i go to ballparks

$1.50 Pizza and the Smell of Chlorine

All-Alaska Swimming Championships
July 14, 2006 Bartlett High School Swimming Pool, Anchorage, AK.


A swimming tournament for kids ages 7-15. Would I like to go and see my cousin's son, Luke, participate? Sure, why not.The tournament was for three days and my in-laws were going to be there for most of it. They encouraged me that I didn't have to be there for all of it. Dang right. See a few of the kid's races, bask in family pride for a few minutes, and then go and do something else. One day in "tournament time".

I have been through the "tournament" experience countless times before, both as participant and spectator. Go to the site and set up camp for a day or more. Pack a bunch of things to eat and bring reading material or, in this day and age, i-pods, CD players, or laptops. Prepare yourself for the "hurry up and wait" rigors of the day. Grab a program/schedule and keep it near you because that is your bible.

Oh, yes, I've been through it before. My younger brothers wrestled in high school and both were good enough to make the Washington State finals (my brother, Rob, won the 1996 cruserweight title and my youngest brother, Chris, finished second in the heavyweight division in 1997 and 1998) and wrestle in other invitational tournaments throughout the state and the nation. First match is at 10 A.M. If you win, you wrestle again at 3 P.M. Lose, your next match is at noon. And so it goes. Hours of waiting to get to moments of something that you care about. Sure, you can watch all the others competing and it can be exciting but your interest wanes as the day goes on. When's whatshisname's race/match? How long? How soon? Do I have time to go get something to eat? Do I have time to hit the head? Yes, yes, I know tournament time well.

And coming to the Bartlett High School pool on this day was no different. Walking through the doors, I was greeted by a group of girls sitting in a corner playing Pokemon. They were wrapped in towells and and wearing swimming caps and were enjoying themselves in this little place away from all the hubbub. Tournament indeed, I thought.

I climbed up the steps to the balcony overlooking the large pool and was immediately hit by sticky warmth of an indoor pool followed by the smell of chlorine. Never have liked that smell. I spent a day swimming at my local pool when I was in eighth grade, about four hours straight of swimming and diving, and came home sick as a dog. I felt feverish and couldn't hold down any food. My mother suggested that I had chlorine poisoning. Is ther such a sickness. In any event, since then I have always limited my swimming pool time to an hour or so and to always use that shower that the signs at the pool instruct you to use. The smell of chlorine always sends me to a sense memory. I filed in my mind where the doors were to go get fresh air.

Walking through the balcony to find my relations encampment, I took in all the sights and sounds of this All-Alaska Swimming Championships. Nothing really different from what I, and you, have seen before. As I said, "tournament time". Races going on with a fraction of people watching. Huge Olympic-sized pool. Whistles and cheers adding a bit to the din. Parents reading books, sitting on cushions in the bleachers or on their own lawn or camping chairs. They look up occasionally to see what time it is and to glance at the huge scoreboard to see where they are in the program. Young kids of all ages and all types of swimming gear running around with juice boxes and orange slices. Girls are usually wrapped in towells or bathrobes, boys walk around slightly wet and allow themselves to air dry. Most of them have a listening device in their ears to block out all the clutter around them. Coaches walk around making sure the kids are aware of their start times or are talking to other coaches.

On the northwest side of the building, several parents manned a concession stand that had fruit, candy, earplugs, swimming goggles, water, soda, what have you. Adjacent to the food stand were racks of swimming clothes and other accesories, some provided by a local swim shop but most of the gear were fro parents: a garage sale of sorts. Another section was sponsored by a pizza house and there were stacks of boxes of pizza inside warmbags. They were pushing slices of pizza, cheese or meat, for $1.50. A little girl kept walking around the facility holding a cardboard sign that promoted the price. It caught my eye. I asked the girl if she was getting paid in pizza for her work. She smiled and kept walking. Nothing was in the contract about talking to people. apparantly. Yes, i bought a couple of slices and I bought some for my participant cousin.

Watching the races were only exciting for me when Luke was in it, I must confess. In all of the races I watched, the pattern seemed to be that one racer would get the lead early and then extend it more as the race went on. The battle was always for second, third, and fourth with no exception. Luke finished third in one race and then fourth in the other one I witnessed. I'm sorry I can't tell you what races they were: butterfly, freestyle, fifty-meter, etc. I really have no enthusiasm for swimming. I know the important names at Olympic time and know some of the greater programs in the NCAA and in Washington state high schools, but that is as far as my fandom will go. I believe I fall in the George Carlin adage that swimming is not a sport; swimming is what you do to keep from drowning, to paraphrase. So I was happy to watch my cousin compete and do well. He's ten and I hope he keeps up with the sport. He seems to like it.

I watched two races. spent some money, and left before the chlorine got to me. Another experience in "tornament time".

posted by paul shipp @ 12:36 PM