Well the Nationals are over. That means there are 321 days to the US Olympic Trials. We have two swimmers, Rhi and John, who have qualified to swim and I will be working as best I can to get a third on his way to Omaha, Nebraska.
So, what were the Nationals like? Bloody great, is the answer. The competition, the efficiency, the pool, everything was just as a Nationals should be. The meet was like an old overcoat, it felt warm, it felt comfortable, it was just right, a good fit. But it wasn’t only the swimming that stood out. In fact the swimming was pretty much as I expected. Of course Michael Phelps and company are fast. There is no surprise there. Sadly, those guys are so good, it’s only when they swim slowly that we are surprised and that’s not often.
Rather, I was surprised at the small, peripheral things. Take for example the “Athletes’ Lounge”. Here was an area set aside for athletes to sit, watch TV and relax. It was well stocked with food and drink. It was the equal, in every way, of the fine fare being enjoyed by coaches and officials at the other end of the pool. What a revolution, what progress, what a victory for swimming liberals; an “Athletes’ Lounge”. There is not another Championship in the World that athletes are afforded this hospitality. If there is, I’ve not been there. The message it sends, is that USA Swimming cares. Athletes are as important as coaches and officials. Compare that with the New Zealand custom of providing officials with boundless chardonnay hospitality while coaches and swimmers swelter on the pool deck. They say a nation gets the athletes it deserves. I guess that’s true in both countries.
The officials are very good. Being my first USA Nationals I had to ask some pretty basic questions. Where could I get the morning’s heat sheets; all that sort of thing. In every case, I was helped way beyond what was asked for or required. One well known official told me how good it was to see Rhi’s pink hair around the pool. Made him feel quite at home, he said. I know his comments made me feel quite at home too.
At other Nationals I’ve been spied on, abused and ignored. At one Mexico City Championship I tried to get my swimmer off a disqualification because the Disqualification Form had been filled out in Spanish and I couldn’t read it, and the date on the form was the previous year. The referee said I was a disgrace and was clearly the sort of person who would get rapists off on a technicality. He was a very angry official. In Indianapolis there was none of that. Incidentally, I have occasionally wondered what my Mexican official thought about the USA team getting Peirsol off a disqualification in the men’s 200 backstroke in Athens for very similar reasons. In Mexico that would have been enough to put Mark Schubert in my club of people well known for protecting rapists.
The other thing I liked about the officials in Indianapolis; they know how to run a swim meet. They start on time and keep the meet running on time. You can trust the time line, even the one prepared at 10.00 am for the 12.00 noon time trials. But probably the best example of what I’m trying to explain is illustrated by the Indianapolis referees and starters. In most meets these officials have a little space at the starting end of the pool that is defended jealously. Several German Shepard dogs would not be out of place in some meets I’ve attended. At Indianapolis the volume of traffic was such that, while each race was in the water, the referee’s and starter’s space was a pedestrian freeway. On a number of occasions I guiltily walked through it, trying desperately to avoid eye contact with anyone dressed in white. Several times I received a warm, “Good morning” from the officials whose space I was so brazenly invading. Whatever USA Swimming is doing to train their officials, don’t change. It’s not broke.
While it may not be about swimming, I was impressed with the town of Indianapolis. Downtown is historic, colorful and clean. There are horse and cart rides through the town center, massive monuments to the Civil War and a selection of pubs and restaurants to die for. Even the homeless seem to be doing all right. One guy sat on the same corner most days. On my first day I gave him some of my change. As I put the money in his tin I couldn’t help but notice that the cell phone he was talking into was one of those new $600 iphones and his very up-market music ipod probably cost about the same.
Being as Indiana was the birthplace of Abraham Lincoln, Andrew and I decided to visit the Civil War museum. That Civil War was a pretty deadly period of American history. The tents soldiers lived in weren’t up to much either. If the medical kits on display were anything to go by it would have been best not to get wounded. One had an amputation saw that would never cut cleanly through anything. A museum like that makes you realize that in most cases there has to be a better solution to an argument than wars that kill thousands.
On our last night in Indianapolis Rhi’s Dad took Rhi, John, Haley McGregory and me to Ruth’s Chris Steakhouse. I had the most fantastic lamb chops ever eaten. I don’t know whether they were from New Zealand or Montana but wherever, they were bloody good and a reminder of home. I also had a touch too much white wine. I refuse to comment on the drinking or eating habits of my companions. It was fun; just the very best way to end a great meet.