Shark! Shark! And Other Near-Death Experiences
It's Day 3 of the blog and already I'm suffering from writer's block. Maybe I should have remained a blogger without a blog afterall.But Lyndon has um, "encouraged" me to share a tale that has been on my mind ever since he and I and Beau (Jen's husband) reconnected after so many years away from the swim team, of which we were all a part back in our teenage years (not soooo many years ago, really). I wasn't planning to jump into the deep end so soon, but here is the shortened, condensed version of Shark! Shark! Or "Sharks and Minnows," as Beau remembers it.
Let me start out by saying that there were no sharks harmed in the making of this story. Nor were there any live sharks involved, at all. Which is surprising really, because our little swim team lived on the beach (literally, the high school we attended was on the sand) and we did swim in the ocean on occasion, but that's the next story.
Shark! Shark! as I prefer to call it, was a game (past tense...it is no longer a game, it is an adventure that requires parents to sign waivers and disclaimer forms if their child wants to participate) whereby all the swimmers lined up on one wall and one shark positioned himself on the opposite wall. The object was for the shark to capture as many minnows as possible before they reached the other side of the pool. The capture was only valid if the minnow's head was tapped above water (this becomes important). As the shark captured minnows, the minnows were pulled from the game. The last minnow to remain "standing" (swimming) was the winner. Got it?
Being a swim team, there was a bit of competitive spirit involved. And being the oldest members of the team, the four of us (my brother makes 4, and neither did he come to the rescue, I might add...David, if you're reading this, I'll let you know when the amnesty program begins so you can come clean, like Lyndon just did ;-) were also the largest and thus, most likely to survive. And I did. Until the end.
In the end, Beau, who was the shark, grabbed hold of my ankle (because back before the rules were changed as a result of this particular episode, pushing and pulling was allowed) and kept pulling me backwards. I, bearing the nickname "Airtank" (because of my incredible
The next thing I remember was coming to, at the edge of the pool, being held up by my arms, by the coach, and my brother's eyes were staring down at me, big as saucers. I asked if I won. At least that's what I wanted to ask. I'm not sure what I really said, but I was (and still am) disappointed that I lost that game. I hopped out of the pool as if nothing had happened and was quickly ushered out. That was the last game of Shark! Shark! that we played. Oh, we may have played a modified version after that (no touching), but it was never the same.
And that, folks, is what being competitive is all about. Fighting to the death. Yup. But we've all grown up to become reasonably respectable citizens, I think. So it must have served some purpose. I'm sure it gave God a good laugh anyway, but it was a tough lesson in pride and humility.
Labels: Near-Death Experiences
posted by Gwynne @ 8:39 PM
14 Comments:
The swimmers in our high school were always crazy.
I blame the chlorine.
Oh, and there should have been some "sarcasm" indicators around the words "incredible lung capacity." Compared to the 12-year-olds on the team, I just seemed like an airtank to them.
We didn't really have a pool until my last year in high school and there were no boys to compete with anyway!
Wow. Certainly one of those stories you don't forget...at least not the parts you were awake for:-)
I know that game!
That's some will - to stay under until you pass out. I couldn't hold my breath that long even with air all around to save me.
Lyndon used to try and sucker us (me & my sister as well as other cousins) into playing this game when we were visiting G&G's house. Cause that's fair, you know? 7 & 8 year olds vs. senior in HS/college freshman who also happens to be on the swimteam.
To this day, my sister is a little terrified of there being actual sharks in pools (though James Bond movies may be more to blame, not sure).
I'm so glad you have a blog now. :) (And glad that Lyndon broke his self-imposed hiatus to tell the world so I could find you.)
Good story. Pretty much how I remember it too. I just pointed and said, "She's sinking!" And Beau went back under. Coach Stu got in trouble I think. For that, and letting us shower as a team in the girl's locker room (with swim suits on of course!) - do you remember that one? lol
And Beth, I wouldn't have held you under - just blocked your way to the other side. Smaller pool, less risk! lol, lgp
Rachel, we had the opposite problem at out school...no girls on the high school team. I actually had to play water polo on the boys team! The coach felt sorry for me and made me the "captain."
Jennifer, I fully expected Lyn and Beau to come back with different versions of the story because I'm not sure I was awake through the best parts. ;-)
Brian, I'm not sure I successfully made my point...do NOT try this at home! ;-) There is no honor in having that kind of "will."
Beth! Welcome! You are part of the reason I finally decided to dive in (albeit into the shallow end...I've done this in real life also...I have a chipped tooth to show for that). I've enjoyed so many of your posts. I'm glad you found me. ;-) And I'm sure Lyndon never meant to cause you girls any harm, unless of course, you threatened to win. ;-)
Lyndon, see there? You did do your part in the rescue effort. Pointing is important. ;-) I know Coach Stu got in trouble for that one. But I do not remember showering in the girls' locker room with the guys, with or without swimsuits on, really. I plead ignorance.
This is such a great story, Gwynne. It's got humor and adventure and heroism and gratitude and God in it. :-)
Thanks, Jami!
Woah.
I've never lost consciousness (except for sleep) in my life. The very thought of it gives me chills.
And see, you've conquered the first challenge of blogging: when you've got writer's block, write about having writer's block. And if that doesn't work write about passing out underwater. It's written down in some blog advice book somewhere, I'm sure.
Heh. :-)
I don't suppose you'd have a copy of this "blog advice book," would you?
No, my dog ate it.
Hi Beau's Sis! Welcome!!
Yeah, I've always wondered about that. :-\
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