Well Played Mate

84.

I circle the deck watching the team react to the sudden call to action. Saunders and Drysdale have already established commanding leads at the end of the third lap. Davis, Calahan and Bromden are all swimming with various degrees of proficiency. Satriano appears to be struggling, already gasping for air and wildly inefficient. I consider the current situation and its solution as I yell encouragement to her. Davis, her partner, hears my call and stops to locate her in the water and crosses two lanes to perform an aquatic damage assessment. I can hear his attempt at motivation as he advises her to relax, breathe deep and try to stay on his feet. He allows her two deep breath sequences as he looks at his watch. Knowing his history I have a very good idea of the tactic he is considering to accomplish the time requirement of the drill.

As this is playing out I also see that Calahan is beginning to dramatically slow his stroke-count. I watch with interest as he is lapped by Saunders, Drysdale and finally Bromden. I am a bit surprised as Calahan is an excellent swimmer, competent diver and competitive triathlete when scheduling allows. Satriano is now water-drafting off of Davis and they seem to be finding somewhat of a groove as Saunders finishes just ahead of Drysdale, I note their times, both sub-eighteen, and make similar timing notations as Bromden finishes just over twenty minutes. Calahan struggles to a sluggish, for him, twenty-one and change, leaving Davis and Satriano as the last fish in the pond. They have two minutes to finish as their teammates shout encouragement standing on the deck. But even a near sighted non-swimmer could see that Satriano is fading badly, her finish uncertain. With just the return length remaining they are thirty-seconds from the cutoff time. Saunders, Drysdale, Bromden, and Calahan are jumping on the deck screaming encouragement trying to coerce Satriano to kick off the far wall and give everything for just…thirty…more…seconds. 

The drama is deafening. 

Davis, sensing some emergency, stops his pull and turns to see what the issue is. Treading water he looks at his watch and puts a plan into action. He swims back to Satriano, hanging for her life on the wall, turns her around and wraps his huge left arm around her shoulders and pushes off the deck with a grunt. He is going to use the lifeguarding system and tow her the last length of the pool, in twenty-seconds. 

I never expected this exercise to contain so many live, real-time demonstrations of the critical skills we often take for granted, but here, with this grand theatre unfolding as Davis kicks with a powerful and efficient cadence, as their teammates clap and yell their most sincere verbal signals of support, I am moved by the power of the moment. I feel a jolt of electricity as I watch the profound display of athleticism and camaraderie, of valor and grace under fire, of hope and of meaning. Of unity. 

Davis and his partner hit the deck with five-seconds to spare. One might think that they had just won Olympic gold in the team freestyle. Satriano is assisted to the deck where Calahan, the team medic, takes a quick look and provides a positive diagnosis. Davis is out of the water and toweling off. He passes the terry cloth once more over his head and meets my eyes when finished. His gaze is neither asking nor telling, he is not seeking approval nor does he appear to need an explanation. He is completely comfortable with himself and by association, with his decision, his action and its eventual result. I hold his eyes for a beat.

And nod slightly in a silent, congratulatory gesture of approval, the body dialect of, “Well played mate.’