The Winning Stroke Read Free

started?” he asked.
    “Uh huh. We've already won two meets — and lost two,” she said. “But sometimes people drop off for one reason or another.
     And Coach Fulton always knows who's ready to come in as a replacement.”
    With that, she dived into the green depths and began her laps.
    Anxious to get out of there, he got down to the same business himself. In his usual seaside fashion, he swam back and forth,
     paying no attention to anyone or anything. He did a nice, easy crawl that sliced neatly through the water. When he finished,
     he pulled himself up to the edge of the pool. To his surprise, he felt tired all over, and his leg ached. He sat for a moment
     to rest. Tanya swam up to him.
    “Pretty good for a first baseman,” she said cheerfully. He liked the way the freckles around her turned-up nose seemed to
     dance when she smiled.
    Jerry shrugged. “I just hope I'll be back playing ball in a little while,” he said. “I'm only here to make the doctor happy.
     She thinks I need a little more therapy. You know, for my leg.”
    “Right, I remember when you had the accident,” she said. “But this is a pretty nice place to be if you can't play ball. Ever
     seen a race?”
    “Sure,” he said.
    “In person?” Tanya asked. “You know, not on TV like the Olympics.”
    Jerry hesitated. “Not really,” he admitted.
    “Well, then, why don't you stick around for a little while and watch a few,” she suggested. “Lars Morrison is going against
     Wayne Cabot in the hundred-yard breaststroke. They were the top two swimmers in that stroke last year, but they kept trading
     places for the number one spot. Coach Fulton wants to see who's the stronger this year.”
    As she spoke, Jerry could see two swimmers vigorously ploughing their way through the water at opposite sides of the pool.
    “It'll only take a few minutes,” she said.
    Jerry hesitated. “I don't know, I feel kind of dumb sitting around in a wet bathing suit.” He hated to admit that all he could
     think about right now was getting home to a hot shower and a comfortable chair to relax in.
    Tanya shook her head. “Maybe some other time, then.” She turned and took off like a shot, doing more laps.
    Jerry sat for a minute longer, then slowly stood up.He limped to the locker room to collect his things. He'd just pulled on his sweatshirt when he realized he'd left his towel
     in the bleachers.
    Jerry was amazed at the change of atmosphere in the pool area. Before, all the swimmers had been in the pool, doing leisurely
     warm-up laps and joking around with one another. Now, only six swimmers, one per lane, were in the water. Each was swimming
     the crawl as if his life depended on it. The pool water sloshed over the sides from the waves they made as they raced from
     one end of their lanes to the other.
    Shouts of encouragement rang off the tiles. Jerry heard Bob Fulton's voice boom out over the others. But he was too busy watching
     the lead swimmer to hear what the coach had said.
    The front-runner was one arm's length away from the lane's end. Jerry expected him to slow down and turn in the water. But
     instead, in a movement too quick for Jerry to see clearly, the swimmer's hand brushed the pool wall and his head disappeared
     beneath the water. His feet broke through the surface for a split second. Then, suddenly, his head reappeared five feet from
     the wall — pointed in the opposite direction.
    One after another, the other swimmers performed the same swift turn. Jerry's eye was too slow to figure out how they reversed
     direction. It seemed they were doing a somersault of some sort.
    What a crazy sport, Jerry thought. Then the race came to an end, the lead swimmer winning easily.
    He could see Coach Fulton talking to the guys who would be racing next. Since they were all wearing the same practice suits,
     they looked an awful lot alike. But gradually he could see differences. Lars Morrison, with deep auburn hair, had wide shoulders
     and