and trying to get published-even I was shocked by the subversion that the humanities forced on me. The first ten-dollar payment I used to open my account was the most I ever had in it. I finally spent it for groceries.

When I went back to school at Sewanee, The University of The South, I ran track and practiced with the football team, although that team was never formal and we never played real games. I enjoyed being quarterback. Although I was never accurate with a pass, I was very difficult to catch. Most of our plays ended with me running or handing off the ball.

I ran at nights. It seemed so much faster, After my youngest brother died in an accident, I ran faster and more often. Running was my only form of expression.

I dropped out of school. I got a job and saved up for another school. Every time I went to school I dropped out after a summer school or a semester. Every time I dropped out of school, I got a good job as a chemist in a lab. As the jobs got better, I ran less and took classes only part-time.

 

Then I got a job at a university in eastern Washington state. I started playing racquetball and tennis with a group of other engineers. Then I started running again. And, when I lost weight and got my air back, I started swimming and diving.

Some of the guys were in the ROTC and they had to meet certain standards of fitness. So, I started running with them. One day we were running on the golf course. We were passed by three Kenyans, whom the university had imported to help the track team. So, we sped up. The others dropped off after a six hundred yards. I got close, but could get no closer. Then, they pulled away after three or four miles. I nodded and wondered what it would take to become that fast.

I started going longer distances. I ran between the two towns, from Moscow to Pullman and back. That was 17 miles round-trip. One day I was running towards the stadium in Moscow. There was a hundred yard dash ready to start. I accelerated. Just as I was parallel to the start the gun went off. They sprinted, I sprinted. But, the road I was on went up hill. The seconds slowed down. They gained on me but I accelerated with a final burst. If I didn't finish before the fastest of them, then it was a tie. I slowed down, went around the campus and ran back to Pullman.

One day, after Gil and I had played a fast, violent game of racquetball, I asked him if he was good at any other sports. He said no. After running with Jaromil one day, I asked him if he was good at any other sports. He said no. I didn't think more about for a while.

I was playing handball with Greg, when we got on the topic. He had been a baseball player, wrestler, and a runner, an odd combination that I could understand. He even said that he had been an auto racer in Tucson one year-I wanted to hear more about that. I suggested a friendly competition. That we go running next time, around the university track, maybe time ourselves for the mile or 5000 meters. We did. We were closely matched.

I decided to take a master class in swimming, mostly so I would have to swim, but also I was curious about new stroke techniques. I practiced with the women's team sometimes (there did not seem to be a men's team). I was good, usually second or third in the mile, but I was still excellent at butterfly. One day the women's coach, Michelle, matched me up with the best on the women's team and suggested that we race. We started dead equal. When I sped up, she sped up. When I accelerated she did. When I put everything into it, she kept pace. I suspect that she was trying to leave me behind also. But, we were too equal. She was 20; I was 50 something. Our fingertips touched on every overwater stroke. The video of the race looked like a perfect water ballet. We touched at the same time.

Her name was Nancy. After the race I asked her if she was good at any other sports. She said track, tennis and bowling. I asked if she wanted to run or bowl together. She said yes. The next day, I won the run. The following day, she beat me badly at bowling. The week after that, she humiliated me at tennis, which I had never played for more than 20 minutes-at least I felt I should be humiliated. I suggested billiards or pool, but she said it was more likely I would win at that. I suggested that we keep in touch, but she said she had a boyfriend her own age. That was okay with me. My girlfriend was older than I was, but we had grown up with the same music. What would Nancy and I ever talk about or listen to when not being physical? On the other hand, two finely-tuned athletic bodies . . . never mind.

 

During on of my biweekly games with Greg, a youngster barely into his 30s, I asked if he had ever really tried some other sports, such as fencing or gymnastics. He said no, but he was playing pool regularly and was taking a class in judo. So, after work, we started playing pool. Once in a while we went over to the gym to the wrestling area and tried to throw each other. It was very instructive. I started taking my own class in Tai Chi.

One day, after discussing how to rob banks or defraud insurance companies to get rich, I suggested that we try to initiate a different kind of contest. A much more formal contest, where we each would choose five or six sports-not events in a single sport, but different sports-and then compete in one event in each of them. He thought it was a great idea. I suggested that we think about which sports and then think about a scoring system.

I talked to Nancy the next day at swimming practice. She was not enthusiastic-must be the age difference or sex difference-but she said she would think about it.

I went home to my girlfriend Tina and asked her if she wanted to participate. She said only if she could choose finger sports, like typing or tiddlywinks. Later, I thought of one sport she would be really good at, but she pointed out that it was an art, not a sport. I bowed my head respectfully and agreed.

The next swim practice I talked to Nancy again, after the interminable kicking and stroking exercises. She said she had thought about and was 'mildly excited, whatever.' Also, she had an idea of how to score it. The best way might to be to take percentages of current world records in each event in each sport. I asked if it might be better to use an absolute system, maybe set the scores to records for one year, like 1976 or 1992. We both agreed to look at the scoring systems.

I made up some arbitrary rules. For instance, it had to be individual sports, not team sports like football or baseball (well, there goes my strength). It had to be a human body sport, which let out horseback riding or auto racing (there goes one of Greg's strengths).

On a Friday in February, I met with Greg, Nancy, and Jaromil to have the first contest, running. Since Jaromil had pulled a muscle on the track the week before, he said he would be the judge for this contest, and take notes, and participate in any subsequent contests with us, if any of us lived. We decided to call this a dodecathlon, and treat it as two separate competitions of 12 events each. Of course we could have gone to 18 events or 24 or 100, but who would have known those names. There would be 12 events in 12 days, and each athlete chooses six in common with the others and then 6 of her own. Points are scored against world records, set at 1000 points. By the time we finished talking, it was too late to run. And, we had some more figuring to do anyway.

 

The events

So, we met at Karl Marx pizza restaurant early on Monday evening. We decided to each choose six events, then we would compete in all the events. There were only three of us this time. Nancy thought that might be six too many, especially since we decided to only have one event per day (after work or school). Greg thought that it might be unmanageable if we ever had four or more people. Nancy wrote down the list; the number indicated the order of events to be played. We decided to do it alphabetically to avoid any favoritism. We also decided that each event should be scored at a maximum of 1000 points, thus equalizing each event, so that one sport was not considered to be harder than the others (although I believed that some sports, such as gymnastics, were far harder than others, such as tennis, and should be given more points-perhaps on a degree of difficulty basis. No one else agreed). The maximum for all twelve would be 12,000 points. Greg pointed out that we could use some team sports, such as baseball or basketball, if we chose just one individual aspect of the team sport, such as throwing or hitting, but we decided to keep to individual sports. There were, of course, sports that we did not choose to play, such as pole vault, hurdles, skydiving, or skiing. Perhaps in the championships next year someone would select those sports.

We hired three judges from the computer science department, Jaromil, Neil, and Phil, and two from athletics, Rex the track coach and Hamud the racquetball instructor. They would rotate so that each sport would have at least three judges or timers simultaneously.

 

Des's List

15. Swimming (100 meters butterfly) Monday 4/4

6. Diving (six required and five optional dives) Saturday 3/26

7. Fencing (best of three matches) Sunday 3/27

9. Gymnastics (trampoline or floor exercise) Tuesday 3/29

13. Running (10,000 meters) Saturday 4/2

14. Shooting (25 shots, 10 targets) Sunday 4/3

 

Nancy's (she could have chose swimming, but I went first in choosing. Doubtless she thought she had a chance to knock me off in my best sport. The sports that she chose with balls might be a problem for me, though).

4. Bowling (three games) Thursday 3/24

3. Billiards (three games) Wednesday 3/23

2. Bicycling (10,000 meters) Tuesday 3/22

8. Golf (36 holes) Monday 3/28

16. Table tennis Tuesday 4/5

1. Archery (25 arrows, 10 targets) Monday 3/21

 

Greg's (he very cleverly chose sports that should eliminate Nancy and could also give me a hard time).

5. Boxing (6 minutes or 3 rounds) Friday 3/25

10. Judo (6 minutes) Wednesday 3/30

18. Weight-lifting (3 attempts, snatch and c&j) Thursday 4/7

11. Racquetball (3 games to 21 each) Thursday 3/31

17. Tennis (three games) Wednesday 4/6

12. Rowing 1-person (30-minute course) Friday 4/1

 

We decided to have the events be alphabetical, depending on the special requirements, such as a track. We decided to start the competition on Monday March 21^st; temperatures would be moderate; the universities were in session, but we would also have spring break for nine days, which would reduce the competition for the equipment and playing areas.

 

Round One. Archery Monday

Archery went first. We decided to skip ranking rounds for each sport, since there was only three of us, and go straight to modified Olympics rounds. Neither would we have elimination or semi-final rounds for any sport. Nor seeding competitions. To make sure that each sport was equally weighted, each sport had a perfect score of 1000 possible points. This meant for archery, we would have to each shoot 50 arrows. Five ends of ten arrows each, with alternating ends. The target would be at 70 meters. There would be a maximum time of 40 seconds per arrow.

The bows could not be crossbows or footbows (where the arrow was drawn with both hands), but they could be longbows or modern compound bows.

Hamud agreed to be the judge, since he taught the sport every third semester at Idaho. Rex, Neil and Phil were each assigned to one of us as a scorer.

Hamud explained the scoring, "The scoring system is based on a 10-ring target. Each section of the target is worth from one to 10 points, with 10 being the best. Arrows on the dividing lines are given the higher score and deflections score where they land. Arrows that bounce off the target or pass through are also counted. The target face is set 70 meters (229 feet, 8 inches) from the shooting line and the center gold of the target is set 130 centimeters (4 feet, 3 inches) above the ground. The target is usually made of paper and has a diameter of 122 centimeters (4 feet). The target is divided into five colored rings and each ring is divided in half. The width of each color zone is 12.2 (4.8 inches) centimeters and the width of each scoring zone-half of a color zone-is 6.1 (2.4 inches) centimeters.

"The rings and the corresponding point values are as follows (from innermost to outermost): Gold inner (10 points), Gold outer (9 points), Red inner (8 points), Red outer (7 points), Blue inner (6 points), Blue outer (5 points), Black inner (4 points), Black outer (3 points), White inner (2 points), and White outer (1 point).

"Ties are to broken with a "sudden death" overtime, where each archer shoots one arrow and the highest score wins. If tied, a second arrow is shot for highest score. If still tied, a single closest-to-the-center arrow determines the winner. Nancy, you won the draw and will go fist. Are you ready?"

She nodded and stepped to the mark. It was a sunny day with a small breeze from the west. The field, below the book store at Washington State University (Wazoo to all of us), was laid out east-west. We would rotate after every round of ten; that was figured to equalize and weather changes also.

Nancy shot first, using a modern blue bow. Her first shot was low, a blue outer ring. She made a small adjustment to her bow sight and her next shot went inner gold for ten points. Her next eight shots clustered the red circles for a total of 77.

Greg went next. His first shot barely touched the straw butt. He improved steadily. His bow was the most complex, being a compound bow. He worked back to a 58.

I was adjusting my old yew bow, which I had made five years earlier in Idaho. I knew I should be using a modern bow, but I had used this one for practicing in the woods and was comfortable with it. The modern bows had more accuracy and power. My first shot was an inner blue and then I marched steadily into the gold, but then just as steadily out to blue again for a 75.

We sat around and talked for a while on break. None of us was sure about how long a time bows had been used for hunting (30,000 years?), but we agreed that bows were used for warfare in Mesopotamia 5,000 years ago. Although archery was made obsolete by guns, the French made it into a sport, and now technology had refined it in many ways.

We repeated series for another ten arrows. Greg went first; his worst shot was an inner white ring but his best was a bull's eye. We had a judgmental decision on his third shot. The arrow head split the line between inner and outer blue; the judge ruled that it was outer blue, even though the shaft seemed to have rotated toward the inner circle. We had a short discussion about how the lines were divided. He improved his score to 74. I went second and scored my best at 80. Nancy finished with 79. She was still the leader overall.

For the third end, I went first. My first shot I held for a long time (38 seconds) before releasing, waiting for the wind and the moment. It hit the gold outer, high rather than low. I made the next shots evenly getting a gold inner and several gold outers, ending up with 76. I felt just right.

Nancy went next. She held too long on her first and technically, it should not have counted, but the judge asked us if we would allow it; Greg and I nodded, not wanting to have technicalities dominate the first event. The shot was a gold outer ring. Her next two were blue inner rings. Her next two shots were gold inner and gold outer. Her final shots were off a little and she ended with 73 points.

Greg improved again, landing mostly in the red rings; his score was 75.

For the next round Nancy shot first. She got her best score at 80. Greg continued to improve again, adding two points to his score. And, the first three arrows I shot were in the gold center. I could not keep it up, but got my best score of the day at 87.

Greg went first for the last end, but he started badly; he recovered enough for a decent score of 76. I went next and shot well, but could not get a good grouping in the center. Nancy closed the end with another 79. We totaled the scores.

 

Name                      End 1                End 2              End 3              End 4              End 5                Total

Greg                        58                           74                         75                         77                         76                           360 x 2 = 720

Nancy                 77                           79                         74                         80                         79                           389 x 2 = 778

Des                            75                           80                         81                         87                         83                           406 x 2 = 812

 

I had won. Nancy was gracious, saying that she might have to start using her old bow. Greg gave me the finger, with a smile though. We talked to the judge and scorers, thanking them, but also arranging to meet the next day for the cycling event. Nancy suggested that the next time we try field archery, rather than a range competition. It sounded intriguing, since the targets would be a different distances, and half of them would be unknown to the shooters.

That night I had a small Cuba libre with dinner, which was left-over lasagna. Tina was too tired to cook and we had leftovers from the weekend. I asked her if she wanted to come and observe. She said she preferred to spend her vacation traveling, but she might observe over the weekend, if I could remember what sport that was. I suggested that we devote the evening to art.

 

 

Round Two. Bicycling Tuesday

For cycling, Nancy's choice sport, we decided to forgo the complicated Olympic event and stick with a triathlon approach. We set out a course going from Pullman to Moscow on the old upper highway, around Moscow, and back on Highway 8 (approximately 25 miles or 40 kilometers). This was a classic race on a pre-determined course between two cities, although it combined mild elements of cross-country mountain biking, especially the gravel road, but no obstacles or mud holes. No outside assistance would be allowed. A car would follow, but there would be no lead car, team car, or director car. There would be no time trial or individual pursuit.

There were no rules on the bicycles, either. Greg had a hybrid mountain bike with 27 speeds (three sprockets, good grief). I had my old 1975 white, ten-speed Raleigh, with new tires, brakes and everything freshly adjusted. Nancy had some new contraption with five-spoke carbon-fiber "mag" wheels. It looked like it had 18 gears. There were no rules on clothes either. Nancy had long, tight-fitting lycra shorts and yellow lycra jersey. I thought her shoes matched the top. I nodded in appreciation, but she ignored me. So, Greg wouldn't be jealous, I nodded in appreciation of his outfit, which was jeans and t-shirt, with hard leather shoes. He ignored me. I must seem ancient. I had track shorts under a sweat suit; I had clipped the legs above my running shoes. We all had helmets. Nancy's was black and yellow, Greg's red, and mine black (my roller-blading helmet in fact), so we were color coded. Nancy and Greg had gloves; I didn't worry about that since I had new foam and rubber near the bars and levers.

Greg's wife Lacy agreed to follow the racers in their car, an older Audi. She had a first-aid kit in case of injuries. If any of us got in trouble, her role was only to pick up the pieces.

Hamud started the race. He, Jaromil and Phil had stop watches and would time us with those. I suspected they would play poker or something while we were out of sight. Nancy started out with a lead. Greg was doing well. My legs felt unused and took a mile or two to get the knots out. Then I started catching up to Greg and Nancy. The first half of the race went along the old Moscow-Pullman highway, which wound around fields and boundaries and moved up and down in the hills. It was not paved, so there was an uncomfortable disadvantage to being behind.

I began to feel more comfortable as we rode. I noticed that I caught up a little going uphill. That was going to be a problem going back to Pullman-it was all downhill, flowing along with Paradise Creek, which wasn't flowing at the moment because there was not enough sewage from Moscow. Since the first half was on gravel roads, Greg did better, as expected and pulled into a lead. About three quarters of the way, I passed Nancy. I knew that she would have the advantage on the pavement.

Greg pulled away as we came down by the athletic field and turned east towards the east side of town; we would be circling the town on another highway, Mountainview road, then the new bypass. This was the part of the race that I was uncertain about. Traffic could be a problem, although at 9:40 in the morning, the rush hour traffic of sixty cars should be settled at their destinations, north towards the highway.

I tried to keep within sight of Greg. Nancy was much further back. Fortunately there was not much car traffic. When I caught up to Greg again, near the new Safeway, he pulled away strongly. That was discouraging. I noticed Nancy seemed to be off her bike, doing something to the chain. That was encouraging.

I decided to try Greg again. As he pulled away, I kept up with him. A green ford station wagon passed us. After a mile, he slowed a little. I pulled ahead as we turned from Mountainview road to the north edge of town. Going down the steep hill towards 95, he pulled ahead again. I was content to coast.

We turned north on Main street, then by the Rosauer's supermarket, we turned southwest onto the bypass. I stayed a few meters behind, as we turned west on Highway 8, breezing by another grocery store, fast food row, the bowling alley, by the south side of the blimp hanger, for foosball and backitball, named after an alumnus who donated almost a tenth as much money as the students did from the student funds, and by the new university mall-the one to which the university essentially donated its valuable land so that merchants might be disposed to hire three or four students for minimum wage at Christmas time. Although I rarely agreed with anything the university did, I enjoyed living next to it, just for convenience to the library and gym. Now the highway followed the creek between rolling hills. We were back in Washington state again, by the old drive-in theater, now a building supply store.

Going up the next hill I passed Greg again. He sped up and we peddled side by side for a little while. He pulled ahead again and I kept off his left shoulder. I peeked behind and saw Nancy, who looked like she was closing on us. Traffic was light, but the breakdown lane was wide enough. The trucks hit us their forced air, but, on the other hand, it might have pushed us a little faster.

Nancy was only a few hundred meters behind. Greg was picking up speed as was I. Near the Water Power company, I decided to sprint, before Nancy overtook us. We were only three miles or so from the finish line, on campus by the administration building. I passed Greg and kept sprinting so he could not pass me. I kept thinking I could be going faster if I had another gear or two. Just at the entrance to Pullman, Nancy passed me. We started up the hill towards campus. I shifted and kept sprinting. As we went up the hill I gradually overhauled and passed her. My legs felt like hot rubber. She was sprinting. But, it was uphill-my specialty. As I got near the admin building, the stoplight turned red. I saw Phil, Jaromil and Hamud on the other side, waiting at the line

I turned right on red, and after the first car, which was turning left, I raced between cars and sprinted the final 50 meters. As I looked back, Nancy remounted her bike and started on the green light. Greg was in sight behind her, but could not overtake her. That was how we finished. I expected Nancy to protest the stoplight move, but she only shook her head.

We headed to the admin lawn and flopped down with the bikes. I felt energized and surprised. I had won the first two events. I had a vision of winning every single one. That was interrupted by Greg, who started talking about tomorrow's contest (or 'agony,' in Greek).

I didn't feel like eating at home, since Tina was working late, so I suggested eating out. Nancy said yea, but I ought to pay. Greg said he couldn't because of Lacy, but I pointed out that she was just parking the car. We all went to back to Moscow for a pizza at Karl Marx. Jaromil gave us the scores, which he had converted from the times: Des-891, Nancy-885, Greg-857.

Nancy suggested that we needed the quantitative calculations for each round, but Jaromil was able to explain his formula for bicycle racing, that related time and distance.

"What about age?" I asked.

"Sex?" "Weight?" Nancy and Greg suggested simultaneously.

"I don't think we should factor those in with ball or equipment events," Jaromil answered. "With boxing, judo, wrestling, or weight-lifting, absolutely, maybe tennis, but not running or swimming, where weight can be a disadvantage."

"Sex?" Nancy repeated.

"No thanks, not now. I had a good morning with-" Jaromil paused reflectively.

"Wrestling?" I asked, trying to remember if we were going to do that.

"No, thanks, did that, too-look, pizza!" Jaromil pointed. He seemed to be as food-oriented as ever.

 

Round Three: Billiards Wednesday

"Ah, billiards, the tragedy of my freshman year at school," Greg announced, "when I dropped out to be a professional, a one-eyed one at that." Greg went on to describe the game, "The game of billiards can be played by two or more people. Three balls are used: a 'plain' white, a 'spot' white and a red ball. Billiards is a game of pots, in-offs, cannons, and positional play. Points are awarded for scoring strokes and forfeits from opponents fouls. The winner is the player who has scored the most points at the end of an agreed period of time-"

"I thought we were playing Eight-ball?" Nancy interrupted.

"I was getting to that," Greg protested.

I tuned them both out and looked at the hall. I remembered that this used to be a furniture store next to an old hotel, now torn down and replaced by the new bypass. I walked over and inspected a few of the tables for wear on the felt.

Greg was just getting into the rules, holding a small white book at shoulder level, "These general rules apply to all pocket billiard games, unless specifically noted to the contrary in individual game rules. To facilitate the use and understanding of these general rules, terms that may require definition-"

"Did you ever see The Hustler?" I asked.

Nancy giggled. Greg sighed, and finished, "All games described in these rules are designed for tables, balls and equipment meeting the standards prescribed in the BCA Equipment Specifications. That's okay?"

"We agreed already," Nancy nodded.

"Who invented billiards?" I asked, always curious about the origins of games, as well as who played them for fun, money, or as death sports (I was thinking of the Aztecs).

"The French, of course," Nancy answered.

"You have French ancestors, I'll bet," I suggested, just as Greg was trying to educate us.

"Possibly the Chinese, with carved ivory balls. But, maybe the Arabs, who had a game called pall-mall, which was brought back by the Crusaders, as a booby-prize. The first modern table was built for Louis the Eleventh ..." Greg tried to educate us.

I was looking at the customers. There was one old man, smoke-yellowed fingers, playing a very careful game in the corner. I finally selected a table near the center. I asked Jaromil, who was here as the judge, if that table would do. He agreed and went over to reserve it. I noticed he also ordered a slice of pizza, French fries and a coke for himself.

Nancy was responding to something Greg had said, "You mean Eight-ball is a form of American billiards, which we will be playing and not the Classical Billiards or Snooker?"

"Exactly," Greg smiled, "Classical, or carom, Billiards is played on a table with no pockets. American Billiards is pocket billiards."

I noticed that the old man was playing on the only table in the room without pockets. Hmmm. I decided to watch him for a while. He only kept two balls on the table.

Jaromil came over with a tray of balls and three cubes of chalk. Greg immediately looked at the balls and nodded. I went to the wall to pick out a cue. When I came back, Greg was screwing his cue together. Nancy was watching, having put hers together already. I wondered if I was going to be in trouble. I went back and tried out a straighter cue from the racks.

Nancy and Greg were shooting balls to the edge of the table, trying to approach the cushion without touching it. I suggested that they play first.

Jaromil said yes, and pronounced that the tournament had officially begun. Nancy was elected to be starting player, since she had seemingly won the preliminary tests. Greg set the balls in the triangle, then removed it. Nancy put the cue ball behind the starting line. Her strike was rapid and hard-it was a good break. The balls scattered obligingly. The 14 went into the north corner pocket. She would be shooting for striped balls (numbered from 9 to 15). Of course, regardless, the black ball would have to be sunk to win.

Jaromil reminded us that after the break, we had to call the ball and the pocket for each shot. He needlessly reminded us that the cue ball had to hit one of our balls first, and that we did not have to call ricochet shots or number of cushions hit.

Nancy put in the 9, but then missed a long straight shot on the 12.

Greg took over, quickly pocketing the 1 in the south side. But, after a power shot on the 3, he hit the 8 and it bounced off the table.

As he picked it up, Jaromil reminded us that that meant he lost the game. Greg protested weakly, saying that he had not sunk the 8 ball. This inspired Jaromil to go over the rules again, noting that the game would be lost if the black ball went into an uncalled pocket, or if the cue ball jumped the table while trying to pocket the black ball. Greg nodded glumly and the first game went to Nancy 8 to 1.

In the next round, I played Nancy. After her break, and a pocketed 4, she sank the 6, but missed the 7. I quickly sank the 9 and 15 with straight shots. But, then Jaromil called a foul on the 15, so I put it back on the table on the Spot. He claimed that the cue ball struck the 3 ball first and that was not a legal object ball. I nodded, thinking to myself that that was why we had a judge, to observe and correct any irregularities. Nancy took over, but missed a difficult ricochet off the 2 ball.

I touched the 14 into the north side pocket. Called the 10 into the corner, and also got the 12 after bouncing off two cushions. I felt good, but then missed an easy shot on the 15. Nancy banked the 7, then missed the 2 again, which just hung on the lip of the corner pocket, defying gravity.

Then we entered the frustrating period of play, where there seemed to be no good shots. She played her last one by putting the cue ball against the north rail, where it would be impossible for me to use wisely. Suddenly, she pocked the 5 and 1. Only the 8 remained. She missed and I pocketed the 11, but I left the cue ball in a position to her advantage. She took the advantage and won the game, 8 to 5.

"Uhuh," I thought, things were not going according to plan.

But, then the second round went to Greg, as he beat both of us, 8-6 and 8-7. And Nancy beat me, 8-6.

At the beginning of the third round I beat Greg 8-5. I started far ahead, but could not sink the 8 ball safely for many shots. He almost caught me, before I finally got it. Greg beat Nancy 8-5 and Nancy beat me 8-4-talk about your busted hierarchy.

Now it was time to switch to straight pool for the final series of three games. In this game the objective was to sink the balls in numerical order, again calling the ball and pocket.

In the first one I broke, but nothing went in. Nancy started with the 1 ball, which was conveniently sitting by a corner pocket. She could not get to the 2 and moved the cue ball to the other side of the table. I sent the ball to the center, separated from the 2 by the 9 ball. She tried to get to the 2 and moved it to an unprotected spot. I sank it, then the 3 and 4, before missing.

Surprisingly I won 8-5. Then she beat Greg 8-7. That was a good close game.

In the second round of straight, they both beat me again, but Greg beat Nancy.

I was not going to win, but I was wondering if I should try to be the spoiler for Greg or Nancy. I decided not.

I beat Nancy 9-6, then Greg beat me 9-6. For the last game, even Jaromil stopped practicing on the next table. Greg broke, but was unable to get the 1 ball. Nancy got the 1 by ricocheting it off the 6 and 8. Then she missed the 2 ball. Greg was able to drop it in the southeast corner pocket, using the ladies helper (I mean the "rest" cue). Then he ran 3, 4, and 5 with straight shots by clever placement of the cue ball each time. They exchanged singles for three turns. Then Greg ran the 12, 13, and 14. Despite Nancy's late run, Greg won the game 8-7.

Greg won the series. Nancy was second. I alas was third, quite a fall from my previous two first places.

 

                                        8-ball                   8-2        8-3        s-1                 s-2                 s-3 Total                              

Nancy               8                                   6                5               8                       6                        7                       = 143x4.5=644

Greg                     2                                   8                8               7                       9                        8                                                                         

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                           

Nancy               8                                   8                8               5                       8                        6                                                                         

Des                          5                                   6                7               8                       7                        9                       =124x4.5 =605

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                            

Greg                     8                                   8                5               7                       9                        9                       =168x 4.5=756

Des                          7                                   7                8               8                       6                        6                                                                         

 

We went down the street to the New Hong Kong restaurant and made Greg pay for dinner. I had sweet and sour shrimp, my favorite since I first ate there in 1973. The decor had not changed sine 1973 either. It was quiet, only one couple at the bar having, of all things in a Chinese restaurant, chocolate milk shakes. We talked about our names, after Nancy asked what 'Des' was short for and I replied, "'Dekaeayough,' a Cayuga name."

"What's it mean?" she asked.

"Got me," I answered. "Dad never said. I don't even know if he still speaks the language."

"Not your mother?"

"No, she's part English and Greek."

"Greek! That's my name, I mean my ancestry," Greg exclaimed. "Gregorios. I think it means 'from the earth' or something. And your name," he said, pointing at Nancy, "means the garden I think. What does Nancy mean"

"No one ever asked," Nancy said, "I think it's a place name. Hey, here comes the food."

 

Round Four: Bowling Thursday

Rather than use the public lanes in Moscow or Pullman, we decided to use the University of Idaho lanes, especially since two of us were students there, and knew those lanes offered the least crowding.

We met Jaromil and Phil in the main lounge by the giant vandal statue (and what a perfect metaphor for American industrial civilization, a metallic image who accumulated wealth through theft rather than through invention or creation) and all went downstairs together.

I was putting this sport into historical perspective, "-in ancient Egypt, and from there to Rome, Germany and the Netherlands, where it was played at religious festivals. Recently, less than 200 years ago, the number of pins was raised from 9 to 10. The player-"

"Yes, Greg interrupted, "gets to knock down the ten pins by rolling a ball at them. If he cannot get all ten the first time, he gets a second chance. Each ball is worth one point, but there are bonus points for knocking them over in one or two tries, that is, strikes or spares. Then-"

"The ball is a standards size and weight, made of plastic and fiberglass," continued Nancy. "Don't forget that the bonus points exceed the normal points. So, who's keeping track of scoring?"

"I am," Jaromil answered. "Or rather, Rex, Hamud, and Phil will keep track of scoring for each of you. I will be the judge. Now, who is paying?"

Nancy nodded. We had divided the payments so that we each ended up paying one third of everything that required payments. Our efforts to get merchants to donate free time for us did not seem to be going well, even with the new neat logo for the Dodecathlon Universal League (DUL) on our stationery.

We picked out shoes and put them on. I was shocked that neither Nancy nor Greg had their own personal professional bowling shoes or balls.

We bowled a few practice rounds. I remembered how to bowl, but had not played for over ten years. I hoped the memories were adequate. I noticed a grim set to Nancy's jaw. The first four sports had been chosen by her and she had not won one of them yet.

For this sport, we decided to roll for position. Nancy won the roll with a strike and elected to go first. She rolled a strike in Frame 1. Greg and I exchanged that look of the knowing doomed. Greg went next and got a spare. I went third and knocked over 9 on the first roll, then picked up the last for a spare. Nancy got two more strikes in a row, before missing three and settling for a spare. Greg picked up two more spares and an open frame (missing one of two on the last throw). My first I fouled by sliding across the foul line. Although I got nine balls on my next throw, the foul was bad news.

I watched Nancy's footwork. Her first three steps seemed small, and even her fourth step did not have a deep slide. Greg used similar steps. My own steps were too long. I thought they were graceful and flowing, especially the slide, but I was not curving the ball like they were. So, I decided to modify my approach. I worried less about style and more about wrist action and aim. When I changed I got three strikes in a row, a kind of beginner's luck perhaps..

Nancy seemed to alternate between strikes and spares. Greg had mostly spares, with a few strikes. I had two open frames, plus the foul. Nancy won the first game 263 to 230 to 180.

Nancy won the second game also, 240 to 224 to 190.

Nancy won the third game 250 to 228 to 224, with Greg third.

To round off the points, we played a fourth game to only four frames (for the 1000-point limit). I won that 85 to 80 to 78, too little too late. I probably would have lost had it gone a whole ten frames.

We sat around and talked while the scorecards were completed and signed. The other two congratulated me on picking up quickly. Greg and I complimented Nancy on her dominance. Phil brought us a few sodas. As we were drinking them, Greg went over and played a few games of electronic speed driving.

 

                                                      Game 1                2                               3                                   4                               Total

Nancy                             263                                240                      250                          78                          831

Greg                                   230                                224                      224                          80                          758

Des                                        180                                198                      228                          85                          691

 

Round Five: Boxing Friday

"I respect tradition as much as anyone," Hamud was saying, "but some sports are barbaric, and some scoring systems are just silly."

"You mean tennis?" Nancy asked innocently.

"No, I mean the sport that you, girl, are so keen to donate your teeth and ears to," Hamud paused, "boxing. I want to ask you to reconsider. Will you?"

Nancy looked at the ring, then her feet, then Hamud's eyes: "I would, if it were bare-knuckle and if Greg weighed over 300, but," and she pointed to a mound of equipment, "with all of this safety equipment, what could go wrong?"

"You can still end up with a broken nose or bloody kidney," Hamud sighed, with his last argument.

"Besides," Greg offered, "she is expecting us not to hit her. And I do weigh over 200, so anything I do from pushing to glaring, is going to be a problem for you, punky."

"Ms. Punky to you. Don't count your goose-eggs until they're laid."

"Hamud," I asked, "if you think the sport barbaric, why do you coach it?"

"It's a long story. Not here," he paused. "I also coach judo and wrestling . . . maybe it's just-"

"Yes?"

"Never mind. Anyway, for this historic event, I have come up with some new rules and a new scoring system. Let's go over them, eh?

"The rules for scoring, in order of priority, are: First, for a knockdown. If one fighter knocks another down legitimately, that is, with a punch, that fighter gets a 10-point bonus. In the old system the round was scored 10-8 in favor of the boxer delivering the knockdown. But, there were problems with, on some occasions, a fighter being 'out on his, or her, if you insist, feet.' But, then the fighter remains standing and rebounds. So, for example, Ward should not have been given a 10-8 round against Gatti."

"Who?" three of us asked at the same time.

"Never mind, no, do mind. You ought to read up on the sport. I thought you had boxed, Greg?"

"I did, in college. I know Des did some, also."

"Uh, okay. Second priority, staggering. If one fighter clearly staggers his, uh, or her, opponent he gets a 3-point bonus, instead of winning a 10-9 round. A 'staggering' is a momentary loss of physical equilibrium caused by a power punch or series of punches. This is the equivalent to noticing a fighter has been visibly hurt by an opponent's punch. If the number of staggers is even or none occurred, move on to rule #3.

Thirdly, I mean third, clean effective punching. Each unblocked punch to the body is rated at 1-point; punches to the arms or gloves, or head, are considered countered and not counted. This replaces the 10-9 round scoring. And finally, fourthly, fourth, aggressiveness. The more aggressive fighter gets a 5-point bonus per round. By-"

"What about grace and speed, style?" Nancy said.

"What about unpimpled face, hair-style, and cleanliness?" Hamud responded, "save it for skating."

Nancy wrinkled her face.

"All those things are counted under aggression. It would be too complex to give points for graceful back-peddling, since that results in fewer points for the opponent. Same with 'heart' or courage. Too difficult to count. The fighter who takes the initiative, who dictates the pace of the fight, gets points. No points are added for adherence to the rules, but points are rapidly deducted if you don't adhere. For instance, 5 points are deducted for a head butt or hit below the waist. Same for biting and kicking."

"Awww," Nancy moaned dramatically, "my advantages, all stripped away."

Hamud smiled and continued: "-Now, I had suggested and you have agreed to Olympic round, that is, four 2-minute rounds. Did any of you want twelve 3-minute rounds?"

"Not to start, I think" I answered.

"Des, you might as well say it. I can see it building up. When and where did boxing start?"

"Maybe 686 BC, or 668, maybe, in Greece. The boxers, or pugilists from the Greek word for-" I could see eyes rolling into the backs of heads so I cut it short, "wrapped their hands with leather thongs to protect them, and they boxed nude."

"I think 668 is right. Did you know that later, in Rome, the leather was reinforced with lead balls? I imagine there were more, faster knockouts."

"Are we following the Marquis of Queensberry rules?" I asked.

"Yes, in terms of the ring size, gloves, and mandatory counts, but weights are a problem. Normally, you would never fight each other. Nancy looks like a Junior Flyweight-"

"Hey, I weigh 120-oppss!"

When we were finished laughing, Hamud corrected himself: "Okay, featherweight. Des, you're a middle weight, Greg a heavyweight or super heavyweight-"

"What's the difference?" Greg asked.

"Super is over 201 pounds."

"And I weigh 203," Greg nodded.

"Yes, but you carry it well," Nancy flirted. "How tall are you?"

"Six-two. That means I don't need to worry about illegal head shots from you, ha, ha."

"Oh, that reminds me. A few more considerations and rules," Hamud started, "unlike professional boxing you will not be fighting bare-chested," he paused smiling at Nancy, who inhaled deeply (and since I saw her wrapped in nylon at the pool every day I knew she had attractive breasts), "and you will have full protective equipment, especially helmets. Now, what else?"

"Betting?" Greg asked.

"Not allowed. Oh, speaking of head shots, no punching of the back of the head, neck, or back."

"Why?

"I think it had to do with appearing cowardly, hitting a retreating opponent. Besides it's dangerous, more dangerous I mean. Now, we will have four judges, one for each side of the ring: Jaromil, Phil, Neil, and Chuck. I will be the referee, in the ring with you. Dr. Mixon has agreed to attend; he will be bringing duct tape and carved wooden replacement teeth. He is from the WSU student health. You may each have one trainer. I will see you tomorrow at 2:00."

"Will this be sanctioned by the IBF or WBO or WBA or-"

"No, Greg," Nancy answered, "but we could start our own, the MAWUBA."

"MAWUBA?"

"Men and Women's Universal Boxing Association," Nancy announced.

"Why not BAA?" Hamud suggested, "Boxing Association of America."

"How about PAD?" I offered, "Punishment after Dollars."

"BYE," Hamud left the track.

We stood around talking for a few minutes, while the lunch-hour people ran around the indoor track. Nancy decided to go running now. Greg and I went next door to play some racquetball, if we could find an open court. We had already decided to play the racquetball round here at Wazoo, with their newer glass courts.

 

The next day, we met at 11:00 to get dressed and warm up. I was still concerned about fighting Nancy. We had sparred a little and I didn't see how she would survive. Maybe if she had been 6'1" and 200 pounds. The ring had been set up in the martial arts room. It was not elevated, but it had the posts and three ropes. The padding seemed a little to thick to me, but didn't have any seams like the judo pads.

Nancy and Greg would go first, then after an hour break, Nancy and me, and after another hour, Greg and I. Hamud's schedule was that Greg and I would warm up for each other. He was still concerned about weight differences.

 

Fight Number 1. At the bell, Greg walked to the center, stretched out his right arm, and held Nancy away. All she could reach was his arms. Demonstration over, Nancy backed away quickly, then circled and closed more quickly. She got in several shots to Greg's right side, before he recovered and danced back. They danced for a while, she avoiding his reach and he trying to land a punch.

Then he did, on the crown of her head-a fair punch-and she fell backwards. We all raced forwards. The referee pushed Greg away and started to count. Nancy got up before four and bounced up and down to show she was ready and willing. Greg had a problem since the best opportunities were to her head. He tried to hit her upper chest and stomach, but had to crouch. The round was over.

The next round was more of a complicated dance. Nancy trying to pursue a large target and Greg trying to attack a small, rapidly-moving target. They each scored a few hits. I suspected Greg was pulling punches and trying to just score coups on the body.

In the third round Nancy moved back after the first close, and pulled her jersey, saying "Look, I'm triple wrapped and padded; you can't really hurt me that much!"

Greg nodded and approached her. She had both arms up, but he got in a good hard jab to her right shoulder. She spun but kept her balance. I could see one of the judges clicking the point with a counter in his right hand. Nancy came back with a flurry of shots, mostly spent on his arms and gloves but she got two or three to his side, and one to his hip. Greg shrugged it off and she made motions of apology. I think one judge subtracted a few points from his left-hand counter for the foul. Greg counted coup several more times to her forehead, and the round ended without death or dismemberment.

I watched the judges meet and add up their scores, discussing differences and counts. After 5 minutes, Hamud made the announcement.

"The Winner, by a score of 59 to 37, Greg Soros over Nancy Deschardin. Congratulations to you both for a clean and, uhmmm, interesting fight."

Boxing always had way too few points anyway, making it hard to determine a winner in many cases. Not any longer. Nancy went back to the locker room. I went to Hamud and mentioned that I thought we were going to fight four rounds.

He shook his head, "For you guys maybe, but not with the girl, ahh, lady."

 

Fight Number 2. Round 1. At the bell I started moving counterclockwise, then stopped. I remembered that I wanted to save any surprises for Greg. I stopped and waited for Nancy to close. She started with a manic flurry of punches that mostly caught my arms and gloves. I backed up. I knew she was tired; it was after 3:30. And, I knew she was trying to cow me. We were more evenly matched in size; I did not have as much of a height or weight advantage-only 40 pounds, rather than 80 pounds. We were also evenly matched at swimming and probably other sports where grace and technique counted more.

She stunned me with a good hit to the stomach. I bent over and backed away. Too much thinking. She followed landing two shots on my shoulder. I hit back with two taps on her forehead. Then, I hunched over and connected to her sides with a few roundhouses. Unfortunately, that left my head open and she hit me twice on the forehead. We both backed up and moved warily. Her face looked beet-red from effort. When she closed again. I snaked in a fist over her guard on the open chest and she went down. She rolled over right away and arched her back, gasping. I waited as Hamud started to count. I figured I was ahead on points now. She was up by 5 and circling. We exchanged a few more taps on gloves before the round ended.

Round 2. I came out with a flurry of light hits, mostly to her gloves and arms. And a few to the air, when she ducked. She started ducking more now, making a hard target.

Round 3. I could see she was tired. She still moved well, and fast, but she threw fewer punches. Even when she charged she aimed several times before attempting a punch. She caught me with a good one to the left side of my chest.

At the bell she collapsed into the corner. I went over and Helen, her "trainer" gave her a cold towel. I asked her if she was okay and she gave me the thumb's up sign, but using the middle finger. I blew her a kiss.

After the usual counting and conferring, Hamud made the announcement: "The Winner, by decision, and a score of 65 to 52, Des Turner over Nancy Deschardin. Congratulations to you both for a clean and entertaining fight."

I hugged her but she punched me below the belt, As I bent over she tagged the back of my head.

"Okay, okay, sorry," I said.

"No. It was a good fight, there just has to be a way to make up the weight difference. Maybe you guys should have a hand tied behind you back or have to wear a 90-pound pack or fight on your knees or something."

I nodded and waved as she left. Then I sat down heavily and started to breathe to relax.

 

Fight Number 3. Now I was in Nancy's position, as Greg was four inches taller and forty pounds heavier, numbers that mattered little on a racquetball court or track. We went through the introductory ceremonies and the bell. Unlike Nancy I did not come out fast. Neither did Greg. We circled each other like super heavyweights, slowed by our weight but knowing the power it added when we would punch. We tested each other with glove touches. Greg swung hard once but I backed out of range. Of all the things we had played through the years, hitting each other was not one of them. I knew he had boxed in school and I had worked out on punching bags for years. But, the bag had never hit back.

I decided to take the plunge and moved in, circling counterclockwise.

Round 2. I felt confident. I knew I could hit Greg regularly and he had trouble pinning me down in the corners. As I switched to a series of right jabs, I was staggered by a fist from nowhere. I put my head down and covered up near the ropes. He was landing hammers on my ribs. I moved along the ropes, almost tripping. When he paused I lifted a good punch out of the air. He didn't blink. I could not match him for strength. I attacked him, landing a few good strikes to the body. Then the round was over.

Round 3. My head hurt. My body felt numb. My arms and legs, however, felt good and powerful. So I danced into the round. I danced in to score and danced out to avoid his punches. I thought, maybe imagined, that he looked confused. Then he caught me in a corner. I covered up and caught most of his punches, but I could not strike back. I pushed him out on the arms, so I could get room. As I started to attack the round ended. I was sure I had outscored him this round.

Round 4. Everything was numb, now, even the headache. I danced in and tried to knock him down. That didn't work. I had to spend equal effort avoiding his swings. Every once and a while he swung a roundhouse, that exposed his ribs, but all I did was tag him. When I covered my head and chest he made some good hits to my stomach. Fortunately it was the strongest muscle in my body. I decided to try the ropa-dopa strategy and let him hit my stomach for a while, but then I realized he was scoring each time, so I went back to circling him and scoring strikes to his right side. He was vulnerable to my lefts, so I slowed down with the right hand, except for an occasional jab to keep him honest. He was very slow, now and could not fend off my attacks.. I was still attacking at the final bell.

As I collapsed in my corner, I saw him collapse in his. We nodded to each other between gulps of water. I probed a tooth that seemed loose.

We watched the judges quietly and then Hamud as he got in the ring and made the announcement: "The Winner, by decision, and a score of 78 to 76, Des Turner over Greg Soros. Congratulations to you both for a clean and exhausting fight."

We met and the ring and he collapsed against me. "I didn't know you were tired too," I said.

Greg replied, "Under the old system, I think I would have won, for the stagger and the domination-"

"Hey, I didn't go backwards," I responded a little archly. Then we walked out into the hall. "The ceiling is too low in that room. I should think you could hit it jumping in martial arts."

 

                                                                   Score                                                        Calculation                                        Total

Greg                                                 59                                                                  59+10 x 10=690                     725

Nancy                                          37                                                                  37x10=370                                      

                                                                                                                                                                                                                             

Nancy                                          52                                                                  52x10=520                                       445

Des                                                     65                                                                  65+10x10=750                        

                                                                                                                                                                                                                             

Des                                                     78                                                                  78+10x10=880                         815

Greg                                                 76                                                                  76x10=760                                      

 

Greg muttered, "So, you're the MAWUBA champion, ma-ma-wuba! Your treat, and I need a steak for my eye."

We went to the Nobby Inn with Nancy and Hamud. I did pay. Greg and Nancy got steaks. I had a Caesar salad.

 

Round Six: Diving Saturday

"You know," I was lecturing Tina, "Fancy diving goes as far back as the 17th century in connection with the great gymnastic movement in Germany and Sweden. In the summertime, the gymnasts moved their equipment to the beach to practice, and acrobatics that ended up in the water became a part of their activities. So, springboard diving is more related to gymnastics than to swimming, although since they both conclude in water, they have naturally become linked."

"Yes, you are very graceful in the air. Are you ahead in this new Greek-numbered megasport?" She asked sweetly.

"I am ahead, but I expect to be trounced in tennis and some of the other ball sports. If-" I paused. She was making a Chicken Voulevent for dinner and was shaping a pastry chicken out of filo dough. Pelleprat's recipe, I knew. At least we ate well. She had just gotten a raise at the University was now making more money than I was, a fact that had improved her mood significantly.

"Yes?" she wondered. I grabbed her from behind and let my hands go a roving. She dusted me with flour. Then .... ah, well, then. Then.

 

"Then again, there is no platform available at either university. I suggest that we keep to the one-meter board, although I would prefer the three-meter board." I finished making the arrangements with Michelle, the coach of the women's swim team (and Nancy's coach).

"For insurance reasons, and insurance has gotten bitchy about diving boards, I agree we keep to the one-meter. However, you can go through a whole series on the three-meter, as long as we have the judges. You know Nancy used to dive a long time ago, but I haven't seen her practice here. Of course, I haven't seen you practice either."

I raised my eyebrows, "I go through a set of dives a few nights a week, but only when Mike is lifeguard-no one else allows me to practice," I shrugged.

"See," she said. "Insurance. It sucks. And these same stupid companies insure people who build houses on primary sand dunes and active volcanoes; they insure automobile racers, sky-divers, ohhh," she fumed.

I was thinking about what dives I would do. After 1904, Olympic diving started to change in leaps and bounds-literally-and is still developing. In the early days there were only 14 platform and 20 springboard dives. Now, there were officially 63 dives on the 1-meter springboard, 67 dives on 3-meter springboard and 85 dives on platform. Of course, I had over 80 dives on the 1-meter and almost as many on 3-meter, and over 100 on platform. Many of them had no official degrees of difficulty, and I had to guess that they were similar to the recognized dives. Difficulty had changed dramatically from a dangerous double somersault from the platform, in 1904, to an easy performance of a reverse three and a half somersaults in 1984. I would be doing that dive off the 3-meter. I wondered whether anyone would ever do more difficult dives that I did. Was there a peak? Someone made the statement 25 years ago that difficulty had peaked then.

Michelle was talking about the judges: "-don't have a panel of seven experts who can score each dive considering four phases of the performance: the approach, takeoff, technique and grace during flight, and the water entry. We can get three educated judges, so we won't throw out the highest and lowest scores. Do you know any names?"

"No, just you. Who scores in the meets?"

"We never have diving." she answered.

"Have you given Nancy and Greg the information about the six compulsory dives and the five optional dives?" I asked.

"Yes," she said sweetly (I was surrounded by people behaving sweetly to me, as if I was retarded). "And I told them each dive is scored on a 10-point basis. We need to have three judges. There are thirty points maximum per dive, which is multiplied by the degree of difficulty, which has a maximum of 3.3. As, you know, degree of difficulty ranges from 1.2 for a simple forward tuck off a 1-meter springboard, to 3.0 for a reverse 3 1/2 somersault with a half twist off a 3-meter springboard."

"Yes," I murmured, "I'll be doing both of those dives. See you tomorrow at 2:00 then." I had analyzed my weaknesses and decided on a program that would minimize them. It would mean doing lower degree of difficulties, but I could go wild on the 3-meter, when it didn't count.

When I got there, Nancy was already in the water trolling along so beautifully lazy and fetching. Greg and I came out together. He was not happy doing this; he confessed it would be his weakest effort. We were introduced to the judges, Michelle, Bill Williams, whom I had seen on occasion, and Martha Kirsten, whom I had never met. Our team, in the form of Phil and Neil had come along also, just to witness this part of the contest. I had asked Neil to keep score on paper, just for comparison.

It was decided that we alternate for the first six compulsory dives, then have a half hour rest before the optionals. Michelle decided on a rotation led by Greg and concluded by me. Greg started by doing a decent front dive tuck; his weight allowed him to get really good height. His height made the dive look more dramatic also. Nancy did her front dive pike, And, I did mine layout, using the new straight as a board layout without the back arch that I had always used in the water ballet. I was ahead, whooppeee.

Greg did a reverse dive pike, barely making it. Nancy did her back dive layout. I also did a back dive layout, with a deep arch and straightening by swing my arms straight over my ears to punch into the water-no splash at all. I noticed on television that Olympic divers did not use this particular arm motion. I thought it looked better than their arm motion, and it had the effect of straightening the dive well.

Greg did a really good tuck back dive. It was dramatic partly because no one did it that way anymore. Nancy did a very good inward pike. I did a very good inward dive layout, which looked higher and more difficult than it was. I remember I had first added to my repertoire at the State Championship, almost missing it, but still winning the gold metal; now it was one of the easiest I did.

Greg did his inward dive pike, reaching down too fast, but getting vertical at the end. Nancy was slow on her reverse dive pike and lost points from the unfinished rotation. I did mine pike also, because I could get higher and it looked good when I brought the toes up to touch the vertical fingers.

The twist dives were completed by Greg and Nancy doing the same half twist layout. I did one and a half twists, which one of the judges questioned. Michelle talked to him, doubtless pointing out that we had submitted the dive list to them several days before, with the approved difficulties. He seemed uncomfortable, but shrugged and held his card up as a 7. I had to remind myself not to frown or glare. I though about floating in air.

Greg performed a single somersault tuck, making some splash. It was hard to land blind and feet down. I still had a few dives that entered feet-first, but like most I had converted to headfirst dives. Nancy did a one and a half somersault tuck. And, for mine, I did a one and a half somersault layout, almost over-rotating since I had gotten so much height, but pulling it under the water.

And, it was time to rest. I went over to Greg and congratulating him on doing so well.

We kept to the same rotation for the final dives. I calculated that Nancy was far enough behind and Greg was out of the running, unless they came up with something awesome. I was quite happy since I did my best dives with a comfortable lead. In fact, I remembered that the week after the state championship, I was close behind Ben at the last dive and flubbed it. In fact it seemed that the only time I ever won was when I had an insurmountable lead. At the nationals I had the lead after the first dive but dropped almost a place with each dive, finishing eighth.

Greg started with a one and a half, and actually went over a little; he was happy, since in practice he had trouble rotating all the way (he said). Nancy did the same dive almost perfectly. I tried a more difficult dive, a flying reverse half twist with two and a half somersaults tuck. It was perfect, if I don't say so myself. The problem judge signaled for a meeting with Michelle before he held up his card. I suppose they talked about the fact that there was no formal degree of difficulty for that dive, so Michelle had assigned it a 3.0 and I was happy enough with that. He gave me another 7. I put a gymnast's smile on my face and walked to wash off.

Greg did a reverse somersault, coming too close to the board and landing on his knees. I think he got 3s. Nancy did a back one and a half, coming up a little short on her extension. I did a back one and a half with one and a half twists.

Greg did a back somersault tuck, going in with little splash. I noticed he had learned the new style of tucking with the legs apart. I always thought that was cheating. It may have looked okay to the judges on the side, but from the front or back it looked a little froggy. I kept everything pressed close together, even though I might not have been able to rotate at the highest speed possible. Considering some of my dives, I think I rotated about as fast as anyone. Nancy did a reverse somersault tuck. She was really graceful. I reminded myself to ask her where she had learned to dive. I cranked out a forward three and a half somersaults tuck. When I hit with my hands, I was still in a tuck, so I extended my legs and back straight as I entered the water, praying that it looked like I was straight the entire time. The problem judge questioned that, also and dropped me to a 6.

Greg did an inward somersault, landing flat-footed but extended. Nancy did an inward one and a half, with a perfect entry. I did a flying inward one and a half somersault with a flying end, also. It looked really good when it worked because minimal time was spent in the tuck; it seemed that most of the dive was layout.

For his final dive Greg did a forward somersault with a half twist at the end, with his best entry. Nancy did a one and a half somersault with a full twist. It was good but she was a little wild with her arms and a little uncertain on the entry. I noticed that the "problem judge" gave her an 8. For my last dive I did a reverse double with one full twist, but I did half the twist first, then one and a half somersault and before I finished the other half somersault, I added the other half of the twist, whipping my arms down to my sides. This let me see the water so I could point my toes. I extended my toes so far my calf cramped as I entered the water. When I came up, Michele was conferring with "Mr. Notes-unread" judge.

I went over and blew water at Greg and Nancy. I felt so good. I reminded them that I had asked to do a series on the 3-meter for points (that did not count). Then I went over and talked to the judges about the 3-meter dives, just to make sure there was agreement. For instance, I knew my front five and a half somersaults would also raise questions about degree of difficulty.

The dives themselves did not quite go as well as the 1-meter, partly because I was tired and partly because it was hard to adjust so quickly to the change in height. I only made one awkward mistake. On the back double somersault layout, I went slightly too far and my suit went halfway up my lower intestine. It took me a minute under water to pull it out. When I got out I saw Tina in the balcony. It figured; she always was there to see my worst effort.

 

                                               Required                                 Optional                                 Calculation             Total

Nancy                      191                                                   278                                                   469x1.2                        563

Greg                             170                                                   229                                                   399x1.2                        479

Des                                 287                                                   421                                                   708x1.2                        858

 

I won. It was my best sport. In the air I was godlike, in the water I was a fish, but on the land I was an arthritic wolf, no good at the sprint but good for the distance. Nancy claimed second, Greg was happy with third.

Nancy wanted to eat at the new Motel by the mall but Greg and I overruled her and we went to Sweet Ed's at the other mall. Tina met Nancy for the first time; I could read her body language, poised to respond to the threat of a younger woman. I ignored both. I loved that place; Ed and I had graduated together, and I had been eating his food once a week ever since. Milk shakes. Nancy said she would win next time and we would go the motel, Best Worstern. Tina fiddled with my hair during the conversation.

 

Round Seven. Fencing Sunday

We had decided on the foil, for basic reasons: No one had any Épée or sabres locally. I still had my foil from high school and Hamud was able to find a few more at Wazoo. We had reserved a room in the new gym for this contest. I was telling Hamud and the rest, "The foil has a flexible, rectangular blade, about 35 inches in length, and weighing less than a pound. Points are scored with the tip of the blade and must land within the torso of the body; no head or arm contact. You've had a month to plan for this. Have any of you ever used this before?"

"Yes," said Nancy and Greg at the same time, Nancy adding, "No contact on the legs or neck either. Are you going to introduce this sport?"

I figured that she was humoring me, but I had spent part of the past week familiarizing them with the positions and techniques of the sport. Greg had done a little fencing also in high school. "Well, at the time of Ramses III, a bas-relief shows fencers wearing masks and holding button-tipped weapons. After that, Romans used swords, Japanese sabres, Turkish scimitars, and Spaniards rapiers. The French, Nancy please note, first used the foil in the 1600s. The foil was used in the first modern Olympic games."

Hamud said, "I have the uniforms. The vests are not lamé, so the judges will score points. I will be the head judge, and Jaromil and Phil will be assistant judges. Only hits on the target area, the torso will be scored. The "off target" hits do not count in the scoring, but they do stop the fencing action temporarily."

I was thinking about my last match with the saber, which I had won by scoring my point on my opponent's big toe.

"-you know defense must be effected exclusively with the guard and the blade, used either separately or together. You may hold the handle in any way you wish and you may also alter the position of your hand on the handle during a bout. The weapon must be used without your hand leaving the hilt. Obviously, I hope, it may not transformed into a throwing weapon. Understood?"

I still had the scars on the back of my right hand from Chris's vicious overhead assault once, long ago.

Hamud was continuing, "-maximum length of the grip in foil is 20 cm. Nothing, not part of the handle or your thumb, can extend beyond the surface of the guard. Okay. Let me look at the weapons."

"I will be the referee again. Phil and Neil will be the floor judges at each end of the piste, you know the long mat that you have to stay on. Rex and Jaromil will be the timers, who also record each touch, as signaled by me, the referee. As you remember, I hope, each bout is 9 minutes long, in 3-minute segments, divided by 1 minute of rest. The winner is the first to score 15 points, or if the time expires, the leader. If the score is tied after 9 minutes, then there is a 1-minute sudden death. Take a few minutes to warm up. The piste is 10 meters long and 1.5 meters wide; the last two meters at each end is marked with tape, so that you know when you are at the end. Remember, if both feet leave the piste, a touch is awarded to your opponent."

There was a small audience, with Tina, Lacy, Mars (I think Nancy said he was from Germany-I had asked her to ask him if he wanted to participate), and Michelle, the swim coach.

Nancy and I had the first match. Hamud introduced us, and we gave a salute to each other, before we put on our masks. The referee blew his whistle and the timers started keeping time. Nancy lunged first, but I parried with a quinte and riposted straight to her middle. Hamud signaled a point. We walked back to the middle to the on guard position, the back arm bent upward and the weapon hand held out to the opponent. We were both fencing right handed. It occurred to me that she had a slight tactical advantage, being smaller and presenting a smaller target.

I stepped forward to attack, but she stepped back at the same speed. So I attacked faster and lunged, throwing my back arm down; lunged again, stretching out. She backed up and kept backing off the mat. Hamud signaled another point for me.

Nancy, well her mask, looked thoughtful coming back to the center. We started again. She remembered the fleche, the running attack, but I was able to parry as I was stepping back covering more distance than she did. I attacked to her prime, but she parried with a prime and reached my chest, the tierce, with her riposte. She did learn, rats.

I won the first segment. I won the bout 15 to 7.

Greg and I fought next. I won that bout 15 to 11.

Nancy and Greg fought to 12-9 after 15 minutes, with Greg the winner. Because I won the second bout against each, there would not be a third bout. Then Nancy reminded Jaromil that we had decided to always have the third bout, even in tennis, to keep the point count even. So, we went to the third.

 

                                                1                           2                               3                               Calc                                Total

Nancy                       7                           6                               8                                                                              

Des                                  15                       15                          15                           88x11.1                   977

                                                                                                                                                                                                    

Des                                  15                       15                          13                                                                         

Greg                             11                       8                               12                           68x11.1                   755

                                                                                                                                                                                                    

Greg                             12                       11                          14                                                                         

Nancy                       9                           15                          8                               53x11.1                   589

 

Round Eight: Golf Monday

"You mean you've never played golf?" Tina asked me two weeks ago.

"Of course, I've played golf in the original form, hitting small stones with a wooden stick towards a specific point, like a tree. But, I only got to the clubs and ball invention last week on a miniature golf course. What on earth will I do with a choice of eight clubs?" I wondered.

"You know, I mean remember, that I used to play golf at Whitman College," she offered, "so I could teach you the basics of the equipment and the course."

"Thanks," I said appreciatively, "but remember, I've been running on that course five times a week for the past ten years."

So, for the first time, since we went bicycling together five years ago, we went out on the university golf course and engaged in a sport together.

I was saying, "I never really consider golf, bowling, billiards, or car-racing for that matter as being real sports. Any activity you can engage in with a drink in your hand cannot be a real sport."

"Many golfers are great athletes," Tina said in a measured tone. "You would do well ..." she trailed off.

And, I got the message. So, I held my tongue, since I needed her help.

"My philosophy is to listen, then, maybe to evaluate your swing flaws, and let you fix it. My goal is to encourage you to reach your goals, and to have as much fun as possible." She was so formal.

After a week and a half, I almost felt ready for today.

 

"Welcome to the Common and Modern Golf Club of St. Potatoes," Jaromil greeted us, referencing the Royal and Ancient Golf Club of St. Andrews, the founders of the first rules of the game. We had reserved the course at the University of Idaho, in Moscow for Round 8 of the Dodecathlon.

Jaromil continued, "You can rent what you need from the office, if you don't already have it. We have the course from now until dusk. Those of you who were here yesterday had a chance to familiarize yourselves with the course. Others of you already used it. As you know, the course is 18 holes through a nice natural environment-"

"Natural?" I burst out automatically. "It's quite unnatural, this is at best a short-grass prairie-"

"I know, I'm aware of your views on ecology, Des," Jaromil interrupted back, "but for the purpose of describing the course design, it is called natural, with natural obstacles, even though the fairway, teeing ground, and putting green are made of an exotic grass. The course is a Par 70, with 18 holes. We will-yes?"

"Is this going to be stroke play?" Nancy asked.

"Yes, I was getting to that. Please let me finish, please," Jaromil begged. "It will be stroke play for 36 holes, which will be played in two rounds, both today, with an hour between rounds."

"Can we use a cart?" Nancy asked.

"I was getting to that, please. You may use up to 14 clubs and 14 balls. You may use a caddy or cart to transport them."

"Hey, is that standard?" Nancy asked.

"It is the rule we will use. You may also wear gloves, or a glove. Golf shoes are optional; you may also wear running shoes, track shoes or soccer shoes if you want."

"Any rules on golf bags?" I asked, planning on using my old leather postal bag for my three whole clubs.

"No. I will be the rougheree, I mean, referee," Jaromil smiled.

"Maybe the reeferee? Are we allowed to laugh or make noise?" Greg asked.

"No. According to the rules in "The Golf Whisperer" there can be no loud noise of any kind. Furthermore, no spectators-"

"You're kidding, right," Greg and I chorused at the same time.

"Yes, I was kidding, but please do not bring more than two guests each. Do not bring guns or any other weapons that make noise-just kidding, really, seriously. Any disputes will be resolved by the Rules of God, I mean, Golf. For instance, a player or caddie must not take any action to influence the position or the movement of a ball except in accordance with the Rules. The penalty is disqualification of the player.

"Now, just to remind you, the goal of the game is to drive the ball from the tee to the hole in as few strokes as possible; the ball must drop into the hole. This is a stroke-play tournament. You will keep your own score, and compare them to par for the course. In order to have this add up to 1000 points, every shot will nominally be worth 6 points; shots under par are added in at 10 point each and shots over par are subtracted at 8 points each. Any questions."

"Why those numbers?" I asked.

"Nancy can explain this better," Jaromil suggested.

So, we discussed it briefly. We all knew who would win (Nancy); this was just for the purpose of equalizing the different scoring systems of the sports.

We walked over to the club house to pick out our equipment. As we were assembling our various accoutrements, the golf pro, Blake, came up to introduce the course, "This golf course is a challenging par 72. Originally designed by Francis L. James as a nine hole golf course in 1933, it was redesigned and expanded by Bob Bolduck in 1968. The front nine of U of I golf course is a par 37 with three par fives. It plays at 3117 total yards from the middle tees, 3344 yards from the back tees-"

"We'll just be playing the back tees," Nancy interrupted.

"Okay, then the back nine is a par 35 with only one par five, but it's equally challenging because of two long par-three holes. The back tees' make a sum of 3293, Only three greens, all on the front nine, are two-tiered. Some greens play faster than others. Playing surfaces vary a great deal throughout the day, depending on the local weather conditions. You may be surprised by the rolling hills, some quite steep-lots of tough side-hill lies. But, it's a fun course. I hope you enjoy it."

Greg was thinking out loud, "If we hit the first ball 6636 yards, then get it in a hole at 1 yard, can we birdie the whole course? At par, it averages 92 yards per stroke. I suppose that's irrelevant, considering the greens-"

"Thank you, Blake," Jaromil said. "We appreciate it."

"Remember," Blake reminded us, "we have the NAIA tournament tomorrow."

I shrugged. I was sure we would be through by dawn.

We had paid our fees of $10 each. Nancy had rented a power cart for $12.50, Greg a pull-cart, and me a set of clubs for $6.

We walked out to the first tee. I looked ahead. It was straight with a few pines uphill. Jaromil felt it was important to announce the hole and so he did, "Hole 1 is a par 4 dog-leg left with a pond wrapping around the left front left side of the green. It plays at 386 yards, from the back tee, that is. Nancy, ladies first."

Nancy teed off first, with a 3-wood and drove the ball about 200 yards straight down the fairway. I went next, with my yellow ball and 1-wood. Although my ball went a few dozen yards further, it was close to the rough on the east side. Greg's ball went just under 200 yards. I noticed that we all used different grips, from my baseball to Nancy's interlocking grip. Nancy got on the green on her second shot, using a 9-iron. I managed to get almost as close, but in a sand trap. Greg was at the left front edge of the green, a good place. Nancy looked in her notes for the ball speed for the first green; then she putted it in. It looked so easy. Greg missed, going past the hole, but only went a foot or two past. I used my 8-iron, having decided not to carry a wedge in my bag. I was sure I would be missing the traps. Bad plan, in retrospect. I barely got on the green. Greg tapped his in. I had to putt mine 14 feet, but I made it. Nancy was ahead by 1. Greg asked if she could carry his bag in her cart. Neither of us had carts. I was so used to running on the course, so I could not imagine driving.

Hole 2 was a short par three only 156 yards from the back tee. Nancy hit straight at the flag stick, hitting the green as it sloped slightly left. I followed with a 200-yarder that went behind the trees. I was wondering if I should have carried more clubs. Greg drove a modest 120-yards to below the green. Nancy missed the putt. I had to declare my shot unplayable and take a one-stroke penalty. I dropped a new ball next to a tree. Normally I would have tried to play out, but the count probably would have been worse, or the same. Anyway, I got back on the fairway about 10 yards from the hole. Greg's ball almost hit Nancy's, it was so close. Nancy got par.

Hole 3, from the back tee markers, was 390 yards. Nancy drove 220 yards. I drove 230 and Greg 240; all three balls were within spitting distance, Nancy's being furthest left. The green was fairly flat, but was two-tiered. Nancy's next shot was about 15 yards longer because of the uphill approach. I decided to imitate her in all things now, rather than try to beat her with strength. I also went slightly uphill of the hole. Greg went too far uphill I thought. Nancy birdied the Par 4, while I took two to get par. Greg ended up with par also.

Greg decided to tease me, "So, are you going to shoot your weight?"

"Well," I answered, "I'd prefer to shoot my age."

But Nancy had the last word, "If I shot either of your IQs, I'd be course champion."

I knew the 4^th hole; it went straight to the water tower, which I ran along every day to get to the old highway. At 556 yards, it was the longest hole on the course, and a difficult Par 5. And it seemed longer because it was slightly uphill. If at all possible, keep your ball on the left two-thirds of the fairway, I remembered from Tina. I knew every drop and rise in the ground. Nancy did a decent job getting to par. I aimed dead-center at the water tower and swung; the right side was out of bounds towards the highway and the left side sloped downs towards the Hole 3 fairway. My ball landed in the center. Another long shot and two puts and I had a birdie at last. Greg landed at the edge of the rough after his first shot, but was able to play it well, although it was almost a blind shot. He also got a birdie. I saw Nancy raise her eyebrows minutely.

Hole 5 ran down hill into a bowl. It looked like an easy 171 yards. Nancy made the birdie look easy. My shot was long again and the follow-up went into the sand trap on the left. Greg hit the upper slope of the green and made an easy par from there.

Hole 6 was a 491 yard par five. Nancy birdied it with good shots. She told me to slice away, although I was not sure what she meant. The fairway sloped dramatically from right to left. I got to the green in two, but it did not do me any good, as I flailed around and was lucky to get par. The green played a little long because it was uphill. Greg got there in two shots also but got a birdie. I watched as he put the ball uphill from the hole and let a gentle putt roll in for a birdie.

Hole 7 was gently rolling, like a miniature course that had been inflated. And, a miracle of water management, there was a pond in front of it. From the back tee, the hole was 526 yards. Nancy did not try to get over the pond with two shots. She carefully placed the third at the upper edge of the green. But, she needed all five to get to Par. I was able to get past the water hazard on two shots, but I needed three more to get to par, also. Greg got by it in two, and he needed only two to get a birdie.

Jaromil felt compelled to introduce this hole, "This is a 375-yard hole. Your tee shot must be hit far enough to get a look around the sweeping dog-leg to the left, but if you hit too far, you'll end up in the rough or the trees."

"For god's sake, Jaromil, every hole here is a dog leg, either a short front dog leg or a long one. Even 13 is the hind leg of a dog. Stop saying that," I was not happy.

"It's just an expression, Des, don't sweat it. You should be concentrating."

I ignored that, but he was wrong, I should be unconcentrating. What should I do? Be the ball? Be the course? Be the leg?

The approach to Hole 8 was flat, with a few pine trees. Nancy got an easy birdie. I on the other hand flirted with the stream on the right side, but was still able to get a bogie with a maximum of effort. Be the rough, be the bogie. Indeed. Greg got the Par 4 for himself. His second shot made it to the elevated, two-tiered green, but the sloping front half, so he needed the second putt.

Hole 9 looked like an easy finishing hole for the front side, at a modest 293 yards. The fairway traveled uphill from the tee box almost all the way to the two-tiered green, which lay in front of the club house. After our first shots, however, it looked all uphill. Nancy made a good approach shot. She was able to cut the left corner successfully. Many golfers try to cut the slight corner to the left, but the cart path designated the out of bounds line. In fact, we all made par. We took a break and had parts of bottles of water. I had decided to forgo my cola addiction until after the game.

Despite the fact that two large trees threatened to catch the tee shots, all three of us birdied Hole 10. It was a good start for me. I did not feel the need to driver the ball as far as I could. The hole was straight downhill 375 yards away. I noticed that Nancy had used a long iron off the tee, while Greg and I used fairway woods.

Hole 11 went straight uphill 406 yards with two pines. Par four I remembered, then spoke over Jaromil, saying, "another dogleg, left, I know." Jaromil shrugged. No one else mentioned it. In fact, we were very quiet. That has a slight dogleg to the left. Nancy hit her tee shot to the left, to miss the trees. I tried to follow exactly, but ended up in good position anyway. Greg came closer to the trees. When we got to the green, it seemed to slope even more to the front. Now, three pars were recorded. I wondered how often people got in synchrony at this game.

Hole 12 was only slightly shorter at 400 yards. But, the tee sat high above the relatively wide fairway. Nancy was as precise and controlled as ever, but I think Greg and I both swung for world-record drives. Mine certainly had distance, but it went out of bounds. I got it back in easily, but then I was in the trees around the green. Nancy and Greg birdied it, but I made par, with a heroic put.

This hole, 13, had a back dog leg. Crowded with trees at end and was a par 5 for 504 yards. Nancy cut the corner from her tee with a hooking drive. I tried to duplicate it. Greg hit his shot out of bounds. Nancy got an eagle. I got a birdie. Greg recovered to par.

Hole 14 was straight, slightly uphill, and short like Hole 2; it was only 227 yards, but the fairway was lined with trees. Nancy shot well. Greg and I restrained our drives. No one went out of bounds this time. Greg and Nancy got birdies. I got one over par.

To the right of a mown wheat field, Hole 15 had a dog-leg right around a group of large willow trees; other trees elsewhere begged to come into play. From the back tees, there was a good view of the course. Nancy and Greg got birdies, and I had to settle for another over par, all because my put rolled too fast over the hole. I mentally blamed the hole-it should have gone in, in fact, it did go in, it just bounced out immediately.

Hole 16: Open, treeless, waterless, but bounded by a severe drop and a narrow bounds, right and left. The green, 383 yards away, was flat but also dropped off in the back. Nancy and I got birdies, and Greg had to settle for a Par 4.

It seemed that Hole 17 was skyward, uphill, with a few trees on the sides. It seemed longer than its measly 232 yards. Nancy was lucky to get par. Greg was one over and I was two over. My muscles seemed to be ignoring the messages from the brain. I had shot the ball out of bounds on the right side, and my chip back to the green was a blind shot.

From Hole 18, we could see back to the clubhouse. It was a right-sloping fairway. Nancy said, charitably, "Choose the upper fairway. The lower is nearly out of bounds on the right side and the left side has a drop."

Greg nodded. Hole 18 played at 415 yards from the back tees. Nancy drove 180 yards. I followed closely. Greg hit further, but still in good position. Nancy birdied. Greg and I got par. I almost birdied but my ball stopped an inch from the cup. I sighed. I had done better than I thought, but not good enough to get better than third.

 

                                                       1                                   2                                   Calculation                                  Total

Nancy                              68                               67                               72+4x2+10x10                    900

Des                                         82                               81                               72-10x2x10                               520

Greg                                     74                               75                               72-2x2x10                                    680

 

We congratulated Nancy, then told her we had to have burgers at Sweet Ed's. She agreed. It was the least expensive dinner, even with milk shakes all around.

 

Round Nine. Gymnastics Tuesday

The next day was to be mine. I knew that because I had helped Greg and Nancy with their routines. We were at the gym room at the new gym at Idaho. It opened out to the sloping field where I had practiced with the gymnastics club for years. I had good memories of that field, which was useful for learning somersaults, since it sloped just enough to yield extra momentum when learning.

When I had worked at Penn State, with the Litany Nylons, I mean Nittany Lions, it had been called the free exercise, possibly because it was free of objects or apparatus-the gymnast had only his own muscles on a flat surface, and that was once a bare wooden floor. Ah, I was rambling.

Hamud was hamming for the camera, which we had decided to use for the rest of the rounds, "The entire floor area, the entire 40 by 40-foot mat, should be used during the exercise, which consists primarily of tumbling passes performed in different directions. Some elements must be performed during the routine: Acrobatic elements forward and backward and an acrobatic elements sideward or backward take-off with 1⁄2 turn. There must also be a balance element on one leg or one arm, held for two seconds with a minimum of "B" value, or a static strength move, held for two seconds with a minimum of "B" value. Transitional skills, dance, or gymnastics movements performed in between tumbling and acrobatic passes, should be executed with proper rhythm and harmony. The exercise must be at least 50 seconds long and must not exceed 70 seconds in length."

Hamud," I asked, "are the judges going to concentrate on tumbling primarily, and continue to neglect grace and continuity?" I was expressing my own prejudice here, at the turn gymnastics had taken after the Russian dominance, where stiff wooden figures tumbled dramatically but then moved awkwardly in the seconds between.

"Um, as you know," he started, "neither university has a gymnastics program, none of the judges are really very sophisticated, and you guys are either callow or elderly," he said, winking at me, "so I suspect that we will be emphasizing nontumbling aspects as well."

I did not take offense at his comment. The hardest thing for me to do at my advanced age was to get flexible enough to bend my back or spread my legs in a split. So, that was what I had worked on the most.

He concluded: "During a floor exercise routine, one mat up to 4 inches thick may be placed in one location for a D-skill landing. Another rule: Full difficulty exercise with less than a B-value dismount shall receive a medium deduction. And, finally, you get a bonus for each C or D part over three receiving a 0.1 bonus, up to 0.6 point. Are the judges ready?" he asked, making eye contact with them. "Let's begin, then."

By the draw, Greg went first. He did an cartwheel into a short series of back handsprings, ending with a back salto tuck. He immediately moved about thirty degrees to the left with a cartwheel into a handstand. He lowered his handstand into a planche, but could not hold it. From his knees, he pushed back into another handstand, held it for two seconds, then did a half turn into walkover then another walkover and a front handspring and a half handspring to his hands and another handstand.

Nancy started with a leaping split, then a cartwheel to a back handspring to a salto. She rolled over then arched her back. She smiled in a natural, unforced way, as she moved. That was great. She looked like she was enjoying it, rather than straining.

Now, it was my turn. I started with a hand stand, then went into a forward handspring and two more, each accelerating until I did a one and a half somersault, catching myself on my hands and tumbling, but immediately leaping into a reverse somersault and nailing the landing, which I held for two seconds. When I was younger I might have tried a double or thrown a twist into it. Jumping with my own muscles was the hard part of tumbling, especially after depending on the diving board or the trampoline for the extra push. From the landing of the reverse. I moved left into a half cartwheel into a handstand. Then I brought my legs straight down 90 degrees and brought my nose between my knees. Then I lifted my right arm out and held that for two seconds. I lifted out and into a back walkover, and started a series of back handsprings, with a layout somersault, then a tuck double. I nailed the landing although I had not quite untucked completely. I fell forward into a planche. I pushed up into a handstand. From there I tucked and tumbled, leaping straight up into a swan dive and a half rotation and another tumble, but this one to a swan with a half twist and a roll to standing, then to an almost good split. My dismount was a simple back somersault layout, which I really punched.

 

                                                                    Routine                               Calculation                           Total

Des                                                      8.9                                               x100                                                 900

Greg                                                  7.1                                               x100                                                 710

Nancy                                           7.5                                               x100                                                 790

 

I won, but then that meant I had to pay for dinner. I think we ached too much, all of us, to eat or talk much.

 

Round Ten. Judo Wednesday

Greg and Nancy were matched in the random draw. We were in the new martial arts room at Wazoo. They bowed to each other before moving on to the tatami, which was 10 meters square, including the danger area, and the safety area was another 3 meters on a side. They positioned themselves on their marks according to the color of their outfit (judogi-Nancy was in blue because her name was called as first fighter, judoka, Greg was in white). At the marks they bowed again.

The referee, Hamud, started their fight with "Hajime!"

They circled each other, looking for a hold. Greg grabbed Nancy's left sleeve, but couldn't hold as she moved. She grabbed his sleeves and pulled whichever way he moved. He ran towards her and threw her onto her leg, getting credit for a koka. Greg then threw her and pinned her to the ground for 25 seconds, gaining an "ippon," which won him the match.

Nancy and I fought. I threw her and pinned her for over 20 seconds, but was missing sufficient speed to win immediately. My Waza-ari was worth 7 points.

Greg and I fought. Greg could not use his superior strength, without me using it against him. But, then he was better at this than I was. He got me with a controlled throw. I rolled on my back and was up so fast that I pushed him to his knee. Three points for me. I rushed him, but stopped and the referee blew a penalty, a Shido, for faking an attack. He got 3 points for the penalty. I danced backwards from him, not letting him even get a grip on my sleeves. Then the referee blew another penalty on me, this time for overly defensive conduct. That was ridiculous. Defense was the essence of "the gentle way." I suppose though it was much less exciting than the throws and pins. Greg was awarded 3 more points. The mat judge signaled the referee and they conferred. They changed the penalty to 5 points instead of 3 points.

I was able to throw Greg with a technique that was missing only one of the four elements: landing, control, force, and speed. That gave me a Waza-ari and enough to get me over 0 points again.

I couldn't keep away from Greg, and yet I could not throw him and pin him to the ground. Then I was not careful and he threw me, getting credit for a Waza-ari.

The rest of the match I was able to hold on to his sleeves. The match ended after five minutes, without a definite pin, an Ippon. Greg had the highest score.

 

                                        GvN                   NvD                      GvD                       Calculation                           Total

Greg                     10                                                                  15                               500+400                                   900

Nancy               1                               4                                                                          100+200+200                 500

Des                                                             13                              10                               415+375                                   790

 

Greg agreed to treat us to dinner at the small vegetarian restaurant on Main Street, there not being a Japanese restaurant in Moscow or Pullman.

 

Round Eleven. Racquetball Thursday

"Racquetball is the wacky cross-product of tennis, handball, and squash. It is played on a standard squash court, but the ball is bigger, bouncier and bluer," I was explaining to Tina.

"Yes, I know. You made me play last year," she sighed.

"I thought you enjoyed it?'

"No, too much running around in a cage."

"Yea, okay, just remember how easy it was to get the ball next time we play tennis, which reminds me, I need to practice that. Can we play soon?" I begged.

"Maybe Saturday, after the vegetable shopping. Okay?"

That was two months ago, and I was remembering when I had free time to play for fun. Today was racquetball.

 

We met Jaromil, Neil, and Gil at the computing center, under the armpit of the stadium at Wazoo. Since they were ready, we all walked down the stairs to the reserved court, which had a glass back wall and bleachers for observers. The court was an enclosed rectangular room with a flush glass door in the centre of the glass rear wall. In play, all four walls and the floor would be used.

We sat on the bleachers and went over the basic rules. Jaromil was making the formal presentation of them, "Two players, each with a racquet, take turns to hit the ball onto the front wall within the large area defined by the red line at the top of the court ('out of court line') and the red line marking the top of the tin at the bottom of the front wall.

"A rally begins when the server, standing forward of the short line, bounces the ball and strikes it with an under-arm action. For the service to be good, the ball must directly hit the front wall between the 'out of court' line and the tin, and rebound back to land on the floor behind the short line of the serving zone."

I was looking at my racquet, unlike a tennis racquet, with a larger head and a shorter handle, so it was easier to manipulate. It encouraged longer rallying, and improved hand-eye co-ordination skills as the ball bounced around the walls and between the players.

Jaromil was saying, "The receiver stands between the short line and the back wall. If the service is good, the receiver strikes the ball so that it returns to the front wall. On its way to the front wall, the ball may hit the ceiling, back or side walls first, but must not hit an opponent, hit the tin or touch the floor before reaching the front wall. The receiver may chose to strike the service ball 'on the full,' before it strikes any surface.

"A match will consist of three games with each game played to 21 points, with the player having the highest score winning the match. If the score in any game in the second version reaches 20-all, the winner of that game is the player to first reach 22 points. Any questions?"

"What's a tin?" Nancy asked.

"I don't know," Jaromil confessed, "I think it's the upper part of an open court without a ceiling. The only thing I am concerned with now is that you use a standard racket, and goggles for eye protection. You can wear any light clothing such as a t-shirt, shorts and white-soled sports shoes, and I see you are."

 

We warmed up for five minutes by specific muscle stretching and hitting a few balls. Then Jaro brought out a coin. The player winning the coin toss has the option to either serve or receive at the start of the first game. Nancy won the toss and decided to serve. The second game would begin in reverse order of the first game.

Nancy and I went first. The games was started by the referee calling "time in." She was serving from the service zone-two lines that ran the width of the court-and although her left foot was over the line, it was not completely over it, so there was no "foot-fault" (and of course she was not allowed to start behind the zone and move into it either). She dropped the ball and hit it against the wall on the first bounce up. The server must always begin the service motion in the service zone. She had to drop the ball, allow it to bounce on the ground once, and hit it towards the front wall. The serve must hit the front wall, and may hit one side wall, and must land on the ground between the service zone and the back wall. She was trying to serve fast and low so I could not get to it, but her first serve hit before the rear line of the zone, and she had to serve again.

Her second serve was a floater that landed in the middle of the court; I almost waited too long before returning it. I hit it low, but she had been watching and ran forward quickly to catch it on the first bounce and hit a high return. So, I also hit a high one. On her next high return I hit it at a sharp angle in the corner and it went immediately from the corner to the side wall and the other side wall-it died before she could follow it all the way. It was my serve and my chance to score. Scoring is done the same way as volleyball. Only the server can score points. The server scores one point for winning a rally. The receiver gets a "sideout" for winning a rally and serves the next rally. We were playing our games to 21 rather than the traditional 15.

It was my serve and I tried a fancy high shot. I thought it was perfect, but the referee called a "single fault", saying that the served ball hit the front wall and then the ceiling. I disagreed but had to give up the serve. Other single faults are the long serve, where the served ball hits the front wall and then the back wall before hitting the ground and the short serve, where the served ball hits the front wall and then the ground before passing the service zone; the screen serve, where the server blocks the view of the ball; and, the 3-wall serve, where the served ball hits the front wall and then two side walls before hitting the ground. Two consecutive single faults are a "double fault" and result in the loss of service.

She served again. It was a good serve and it died in the right back corner; I couldn't scrape it up. It was her point and she led 1-0. We returned to our respective positions (we had 10 seconds to do that), and then the score was called. I blasted her next serve, which was low, into the front corner and it was my serve again. I served a high ball that hit the floor, then back wall and moved along the sidewall. She could not reach it and the score was 1-1.

The next couple of points were interesting. First, her goggles started to slip, so she raised her racquet and turned away. It is the server's responsibility to look and be certain the receiver is ready. If the receiver is not ready, the receiver must signal so by raising the racquet above the head or completely turning the back to the server. These are the only two acceptable signals.

She had great vitality, running all over the place. But, I was more efficient. I was able to hit the low shots that rolled out and were impossible to return. I also had a wicked serve that went from the front wall, grazed the side wall, and died before it hit the back wall. Her youth and strength gave her little advantage, though. I won all three games by at least five points each, crafty old fart that I felt.

I was not too tired to play Greg afterwards, but I knew we were evenly matched, from years of playing together. He was able to get most of my good serves. I was able to respond to his, which were mostly low and fast. The first game, we went to twenty each, before he pulled ahead and won at 23-21. The second game I won 21-19. The third promised to be another close one but he won it 21-18.

Nancy had been resting and studying us. Although Greg won the first one with an easy 21-17, she came back and won the second, 21-19. But, Crag responded to her style. The last game, she was red-faced from exertion, Greg was huffing a little bit, but he was able to play with less movement and effort; the ball seemed to come to him no matter where he was.

Greg won the round, but I was a close second.

 

NvD1-NvD2-NvD3-GvD1-GvD2-GvD3-GvN1-GvN2-GvN3-Total

Greg                                                                            23                       19 21      21           19               21                   920

Nan 11 15 16                                                                                  17             21               18                   794

Des 21 21           21                 21                       21                       18                                                                                      884

 

No one could think of a good place to eat. Greg suggested McDonald's, but we glared at him until he shrugged. Finally Nancy suggested the new restaurant at the Best Worstern, which had a good salad bar and decent fish. So, we went there.

 

Round Twelve. Rowing Friday

We were five minutes into the rowing. I was breathing well and trying to increase my strokes per minute to beat Greg. As usual, I was daydreaming about the next book review I was going to write. Then, I had a small twinge in my back that reminded me why I was here, in the weight rooms at the Wazoo gym.

Just ten minutes ago Neil had been saying, "Let me give you a few insights into rowing. First of all, rowers are probably the world's best athletes. Rowing looks graceful and sometimes effortless when it is done well. Don't be fooled. Rowers haven't been called the world's most physically fit athletes for nothing. The sport demands endurance, strength, balance, mental discipline, and an ability to continue on when your body-"

"Smells like 'bullshit.' I bet if we put rowers in the water or a ring, they wouldn't hold up much," Greg interrupted.

"-demanding that you stop. Okay, no need to be rude," Neil answered calmly. "This, I mean, because we do not have a water course, we are hosting the rowing here. It will be like single sculling, where the athletes have two oars, one in each hand, but on these machines, which we adjusted just yesterday. Normally, rowers are categorized by sex, age and weight. However, at your request, with such a mix of all three, we will ignore that and have a mixed open-weight, open-age contest."

"You will still be competing in terms of strokes per minute (SPM). The machine will record time, and this will be a thirty-minute race, as well as distance, heartbeats, calories spent, and whatever. At the end of the time, whoever has gone the farthest distance wins. Are there any questions?" Neil asked. "You had a few days to familiarize yourself with the equipment. I'll be the referee. We start at exactly 1:30 p.m. Oh, you can each have a bottle of water by the rower."

Naturally I had read up on this sport, and I suspect Nancy had, also, and I knew that we had all used the machines before, but I also knew Greg had rowed on water.

I had started at a really high stroke rate for the first two minutes, maybe 43-44, but I noticed Greg did also. When he settled into a rate of 35, I dropped back to 32-33 for a while. That was what I was trying to make up now.

I decided to do a power 10, the best strokes I had, but Greg ignored that. He was on his own schedule. Normally, we could not see each other's distances, but Neil had arranged for a display of all three machines, so we could see heart rates also. Although, Nancy was doing well, she was not going to have the longest distance. My only hope was to sprint before Greg started and trust that I would outlast his sprint.

The time accelerated now, as did my day-dreaming. I was actually dreaming that we were on Lake Coeur d'Alene, rowing under the bald eagles' nests. I remembered a few of my canoeing trips there. When I looked at the time, almost 28 minutes had gone by. And Greg was still rowing about 32, so I decided to sprint, raising my rate immediately to 45. I thought I could maintain it. After less than 30 seconds, Greg started sprinting. I was still behind, but I could go no faster. With less than 30 seconds to go, I was able to get up to 47, but dropped off a few.

Greg won. I was a relatively close second. Nancy was a respectable third. We were also acutely aware that Greg had won the last three rounds.

 

                                        Time                      Distance                Strokes                  Calculation                   Total

Des                          30.00                    5.11                                . . .                                  . . .                                                 851

Nancy               30.00                    4.93                                . . .                                  . . .                                                 821

Greg                     30.00                    5.20                                . . .                                  . . .                                                 866

 

I told Greg we had to go to the University Inn as Nancy wanted. I had a Mexican salad, Greg a sirloin steak and Nancy a chicken Caesar salad.

 

Round 13. Running (10,000 meters) Saturday

For round Thirteen, we were back at the track in Moscow, now called the Dan O'Brien Track and Field Complex, in the semi-natural amphitheater behind the giant blimp hanger. It was a cool spring day. I would have preferred a summer day, since I was able to endure heat better than most, especially running, since my running season was at its peak in July.

"Call it the 'Kibbie' dome, not the blimp hanger," Jaromil admonished me.

"How about a compromise," I suggested, "the Kibbles sans Bits dome?"

We were all dressed lightly in nylon tops and shorts. I had finally switched to nylon myself. I wore the black of New Zealand. Greg wore white and Nancy wore a sky blue outfit. We carried our warm-up long sleeves with us.

I knew that Nancy had trained with running sprints for her swimming, but I guessed that she could not hold up to distances. Greg was in good shape and more muscular; I suspect he might have been a threat in the sprints or short distances. I felt comfortable with the distance and my strategy, which was to start fast, roll for a mile or so, then go faster, then glide, and for the last two miles, accelerate. I figured that the two sprint parts would confuse my competitors. Actually, these sprints were a result of my running along the old highway and having to sprint by houses with free-roaming dogs.

The three timers were there, with their university watches. We had asked Jaromil to start us. But, first we stretched and warmed up. I jogged a hundred yards and then walked back. I thought about the course: We would start by doing 100 meters on the track, the straight out the back gate and up the hill on the old highway towards Pullman for about 4800 meters, turn around and return, but continue up the hill above the dome and finish at the gymnasium-that was my idea since the last 100 meters was uphill. It was more of a cross-country race, but I could not stand the thought of running in circles for half an hour or more on a track.

Jaromil signaled that we should line up. Hamud was going to bicycle along behind us to make sure no one cheated (or was attacked by dogs), so he went outside the gate and mounted up. When we lined up, Jaromil blew the whistle immediately, the timers clicked their watches, and we started running. Nancy shot out first. Greg and I loped along slowly for the first 20 meters, then lengthened our strides. We had not talked about strategies with each other, so I was not sure if they were working together or had individual strategies. I might have started a little faster than I would have, running alone. I pulled away from Greg; once we were on the hill I started catching up to Nancy.

I was careful not to sprint-it was just the first hill. I paced myself for a while, breathing a little more deeply now and controlling my breathe. I pulled up to Nancy and then in front. As she speeded up, I did also, to make sure I pulled far enough in front to set a good rhythmic pace. I was remembering running with the Kenyans, who seemed to always to maintain the same pace. When we got to the end of the pavement, I accelerated my pace as much as I thought I could keep for the rest of the race. Nancy and Greg had spread out behind me separated each by 150 meters now.

It was a beautiful, sunny day, with a small breeze. I had run this path so many times before, in the day, evening, and sometimes at night. At the last house, there was only one tiny, yapping dog, who could not escape the fence. Now, there were only wheat fields. I picked up the pace again until I felt the stitch in my side, then kept it there. Greg was closing on Nancy, when I turned my head a moment (the road was curving also). Feeling confident, I was thinking about why distance runners were so short and light. At 5'9" I was taller by 3 inches than most and outweighed them by 30 pounds (at 163). Greg was four inches taller and 40 pounds heavier. Nancy at 5'4" was average height for a woman distance runner, but I figured she outweighed the average by 10-15 pounds. From what I could hear of her breathing when I passed her, I did not think she would have much left for a kick at the end.

When Greg got closer to her she accelerated. I think she wanted to catch me about now, but I was in good stride. I was first at the halfway mark and made the loop back to the road. For the first time I could look at my competitors as they approached me. Nancy was 300 meters behind me and 150 ahead of Greg. It looked like she was still pulling away again. I could hear her breathing again as I nodded and passed her. She ignored me, as did Greg. I could not hear his breathing.

Again, I put myself in an imaginary race with the Kenyans. I calculated how much energy I had and picked up the pace again. My lungs were fine, but I could feel a little tension in my calves. Maybe there were too many fast-firing muscles in my legs, as I had heard that sprinters had and distance runners did not, and not enough slow-firing ones. As I reached the pavement again I lengthened my stride to its maximum; it was slightly downhill, now. I knew that I would win. I was running as fast as I ever had, maybe as fast as I could. At the bottom of the hill I sprinted the last 150 meters uphill. When I got near the finish line I aimed myself at a pointed about ten meters past it. I watched Phil with the stop watch to make sure he clicked it off. Then walked over to the edge of the arboretum and walked around, looking back to see if Nancy had reached the bottom of the hill; she had not, but I saw her come over the rise then, and Greg had not come into sight.

I walked around until they both had finished and had cooled down, Nancy had collapsed and was breathing raggedly. Greg came over and punched my arm, but did not speak. When I asked Nancy if she was okay, she managed to say, "next time, rollerblades," and smile. I felt good. I went over to the timers and watched them write down our times. My time was 33 minutes 11 seconds, not a world record by a long shot, but a very good time for off-track, on uneven terrain and various surfaces. Nancy clocked in at 36:35 and Greg at 38:06.

Jaromil was describing how the points would be calculated, "Assigning 1000 points to the current world record ... then we simply take a percentage and multiply for each of you ..."

 

                                            Time                                              Calculation                       Total

Nancy                   36:35.57                                . . .                                                     761

Des                              33:11.04                                . . .                                                     836

Greg                         38:06.93                                . . .                                                     727

 

We agreed to have showers and go to dinner at the pizza place. Jaromil offered to drive in his giant Ford van.

 

Round Fourteen. Shooting Sunday

I shut out the environment, with its constant chatter and choruses of insistent identities. I was able to get my breathing under control, then my vision, and finally my heartbeats. In a pause between beats, I squeezed the trigger. I heard the "plup" through my ear protectors; I saw the bullet travel to the target through my tinted goggles. I saw the hole appear in the "10" circle. That marked the end of the second round and twenty shots. I put the pistol down on the shooter's table. I went over to the telescope. Jaromil was marking my score and motioned to it. I looked through. The last bullet had touched the line of the "9" ring, not as I thought I saw. I shrugged. My envisioning perfect shots had not made them so. I went and sat down for a moment on the bench with Nancy and Greg.

"You guys don't have to wait, you know," I commented.

Nancy replied. "We all seem to be well under the two-hour limit, and, well, I was hoping you would get nervous and miss."

Tina waved to me; she had been watching. Then she left. This was alright because I knew it was not as exciting as ping-pong.

Greg just held up his hand. He had finished first, with a score of 487. This was a free pistol contest from 50 meters. Like all shooting events, the aim was to place as many bullets as possible as close to the center of the target as possible. Jaromil was the referee and spotter. Using the 5.6 millimeter pistol, each competitor had six rounds of ten shots under a two hour limit-the longest pause between shots was fifteen minutes. The maximum score was 600 points, but the total score was to be multiplied by 1.65 (plus ten to the winner) to normalize it to 1000.

I daydreamed for a moment about shooting bullets straight up in the air and seeing how close they landed to me, sometime later. I wondered. Then I had to stop, I placed my hands in front of me and made a finger tent. And relaxed.

After five minutes I moved back to the table. Put on the goggles and ear protectors. I wiped the grip. I loaded a bullet into the gun. I extended my arm and kept the arm at a 45-degree angle. Then I raised it and sighted through the sight. My shoulders were square to the target, but my legs slightly apart, left one forward. At the perfect center of quietness, the trigger squeezed. I did that nine more times. Then it was time to rest again.

This time I did not sit immediately, but did a few push-ups and sit-ups. Shooting tended to stress the muscles in odd ways, with the same movements over and over. I just needed the muscles to do something different for a few minutes.

Each series got slightly better. Most of my shots now were in the "9" or "10" circle. After the fifth round my wrist was tired; my fingers did not seem to fit the buttstock correctly any more. I was eager to get the last round out of the way, but I knew that I had to be patient. Nancy and Greg were sitting a little to my left talking softly. I knew Greg's wife, Lacy, was as inauthentic as Tina. I wondered what they talked about. I suspected she did most of the talking, since Greg was a good listener. Where did that come from?

Before the last round, I unbuttoned the top button of my shirt and tightened the laces of my running shoes. I prepared at the table. My first shot was high, a "7", still in the black, but my worst shot so far. I looked at the clock for the first time. I still had a full hour. I changed hands and sighted with my right arm. I put the gun down and wiped the handle again. I decided not to change now. I inspected the floor for dirt. I inspected the table for grains of powder.

I raised my arm, sighted, and shot. It was a good shot. The last of the series were mostly "10"s, so I was pleased. My total score was 571.

Nancy stood right away, and tucked in her vest; she was wearing grey trousers and a white blouse. I looked at Greg in his jeans and plaid cotton top. I looked at my jeans and my black shirt-the one with front pockets and cigarette pockets in the arms. We all were wearing low running shoes, although Nancy's looked subtlety like track shoes.

I watched Nancy closely. Unlike Greg or me, she had no wasted movements. Every movement seemed precisely programmed, even those that I was sure were superstitious behaviors, as when she pulled her sleeve before raising her shooting arm. Her first shots were "8"s or "9"s and as they seemed to continue, I grew more confident I would win. I moved over and started talking to Greg. We talked about the competition and how it was going. We talked about what sports we might have chosen, and what sports might be fun to try, such as sky-diving or the biathlon. When Nancy sat down, we were quiet.

When I started watching her again, I saw that her concentration was paying off. She was over 500 already. I started watching her carefully. She was shooting like clockwork, one shot every 90 seconds, including time to load. And, I was watching when her last shot holed a "9", making her score more points over mine. Her 579 gave her the win.

 

                                                         Score                                                   Adjustment                             Total                                         

Nancy                                579                                                         x1.65+10                                    965

Greg                                       487                                                         x1.65                                                  804

Des                                           571                                                         x1.65                                                  942

 

She treated us at the Seasons Restaurant in Pullman. I had chosen shooting because I was so good at it. I never guessed that I would lose. I had a small glass of Vouvray and toasted her win. I could tell that she expected to win tomorrow.

Round Fifteen. Swimming (100 meters butterfly) Monday

"In the 100-meter butterfly competition, where the swimmer moves like a dolphin, using her body to push herself through the water, there are three turns. And, Des, tumble turns are not permitted," Michelle said.

I was thinking that the stroke was the most tiring, but also the most dramatic. It was almost as fast as the freestyle or crawl. In fact Johnny Weissmuller had been lucky to survive his first encounter with it while he was racing in freestyle, which used to mean you could use any stroke you wanted, although virtually no one uses anything but the Australian crawl now.

We were able to secure the Idaho swimming pool for the afternoon for an hour. That was a class time, but the instructor was going over the videos that day. In addition to the three timers, Jaromil, Phil, and Hamud, we decided to ask the women's swim coach, Michelle, if she would videotape the match. She agreed to do more than that. She wanted to have her assistant videotape the race from underwater, through one of the portholes.

The pool was a 25-meter pool, with eight lanes. We chose lanes 4-5-6 to swim in. Nancy won the draw and chose 5 as her lane. Greg took 4 and I took 6. We agreed to a 5-minute warm-up before the race. Nancy started doing kicking exercises with a kickboard. I dove in and just moved with a very slow crawl, playing between the flutter kick and a dolphin kick just to warm up-and because it was fun. Then I did a few cork-screws, switching between freestyle and backstroke with every other stroke. Greg treaded water for a while, then floated and did a little breast-stroking.

We were called to the start position. We got out of the pool and in back of the blocks. Gil was the starter. The other three were timers. I had reviewed this race so many times. I knew exactly what I needed to do to beat Nancy. As we assumed the start position I noticed she kept her right leg slightly behind. Then I heard the gun. I took off as far as I could reach to the end of the pool; as I entered the water I started the dolphin kick. I stayed under and kicked as long as I could. Then I threw my arms and hands forward and followed them. Without breathing the first few strokes, my body undulated in a perfect wave, pressing with my legs as my arms plunged back into the water. The next time I came up I breathed to the side. I saw Nancy go up just before me, so she had taken an extra stroke, and perhaps she would get tired sooner, although probably not at this distance. When I came up again I angled just towards the outside lane, in case our hands might touch. I had figured she might go out fast, so I pulled back a beat. But she was still across from me.

We turned at the same time, but again I stayed under water a little longer. I ignored her for a moment to concentrate on pushing water with my arms before bringing them overhead. I started breathing on every stroke, alternating sides to keep an eye on her or on Greg who was falling back now.

After the second turn I decided I had to sprint for everything if I was going to win. I increased the stroke count, still pulling and kicking deeply. I felt good; I was fluent with water. I was sweeping forward tremendously, but, I could not open a lead. I pushed so hard I felt like I was flying out of the water, but she was matching me at every stroke. At the final turn, I was tired. I ignored it. How long could the final sprint be? 12 seconds? Halfway; our fingertips touched once, then again. I stopped breathing now and kept my head down for streamlining. She was still matching me smoothly. As I neared the wall, I extended every finger and jerked my head up a few milliseconds before I touched, hoping to key the judge early.

I could not tell who won. I think neither could Nancy. Greg came in 5 seconds later. I splashed at Nancy, who made a farting sound under water. I rested on the edge and watched the timers confer.

We had tied again. This was unbelievable, Unfair. Unscientific. I could not even imagine a tie, even if we tried. The judges were asking us if we wanted to have them rerun the race or declare a victor by some combination of size, sex, age, or coin toss. We both agreed to leave it a tie. I wondered if we had had an electronic sensor plate at the end of the pool if we would have tied. The next time I knew that I would have to choose the mile swim. I needed to have the distance to pull ahead.

                                                Time                                      Calculation                                              Total

Des                                  58.34                                   52.27/58.34x1000                    896

Nancy                       58.34                                   x                                                                                  896

Greg                             1:06.33                             x                                                                                  788

 

Greg offered to treat to dinner; he chose the new Eric's whataburger Cafe. My only consolation was that Nancy kept shaking her head. We had broken the women's world record-at least the one eight or nine years earlier, although we were far off the current men's (and I was thinking that I still had not beaten Mark Spitz's time, either the world record or his 1991 comeback time, but then I am older than he is). Nancy was doing the calculations herself, using Denis Pankratov's recent Olympic and World record. Greg suggested that we take the next day off, but I begged to keep going. I was afraid I would have trouble with my schedule.

 

Round Sixteen. Table Tennis Tuesday

"Please note, Nancy, this game was not invented by the French," I said, "but by the Brits. It is the smallest game surface used, although the floor area is 14 by 7 meters marked by short blue panels." I paused. A few people had wandered in and sat on the bleachers to one side; I nodded to Tina, who was wearing a long brown cotton skirt and light blue peasant blouse.

Greg and I had never played this game. Neither had Nancy or I. Greg had chosen the sport, so I suspected he was good. Nancy seemed very comfortable with the choice and very confident. When we were warming up, I noticed she used the penholder grip while Greg and I used the orthodox grip.

Greg was inspecting the table, something I had not thought to do. It looked regulation blue, and the net looked tight. We would be playing three 21-point matches, quite similar to racquetball.

Neil was explaining the rules, "After a ball bounces off her side, a player must hit it to the opponent's side of the table. If the opponent cannot return the ball, or plays it after the second bounce a point is won. As you know, the entire top is part of the playing surface, but not the side of the table or the legs. Each player serves five times in a row and then the serve changes. Now, we have this real neat paper scoreboard," He pointed to the scoreboard on the desk of Jaromil, the assistant umpire. "I, as umpire, will be at my desk on the other side, and I will also announce points and call out of bounds balls. Now, I want to inspect your pimples before we start," he smiled.

I held my paddle in front of my face so he could see that it had long pimples. Neil looked at our blades to make sure they were mostly wood and that the covering was legal.

"Des and Greg, you are up first," he said and then took his seat, lining up three yellow celluloid balls on the table.

Greg served a simple straightforward shot and I returned it directly. We bounced it back and forth three times getting the feel of each other's small turns on the ball. Greg snapped a fast one to me and I backed up and returned it. That let him hit another fast one that I returned high. It hit the table but as it began its bounce he slammed it at a steep angle and I could not reach it.

His next serve was sharply undercut, but I had no problem and sent back a fast response, that he could not react fast enough to get. Greg keep serving with the wicked undercut and I had a few problems returning it. I found that if I keep returning fast and straight I could catch him sometimes. Nevertheless he won the first game without my getting too close.

Now that I had lost, I could relax. I started the serve. I used the same severe undercut that Greg had; the ball hit the far end of the table and almost rolled forward. He missed. For the next serve, I used a straight shot, which he hit high; as the ball landed close to me it hit the edge of the table and bounced out and down. I got under it, but my return made an arch like a returning space capsule. Greg slammed at across and I touched it before it went towards the bleachers. I kept ahead of him for the rest and won a close game.

For the third game, we both came out fighting. After his serve, I hit a hard one that he backed up to return. I backed up also and soon we were sending the ball an extra ten feet with each return. I had seen a demonstration game like this once, where the players seemed to be playing tennis, although the table made a much smaller court, and I enjoyed playing this way, although it required more control. I won the point with a net ball that dropped on his side. We fought on. Whenever I got ahead, he would come back and get ahead by a point. When I had 19, he went to 20. It was his serve again. He tried an overhand serve, but I returned it straight and fast. We volleyed a few times, then I hit a fast one that tipped the edge and went down. We were tied at 20. Then tied at 21. I served a high bouncer that he had trouble controlling, then I touched it home sideways and he could not reach around the table quickly enough. He served a straight ball and I returned it quickly and straight. His return missed the table by an inch (or two and a half centimeters, since we were thinking internationally). I had won a squeaker.

We rested for ten minutes. I drank some water. Greg went over and sat next to Lacy. I bounced a ball with the paddle in my left hand. Neil signaled us to approach the table. Nancy and I saluted each other, then the audience and judge. I hated that we thought so much alike; it was like she was my daughter or something (and I tried not to think about the details of that something).

I served left-handed. Nancy had a propensity for twisting her paddle to maximize the spin. Rather than return it with a spin, I always hit it straight. I figured if we went faster I had the advantage, especially if I kept hitting to her backhand. The penholder grip, which looks upside down to us old fogies, was at a disadvantage with backhands and required a tiring quickness on her part. I kept surprising her with the left-handed play and built up a good lead, that she could not overcome in the first game.

She served with a startling overhand that made the ball jump straight up after it hit. I had to hit it right away before it changed its mind. She pulled ahead by two points. I changed to my right hand for my serves, looking to see if Neil called a foul or rule-he didn't. I used the severe undercut and gained back to a tie. That serve was not hard once you got used to it, but it required a fast response before the ball hit the second time. We volleyed for a while and exchanged points. She was very fast and some of the points seemed instantaneous. I kept with my straight hits for a while and won the second game by three points.

I served straight and we suddenly were each fifteen feet-I mean five meters-from the table, sending the ball from orbit to tablefall like an astronautical computer. My computer did not seem to be as good and she stole a few points from me. So, I moved back in, which was harder at first because my reaction times had to accelerate. Pink, pink, pink, volley, volley, volley.

We were tied at 19. She surprised me with a return to my left-hand side. Without thinking I moved my right hand behind my back and tapped the ball back to her side. She was standing, looking at the ball when it became my point. She looked at Neil who shrugged, 'no broken rules.' It was my serve and she came back hard. I lofted it higher than I meant and she slammed it straight at my throat. Her point, and it was tied again. We fought like banshees over the next point, in and out, up and down, around the table, almost under the table, but then she dropped a light one that hit the net and died on my side. I sighed. I tried too hard on the next serve and missed the table. She had won the last game.

We got another ten minute rest. I sat over on the bleachers in front of Tina, who started ruffling my hair. Neil gave the signal to Greg and Nancy, who approached the table. I was ahead so far, but if Greg or Nancy won all three, then they would win.

Nancy served with her top spin. Greg knew better than to try to answer with an undercut. His serves, however, were even more wicked. She answered and had a slight lead. I noticed a pattern: That whoever had played last had momentum into the first game. Nancy almost lost that momentum but eked out a tie-breaker. Tina was still rubbing my head, which was a mistake-I always fell asleep when she did that and I missed the second game. Greg had apparently relaxed too much and Nancy won it too.

Now, it was really exciting. Greg was serving and had just won two points with his serve before Nancy could figure it out. I noticed another pattern with them: When they moved away from the table Nancy would score better; when they were close Greg would score better. There were some odd configurations where Nancy would be three meters from the table and Greg would be hunched over his end. After Greg scored a few with soft bounces Nancy had to stay closer. So, she tried soft touches and won some points that way. It was 20-19 and Nancy was ahead. Greg tied it with a slam, but Nancy went ahead again after some curly volleys, Greg tied it again. He motioned to Neil and stepped back from the table for a 30-second breather. Greg controlled the next two points like a Ninja master, simply and effectively. He won the final game.

Neil called Jam over and they tallied up the scores. The rest of us toweled off and started talking, discussing the best shots.

 

Name                          Game 1                Game 2                Game 3                Subtotal                     Total

Greg                            21                                  19                                 21                                 61+10                            143x5=715

Des                                17                                  21                                 23                                 61+20                           

                                                                                                                                                                                                                              

Des                                21                                  21                                 20                                 62+20                            163x5=815

Nancy                     15                                  18                                 22                                 55+10                           

                                                                                                                                                                                                                              

Nancy                     23                                  21                                 21                                 65+20                            160x5=800

Greg                            21                                  18                                 23                                 62+10                           

 

I hugged Greg, decided against hugging Nancy and held out my hand, which she shook formally, as I made a slight bow. I suggested that we eat at the Moscow Hotel, which had good sandwiches and salads, and desserts, at least the cookies and cookie bars. We autopsied the game. I think we were all surprised, not only by the result, but by how good all three of us were. I wondered what the difference would have been had we gone to five games each. I prayed that I would do as well at tennis.

 

Round Seventeen. Tennis Wednesday

Of all our sports to have a big audience, it had to be tennis. I counted 30 people in the stands and I suspected that most of them were Nancy's friends. Tina did not make it, but Greg's wife Lacy had shown up with their daughters

Jaromil was in his element, also, announcing the contest with a celebrity flair and announcer's confident baritone voice, "Tennis is a game played on a rectangular court by two players (singles). The players stand on opposite sides of a net and use a stringed racket to hit a ball back and forth to each other. Each player has only one bounce after it has been hit by their opponent to return the ball over the net, within the boundaries of the court. Should a player fail to do any of these three things, her opponent wins a point," and he swept his arm to include Nancy, warming up with a girlfriend, Gina. Greg and I had already warmed up and were sprawled in front of the bleachers.

"The aim," Jaromil was explaining, "is to win enough points to win a game and enough games to win a set and enough sets to win the match. This match, as part of this first-ever, international contest-"

"International?" Greg stage-whispered to me.

"Yea, Nancy was born in Ontario, eh?" I answered.

"-will be a full three sets, rather than a best of three or best of five sets. The winner of a set, of course, is the first person to win six games," Jaromil paused and lowered his voice.

I noticed that almost everyone was young and female, maybe students or staff. Our referee and judges were all male, except for Marilyn, the women's tennis coach at Wazoo, who was umpire.

"Because this two-player game is a singles match, players will use the narrower singles court," Jaromil was expanding in his low, public, intimate voice, "The game is officially called lawn tennis to distinguish it from court tennis (also known as royal tennis), an older form of the game that is played indoors on a very different kind of a court. Tennis is played on a 23.7 m x 8.2 meter (78 ft x 27 ft) court, which is divided in the middle by a net, such as that each side measures 11.9 meters (39 ft) in length. The player who plays the ball first is the server and the person who returns it is the receiver. The players will swap serve every game and change ends of the court every other game. The right to be server or receiver or the choice of court end is decided by tossing a coin. I have the coin here, a silver dollar. I am now tossing it. Nancy, please call it."

Nancy said "Heads."

And Jaromil answered, "Heads it is. Please choose one of the four following options-"

"Service," Nancy picked immediately.

"Very well," Jaromil sighed, frustrated that he did not have a chance to explain the options. "And, Des, which end of the court do you choose?"

I had already looked to see where the sun was. The court was laid on a north-south axis, and the sky was slightly overcast anyway, so I opened my hand to the south end.

"Very well," Jaromil acknowledged. "Are the umpire, Referee, Score-keeper, ready? Well, let the match begin." Jaromil did not need a microphone or any kind of amplification. He had good lungs. And he was frustrated by not being able to participate in this. I think he had actually approached the athletic department to see if they would sanction it. I was thinking of asking at my Alma mater, Oregon.

Nancy went to the north end. And, we started.

Her first serve was good and strong. In fact, I missed it.

The umpire called "15-love."

Tennis has an unusual scoring system. I remembered asking Hamud why we didn't revise it, like we did for boxing. He had said that we better leave tradition alone on this one; besides, the number of points was fair enough, it was just a silly uneven way of announcing them. 'Love' for instance, is said to come from the French word 'oeuf,' which means egg and is shaped like a zero.

-and suddenly it was 30-love, according to the umpire. I had missed another serve. I put the memories away and assigned control to the muscles and eyes.

I moved a little more to the center, Her next serve came slightly to center and I was able to hit it with a forehand. She returned it to the other side and I hit a nice backhand right back. When her return arrived, I slammed a fast low ball to her far corner, but it hit the net, and I watched it fall onto my side, and I heard the umpire say "40-love." I thought that it should be '45-love' to have any kind of mathematical consistency.

Her next serve, I returned to the opposite corner and she barely caught it. It landed again outside the lines and it was 40-15.

The next point was a hard contest. My return was weak and she slammed it cross court. I got to it and lobbed it back. She could not kill it, and I lobbed it back again. She rushed the net after her return and I lobbed it in back of her. It was high and she hit a smooth ball that I could not reach. The first game was hers.

I noticed that Nancy had been using a two-hand grip on forehands and backhands, ala Monica Seles (I had been reading up on tennis before I started practicing seriously). That gave her more power. I started to think that she might be susceptible to slice shots, if I could manage them.

It was my serve. The serve was my weakest action. I thought that I should have practiced it more. So, she returned my first serve. On my forehand reply, I angled my racquet to slice the ball with an underspin. She had no trouble with that. Since she played to my backhand, I sliced that with an underspin, Ken-Rosewall-style. That made no difference, either. Then she caught me with a dribble over the net and it was love-15.

I tried real power on the next serve. I heard Greg say, "Easily, 50 miles-per-hour, ladies and gentleman." It was funny, but I was sure it was 75 mph at least. Nancy returned to my backhand, and I hit it really strong with a topspin, which she could not reach. It was 15-15.

On the next serve I just made sure it was strong and accurate. Her return was too long and it was 30-15. To my serve, she responded with a drive to my backhand, which I again put a hard overspin on. And again, it got away from her.

I noticed that she stopped playing to my backhand when she could. We exchanged a series of long balls from the ends of the court. I tried rushing the net, but hit the ball too long. It was 30-30.

We exchanged points, and it was 40-40, deuce. This was the exception to the point count. The winner had to win two points in a row, now. She returned my serve to a backhand that I could not reach.

Then suddenly, with another fast low return, she had broken my serve. The air that normally went to my brain, I had to divert to the leg muscles. She won the second game while the brain was on cruise-control, although I did better. I knew the third game was going to be mine, statistically, anyway. So, I served hard and built up a lead. Then I was ahead 5-4, but I could not put it away. She tied it and wore me down psychologically and physically before winning.

We had a ten-minute rest. I needed the momentum to beat Greg, but I didn't have it. Greg and I had played handball, racquetball, baseball, basketball, and every other kind of ball, but not tennis. I knew he was stronger and I would have to watch his serve. But, I figured that I could beat him on the volleys, with finesse and placement. I was partly right, but I lost the first game on his serves, either a vicious top-spin or a vicious slice, or a vicious flat.

For the second game I tried hard flat serves, driving my fastest ones of the day. I won the second game in a reverse of the first.

When Greg scored with an overhand smash in the third game, I responded to his backhand, which seemed weaker. And, I kept responding as he missed. Then he caught me with a drop shot and fast serves. I stormed back and we tied at 4 each. Unfortunately for me it was his serve now. He won and broke my serve to win the game.

After a ten-minute break, Nancy and Greg played. Nancy confused him with lobs and took the first set 6-4. Greg played back with stronger serves and wore her down for the second set, 8-6.

Nancy needed treatment to her thighs after the second set.

During the third, she was able to return his serves with slices. When he got a chance at an overhead smash, he usually got the point. Nancy overcame her tiredness to win on her second match point. He had his first in the final set on the other's serve, but hit a return long. Nancy then broke back for 3-3 and the next few games went with serve. Greg had two match points on Nancy's serve, but missed a chipped backhand return on one, and mis-hit a forehand chip on the other, allowing Nancy to hit a winning forehand. In the next game Nancy broke Greg, and then served out the victory.

"This is a strange way to score this," Marilyn said. "There are some things to note. For instance, in real life, the third game between Des and Nancy would not have been played at all, since she won the first two. Also, look at the first game between Greg and Des. Greg won the game, but Des had more points. I understand how that is possible, but it means that one could win on points, under some circumstance, even if one lost on games. That would be weird."

No," Jaromil said, "because we give the winner ten points extra per win. Look at column 8."

"Seriously, I would multiply the points differently, such as add up her points, 38 and multiply by 25 = 950. (For Des 625 and Greg 825)," she said scribbling like mad on her notepad.

"Why on earth did you pick tennis?" I asked Greg.

He replied with a shrug, "It was something we had never played. It was fun."

 

Player                     G1 G 2 G 3               T 1 T 2 T 3                      Grand Total                           

Nancy                   6                           6 7                   31                   35                   40                   106+20 =927.5

Des                              2                           4 5                   27                   33                   36                   96+10     =742

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                       

Des                              4                           6 4                   34                   29                   32                   95+10+                                          

Greg                          6                           4 6                   32                   35                   34                   101+20 =829.5

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                       

Greg                          4                           8 5                   31                   43                   33                   106+10

Nancy                   6                           6 7                   35                   44                   40                   119+20

 

And so it went on like this, as the spectators crowded around Nancy and congratulated her. When we were all ready Nancy took us out to dinner at Alex's Mexican restaurant downtown. I had two mudslides.

 

Round 18. Weight-lifting Thursday

I was not happy. Neither was Nancy. We both knew that Greg would very likely, most probably, win this round. Our only concern was to get as many points as possible. Weightlifting had a kind of primitive purity about it. It is a pure test of muscle and bone against iron and gravity.

"Or between will power and doubt," Nancy added.

"Was I talking out loud?" I asked.

"Yes, mumbling audibly. What's your problem. I thought you were really strong?"

"No, my arms are not big enough," I sighed.

"Boo hoo, want me to help? Never mind. I thought you were the thin graceful type. Good thing he didn't choose arm-wrestling! Wait a minute-you don't lift with your arms, anyway; it's all back and legs."

"Sshhhh! Don't let Greg hear." I said. She was right.

Our situation was somewhat certain and awkward. I had a big lead overall. Nancy and Greg were close overall.

 

With a whirl of his wrist, Hamud got our attention, "Weightlifting as a sport has been part of the Olympic movement since the first modern Olympic Games in Athens. For our weightlifting competitions there will be two different types of lifts, the Snatch and the Clean & Jerk. Because you have different levels of training, more or less sophisticated techniques, and because you are in different weight classes, we will use a multiplier for the final score. Although commonly seen simply as a test of strength, Weightlifting is a sport which develops many other physical and psychological attributes in its participants, from coordination to confidence."

I was looking at the weights. They were the same that we had been using in the weight room.

"As you know, the order is alphabetical. You get three attempts at each of the two lifts. You have one minute after your name is called to start your lift. After your lift we will have three minutes to set up the loading for the next lift. I am the referee. Jaromil and Neil are the timer and scorer. Gil will be the loader. As you see, we do not have the big time competition scoreboard, lights, or a jury," and he waved at the room.

Greg was first to the platform. His barbells were already set up, a steel bar 2.2 meters long and 28 millimeters in diameter. Greg had started at 90 kilograms (198 pounds). He was wearing a red costume, with the knees and elbows traditionally uncovered. Although he was thick in the shoulders and chest, he did not have the massive thighs and stomach of a weight-lifter. I had seen him lift more on the bench. He adjusted his support belt. Then crouched and spread his arms apart. Inhaled and exhaled. Applied maximum strength to begin the upward movement of the weight. He pulled upward, the "clean," and moved his body under the bar with his arms straight, all in one movement, then locked his arm joints and extended his legs for the final push. He held it for the required seconds.

Hamud signaled a clean lift, no knee-touch or drop.

Greg dropped the bar.

Now it was Nancy's turn. Gil brought out the woman's bar, which was slightly smaller and already set up with the first weights. She started at 40 kilograms. The trainer had put on her wrist and knee bandages. Her costume was gold. Although she filled it nicely, she did not look like a weightlifter, either.

She assumed the starting position, bent knees and straight arms. After controlling her breath, she lifted upwards and got under the weight quickly, so it was above her head and her arms were straight and locked. She rose up, hesitating only for as moment. It was a good lift.

I was telling Greg, "We should have one of those strong-man competitions, too, where they have to twirl a bus or push a tractor up a cliff."

Yea," Greg said wistfully, "my favorite event is the crush your own skull with your hands competition. I haven't seen that recently."

"They moved it to the last event, to make sure the competition lasted longer. Ah, my turn."

Now, it was my turn. I had decided to start at 80 kilograms. When my name was called I went over, settled in, grabbed the weight and lifted. It was a good lift. My heart, however, was beating too rapidly.

We did two more snatches each.

Greg failed at 136. I failed at 132.5; each increment had to be at least 2.5 kg.

Then after a fifteen minute break, it was time for the clean and jerk portion. Greg went first again, at 130 kilograms. The C&J was slightly easier, although the muscular actions are almost the same, the back and thigh muscles doing the work. The arms were placed closer together. Greg lifted, then got under it easily, straightened his body, then straight-armed the weight, locked his shoulders and brought his feet together.

Nancy also took an easy weight, for her, at 45 kilos. She made it easily.

For my first C&J, I had decided 120 kilos. It was far less than double my weight, so I was sure I could do it, and I did.

Later, when I tried to go to 132.5 I just could not lift it.

We were done. It was over. Hamud was explaining: "First add the total weight. Then triple it. Then multiply the total weight by the percentage of body weight to equalize over weight and divide by half. Add the two columns to get the final number. Greg wins."

Our weight totals looked like this.

 

Name           Born Wei S 1 S 2 S 3 C&J1             C&J2            C&J3            Total

Greg             1970 92.3 90         90 92.5 130         132.5            136     949.5

Nan               1978 54.5 40         42.5 45 45          45                   47.5                592.0

Des                  1946 74.1 80         82.5 85   120        130                  132.5            942.4

 

There was something funny about the scores; they seemed to high, since we had not come close to any world records. Hamud said he would revise the calculation at home, after reintroducing himself to his family.

Gads, my body hurt. I was afraid to ask anyone else if they hurt as much. Nancy suggested that we skip dinner tonight and meet tomorrow night and go over the scores; spouses and significant others should be invited. I agreed. I offered to pay, but Greg said it was his turn. There was a restaurant in Potlatch that I wanted to try-Tina's parents had recommended it. Greg suggested the new Mexican restaurant in Moscow, the one that replaced the Nobby Inn, as it would be less driving. We agreed to meet there at 4:00 p.m. I went home to sit in a hot bath. Tina offered to let me wash her back-she never refused a bath, even when she was not dirty or tired. I think I fell asleep.

 

Round Nineteen Counting Friday

The restaurant was quiet. Sombreros were hung along the walls. Nancy reminded me that it did not replace the Nobby. It was where the Biscuitroot used to be, which was part of the old dime store that closed in the early 1970s—at least I think that was it. Greg and Lacy ordered Bloody Marys, Nancy and her boyfriend Mars got Tequilas. Tina got a Bloody Mary and I had some coconut/rum drink. As we were guzzling, Greg listed the final scores:

1. Archery (25 arrows, 10 targets), Nancy's chosen, Des wins

2. Bicycling (10,000 meters), Nancy's choice, Des wins

3. Billiards (three games) Nancy's choice, Greg wins

4. Bowling (three games), Nancy's choice, Nancy wins

5. Boxing (6 minutes or 2 rounds), Greg's choice, Des wins

6. Diving (11 dives), Des's choice, Des wins

7. Fencing (best of three matches), Des's choice, Des wins

8. Golf (36 holes) Nancy's choice, Nancy wins

9. Gymnastics (floor exercise), Des's choice, Des wins

10. Judo (6 minutes), Greg's choice, Greg wins

11. Racquetball (3 games to 21 each) Greg's choice, Greg wins

12. Rowing 1-person (3 mile course) Greg's choice, Greg wins

13. Running (5000 meters) Des's choice, Des wins

14. Shooting (25 shots, 10 targets) Des's Choice, Nancy wins

15. Swimming (100 m butterfly) Des's choice, Des-Nancy tie

16. Table tennis, Nancy's Choice, Des wins

17. Tennis (three games) Greg's choice, Nancy wins

18. Weight-lifting (6 lifts) Greg's choice, Greg wins

 

Jaromil had put it in a table. He was saying, "Had I participated, I would have easily walked off with the weight-lifting and basketball. Look at this table, though."

Sport/Name                Des                                                           Greg                                           Nancy

Archery                               812                                                           720                                               778

Bicycling                           891                                                           857                                               885

Billiards                              605                                                           756                                               644

Bowling                               691                                                           758                                               831

Boxing                                    815                                                           725                                               445

Diving                                    858                                                           479                                               563

Fencing                                977                                                           755                                               589

Golf                                             520                                                           680                                               900

Gymnastics                 890                                                           710                                               750

Judo                                             790                                                           900                                               500

Racquetball                 884                                                           920                                               794

Rowing                                 851                                                           866                                               821

Running                             836                                                           727                                               761

Shooting                            942                                                           804                                               965

Swimming                     896                                                           788                                               896

Table Tennis              815                                                           715                                               800

Tennis                                     742                                                           830                                               928

Weight-lifting        942                                                           950                                               592

                                                              14,757                                                13,940                                    13,442

 

Jaromil then presented the results in a different way, with points (10-7-5-3) for placements. Des 8 wins, 1 tie; Greg 5 wins; Nancy 4 wins 1 tie (but with Nancy having a higher score than Greg overall).

 

Sport/Name                 Des                                       Greg                                      Nancy

Archery                                10                                            5                                                   7

Bicycling                            10                                            5                                                   7

Billiards                               5                                                10                                              7

Bowling                                5                                                7                                                   10

Boxing                                     10                                            7                                                   5

Diving                                     10                                            5                                                   7

Fencing                                 10                                            7                                                   5

Golf                                              5                                                7                                                   10

Gymnastics                  10                                            5                                                   7

Judo                                              7                                                10                                              5

Racquetball                  7                                                10                                              5

Rowing                                  7                                                10                                              5

Running                              10                                            5                                                   7

Shooting                             7                                                5                                                   10

Swimming                      9                                                6                                                   9

Table Tennis               10                                            5                                                   7

Tennis                                      5                                                7                                                   10

Weight-lifting         7                                                10                                              5

                                                               144                                       126                                          128

He had forgotten to present it as a dodecathlon, twelve events between two of us! I kept my mouth shut. We discussed the strange disparities between billiards, which had the lowest winning score and fencing, which had the highest. I pointed out that the discrepancies were unavoidable, since we were matching perfect hits against world records, which were rarely perfect and could always be improved.

Greg noted that we should test swimming times against dolphin times since they were close to perfect. I noticed that his voice was hoarse, he had dark circles under his eyes, and he looked exhausted after two and a half weeks of competing. Nancy looked a little drawn, but otherwise okay. I hoped I did not look as stretched as I felt.

I was surprised that some of us did so well in sports that others chose. Nancy of course had no way of knowing how many years I had been shooting arrows. Greg had no way of knowing that I had boxed before. I had no way of knowing that Nancy was more patient and controlled at shooting targets than I was. Greg had no way of knowing that Nancy could play tennis so well. Nancy had no way of knowing how many years Greg had "wasted" playing eight-ball. Now, we knew, but next time we might choose different sports. Diversity and fun are the essences of this contest. Then, we started talking about a Hecathlon (100 prizes).