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"There's only three that can go but, I certainly would appreciate you taking them anyway," the Venture leader explained. I smiled pleasantly at him and agreed to get the boys to their Swim Olympics, but privately I wondered why on earth my own 14 year old had chosen to go there instead of with his father on the opening day of fishing season. "There's a trophy for the troop who racks up the most points in this season's athletics, "I remembered him saying as he proudly showed me his second place metal for a volleyball tournament held only two weeks previous. With a mother's instinct I guess I knew there was a secret desire burning in at least one of those boys to place in something--anything--to rack up a few more points for the troop. Well, as a former swimming competitor and coach myself, I was fully aware of the competitive material riding with me in the car. Not one boy even knew what a racing dive was. One didn't know how to tread water although he did have a pretty fair backstroke. None of them were even sure how far they could swim. There was really no possibility any of them could win first place in anything. Oh, how wrong I turned out to be!
As we arrived at the college pool, I began to wonder if we'd made a mistake on the time or the day. The place looked deserted. We left our car with the other three in the parking lot and wandered all around the three story Physical Education building looking for the pool--without seeing one other scout. Arriving at our destination the professional scouters confirmed there "wasn't" anyone else there. It had just about been decided to cancel when a phone call tipped us off that more were on their way. Well, we could wait.
The boys were having a nice free swim anyway. It was a beautiful pool. The starting time arrived and passed, and still we waited. Two more boys arrived--each from different troops. The car that had called from Ammon arrived with four more boys. 45 minutes later, a nine boy total from four different troops were represented. Was it worth it?
"Well, we knew we had a hard weekend, but the track meet Thursday got rained out and had to be rescheduled for next weekend. We just don't have another Saturday," justified the professional scouter.
"We don't mind not having more. Maybe we'll have a chance this way," echoed the boys.
"It is discouraging to have so few. It's not real competition," rebutted the scouter.
"It's competition enough for me," chirped in the smallest of the scouts.
"I can only swim one speed no matter how many are against me," volunteered the tallest of the scouts.
"We have driven quite a way," said one of the adults.
"Okay. Let's go with it." Everyone agreed with the scouter.
First event--100 yard freestyle. You may enter as many events as you want. Five entrants in the first one. Good! Let's go.
I, the mother, ended up judge at one end with the driver of the car from Ammon, to watch two hand or two feet turns. "Oops--we better change sides. I'm on the lane my boy is in, and you are on yours."
Well, up to this point everything seemed to finally be getting under way fairly normally now. But wait--it's time for the Butterfly. One of the boys I brought has upchucked his breakfast and withdrawn, and seven of the remaining eight are winded leaving only one to race.
"Gee, that's too bad," said the man in charge. "I can't run a competition for one. I can only award one less metal than number of participants. If even one more boy would swim I could at least give a first place award."
That's when the magic began to happen. One of the shortest boys stood up and volunteered, "Gee, I'd hate you to miss your metal because of us--you are real good. I will swim it with you if I can take my time. I think I can make it that far."
Another arose. "Well, if you'll try, I will, but i'll have to swim slow with you."
"Well, we'll have three--let's go."
I called this magic because I don't remember anybody introducing themselves to anybody, but suddenly everybody knew the first names of the boys swimming. Every boy and leader joined in on a first name basis to cheer the boys--not to win, but "C'mon, you can make it." And they did.
All was completed now except the relays. My own son said he felt like death warmed over, and my remaining boy had hurt a muscle in his hip which had given his trouble before. They were ready to go to the dressing room.
"Without them that leaves only one team for relays." I saw the disappointed looks on the faces of the all-one troop team.
I intercepted my boys and asked, "How about it boys? You saw what happened the last race. Could you possibly handle this relay, so these other boys can get their medals and points."
"Let's give it a try," my son offered.
"Well, I guess I can try," added the boy with the hurting leg.
It was settled. The all-one-troop team was very grateful to have a chance. Now the entire eight boys were swimming. One team composed of three different troops all on a first name basis, and all four of them trying only for the sake of the other four. "This is what scouting is all about!" I thought to myself, "To see all eight of them striving for goals they weren't even sure they could reach--this is a very successful Swim Olympics!"
A very warm glow seemed to be bursting out of me, and I caught myself shouting words of encouragement to every boy as he reached his turn. I suddenly remembered I was a judge and sheepishly looked over at the other judge who winked at me and continued yelling encouragement to the boys in his lane. Our eight boys managed to complete the freestyle relay with the all-one-team in first place as expected... but the best was yet to come.
It was time now for the last event--the medley relay. It was agreed to cut the length of the race as we didn't have two boys left who could possibly make the 100 yard Butterfly even if they had all day. So with shortened distance the combined-troop team again agreed to swim for the sake of the all-one-troop team. To our astonishment the combined troop team held their own with the first swimmer, and the second teammate began to pull ahead. As the third teammate held the lead by inches, I saw the timers get excited and begin to cheer. When the forth teammate hit the water just seconds before the all-one-troop, even the college lifeguard, who had been totally indifferent up until now, rose up and added his voice to the cheers. Team two, the combined-troops team won the race. Not even the all-one-troop team minded.
All eight boys literally dragged themselves to the bench for the awards, and I hear one boy utter in a panted whisper that sounded like a last breath of life, "I made it."
Yes, they all made it--barely. I was proud of every one of them.
Who won? Well, every participant received at least one medal, and no one there will ever deny--they were earned. Who won? They all did!