by Rich Wallace
Donald chewed on his lip and nodded. “You got me there.”
“You have two weeks to sign up,” Manny said.
“I’ll think about it.” Donald looked at Manny’s mom and pointed to the table. “Two,” he said, sliding two cards toward the dealer.
“Can I run with you tomorrow, Manny?” Sal asked.
“Sure. You can jog over with me. Want to join us, Donald? One o’clock at the track.”
Donald was frowning at the new cards he’d picked up and playing with a couple of raisins. “We’ll see,” he said. He looked up and smiled. “I’ll sleep on it tonight. You never know.”
Manny and Sal jogged along Central Avenue on Saturday afternoon. As they approached the high school track, they could see Anthony walking toward them. He waved and started jogging, too.
Sal hugged Anthony’s legs as they met and Anthony reached down and tickled him. “You gonna run with us, Sal?”
“Yeah. Manny said I could.”
“You’ll beat us by a mile,” Anthony said. “How are we supposed to keep up with a little pony like you?”
“He’ll take it easy on us, right Sal?” Manny said.
“No way. I’m fast. ”
The afternoon was colder than the day before, but there was no wind at all. Sal was wearing big blue mittens and a shiny sweatsuit. Manny had black sweatpants and a long-sleeved red warm-up jersey from last year’s soccer team.
“My legs are sore from yesterday,” Anthony said. “Haven’t sprinted that far in a while. Probably never. ”
“Well, most of the indoor sprint races are about sixty meters, I think. So you’re already ahead of the game.”
Anthony nodded and started jogging as they reached the track. “I’ll take one easy lap to warm up,” he said. “Then we can get started.”
“Donald said he might show up,” Sal said.
“Yeah, well let’s not hold our breath waiting,” Manny said. “I’ve got a feeling Donald is at home watching a football game on TV.”
“Too bad for him,” said Sal. “He’s missing all the action right here.”
4
Digging Deep
Two weeks went by quickly. Manny and Anthony continued to work out most days, and other kids joined them a few times. But not Donald.
Twenty-six kids showed up for the first practice session. A few snowflakes were falling as Coach Alvaro greeted the athletes—sixteen boys and ten girls. Manny was glad to see Vinnie DiMarco and several others from the football team waiting in the bleachers.
“Welcome to the world’s most exciting sport,” Coach said, smacking his black mittens together. “How many of you have been in a track-and-field program before?”
Three of the girls raised their hands. None of the boys.
“I started running for a club when I was about your age, and I’ve been at it ever since,” Coach said. “There’s nothing like racing to your potential, digging deep and giving everything you’ve got.”
“What club?” asked one of the girls.
“The Shore Athletic Club,” Coach said. “I’m still a member, almost twenty years later.”
“You must be ancient,” said the girl. Manny’d had a few classes with her—Sherry Allegretta. She always had a wisecrack to make. And she’d always ignored Manny.
“I’m older than the hills,” Coach said with a smile, although he wasn’t even thirty. “That’s one great thing about track and field. There’s something for every age. Kids, high school, college, and way beyond that.”
“You ran in college?” Sherry asked.
“Yeah,” Coach said. “Rowan University in South Jersey.”
“Were you good?”
“Pretty good. All-American on a relay team. Now let’s see what you guys can do. Take two laps easy. Then we’ll stretch. Let’s go.”
“I’m a jumper, not a runner,” Sherry said.
“Jumpers need to run, too.”
Manny led the runners onto the track and began moving at a brisk pace. He was already warmed up from running over from home, and his excitement level was high.
Manny was several yards ahead of the next runners as he rounded the second turn. But as he ran along the front straightaway, he heard footsteps coming closer.
He glanced back and there was Sherry, gaining on him with every stride. This isn’t a race, Manny told himself. Let her show off during the warm-up. Wait until we start training.
Sherry came up alongside Manny on the backstretch, and he increased his pace a bit so she wouldn’t pass. Sherry was about his height, with thick reddish hair that bounced on her shoulders as she ran. She was looking straight ahead, focused on the track.
As they rounded the final turn, Sherry began to sprint, pulling ahead of Manny as she moved into the second lane. Manny wasn’t about to let that continue. He opened his stride and began a near-sprint, moving back into the lead and finishing slightly ahead.
“Whoa,” Coach said as they slowed to a walk. “That was supposed to be a warm-up, guys. Save some of that fire for the workout.”
“No problem,” Manny said, but he was breathing rapidly. “I always sprint at the end of a warm-up.”
Coach smiled. “I thought you weren’t a runner, Sherry,” he said.
“You never know,” she replied. “You need speed on the long-jump runway. And maybe I’ll do some racing.”
“You look like a natural.”
“I used to be a gymnast,” she said. “Got tired of that.”
Manny stared at Sherry. She glanced back with what seemed like a bit of an edge, but then looked away and began to stretch, reaching for her ankles and shutting her eyes. She was faster than most of the boys. And the back of her sweatshirt said GET USED TO THE VIEW.
The other runners were finishing now, with Anthony jogging in with the final group. Coach told everyone to spread out near the finish line, and he led them through a series of stretches.
“Today we’ll all work out together,” he said, “until we figure out the best events for everybody. In a few days we’ll break into two groups—sprinters, jumpers, and throwers in one; middle- and long-distance runners in the other. But there’ll be lots of overlap. Sprinters need endurance, and distance runners need speed.”
“Will the girls run with the boys?” Sherry asked.
“Yes. In the meets, boys and girls will compete separately, but we’ll all train together. Everybody has different strengths and weaknesses. You’ll all gain by training with the others.”
Manny kept his eyes on the coach, but he knew Sherry was looking at him. She seemed very competitive. He’d have to work his butt off to stay ahead of her. Losing to a girl would not be cool.
“Today we’ll do 200-meter runs, with a 200-meter jog between,” Coach said. “That’s half the track, and it’s a basic workout distance. We’ll do four of them, gradually building speed so the last one is an all-out sprint.”
He split the group in two, with Manny joining Sherry, Vinnie DiMarco, and some others in what was obviously the faster section. DiMarco had been the quarterback on the football team, and he had good speed.
“Fun, huh?” Manny said to Zero Rollison as they jogged toward the starting line.
“Should be,” Zero said. Zero had been given his nickname way back in first grade, when the teacher made a list on the blackboard of kids who were fooling around in class and would have to stay in for recess for two days. M.R. for Manny, D.J. for Donald, Z.Ra. for Zach Raymond, and Z.Ro. for Zach Rollison. Even as first graders, the kids were quick to pick up on that. He’d been Zero ever since.
“Steady pace, now,” Coach said as the runners got ready. “The idea is to finish the workout as strong as you started.” He blew his whistle and they took off.
Manny, Vinnie, and Sherry were tightly bunched as they came off the turn and onto the straightaway.
“Steady!” Coach yelled.
Manny stayed steady, but he made sure that he held the lead. His quick strides brought him down the track, pu
mping his arms and pulling ahead of the others as he glided through the finish.
“You’ve got great form, Manny,” Coach said as the runners approached the starting line for the next one. “Sherry, try to relax your shoulders a bit. Vinnie, stop gritting your teeth.”
Manny finished first in the next two intervals, but he was winded. No way would he let up now. The final 200-meter run would be an all-out race. Everybody would be gunning for that one.
DiMarco took off like lightning, and Sherry was right behind him. It was all Manny could do to stay ahead of Zero on the turn, but as they reached the straightaway, his endurance paid off. Zero fell behind, and Manny shifted into the second lane and drew even with Sherry. Now he drove into a full sprint, and that effort carried him ahead of her. DiMarco’s lead was too much to overcome, but Manny was gaining. He crossed the finish line just inches behind.
DiMarco reached over and Manny smacked his hand. “Nice job,” Manny said.
“You, too.”
They turned and watched the second group of runners finish. Anthony was struggling, but he was ahead of two others. He snatched off his cap at the finish line and wiped his face with it. “That is a long way to sprint,” he said to Manny.
“Good running, though,” Manny said, falling into step with Anthony as they walked toward the pile of sweatshirts and stuff on the bottom row of the bleachers.
“Those workouts with you paid off,” Anthony said, still puffing hard. “I never would have survived this a month ago.”
Manny found his warm-up top and his gloves and picked them up. Sherry was leaning forward against the fence, stretching out her legs. Manny walked past her without catching her eye.
But Sherry surprised him by speaking. “Great running,” she said.
Manny looked over, making sure it was him she was addressing. She raised her eyebrows slightly, waiting for a reply.
“Thanks,” he said. “You’re fast.”
“We’ll be pushing each other all winter,” she said. “That can’t be bad.”
“Definitely,” Manny said.
“I think I’ll be racing after all,” she said. “Like Coach said, running and jumping go together.”
Manny nodded. “You definitely should be racing,” he said. “I mean, I’m fast. And you pushed me all day.”
Coach blew his whistle and called everybody over. “We’ve got some real talent here,” he said. “I want two more easy laps from everybody—walk some of it if you have to. We’ll meet again two days from now, and then again on Saturday. There’s a relay meet in New York in two weeks. We should be ready to race by then.”
Manny felt another surge of energy when Coach mentioned the meet. Before he knew it, they’d be racing for real! He took off running again, envisioning that relay meet. This time, no one else stayed close.
5
Monopoly
Manny’s locker was right next to Donald’s. He leaned against it and waited after school a few days later. Soon Donald came bounding down the hall, running into a fifth-grader and nearly knocking her over.
“What’s up?” Manny asked.
“Nothing. Just was getting drilled by Mrs. Luciano after English,” he said. “She said I was fooling around in class. Would I do that?”
“No way,” Manny said, solemnly shaking his head. Then he laughed. “You’re the perfect student.”
“Teachers love me,” Donald said. “I’m always polite and attentive.”
“Yes, you are. You deserve a medal or something.”
“At least,” Donald said. “They should maybe rename the school after me.” He shoved his books into his locker and put on his coat. “You coming over today?” he asked.
Manny hesitated. “I need to run first,” he said.
“I thought there was no practice on Fridays.”
“There isn’t. But I want to do some extra work. We got a meet coming up.”
“You never hang out anymore.”
“That ain’t true,” Manny said. “I swear, I’ll come over in an hour or so. I won’t be long.”
“Yeah, right,” Donald said.
They walked over to Anthony’s locker. Anthony was looking at a sheet of paper and frowning.
“What’s that?” Donald asked.
Anthony shook his head. “More crap,” he said. “Somebody stuck this on my locker.”
Manny took the paper. In the same red lettering as before, someone had written TRACK EVENTS: Manny and Sherie—high-speed make-out session. Demarco—sprints and hair-combing. Anthony—pie-eating contest.
“They didn’t even spell the names right,” Manny said.
“Who is this jerk?” Anthony said. “If I catch him, he’s dog meat.”
Donald bent the paper toward him to read it. “It is kind of funny, though.” He looked at Anthony and took a step back. “No offense. Pretty good line about DiMarco.” He turned to Manny. “Something going on with you and Sherry, hotshot?”
Manny rolled his eyes. “I barely know her,” he said.
Anthony took the paper back and crunched it up. “Idiots,” he said, looking at the ball of paper. He put it on the shelf of his locker, then slammed it shut. “Let ’em laugh,” he said. “I got some running to do.”
Manny ran for half an hour along the side streets of Hudson City, struggling a bit up the hills but enjoying the rhythm of the running. He ran past the tightly packed houses with their small back-yards and narrow driveways, along rutted side-walks, or right in the street, alongside parked cars and under the bare-branched maple trees. The air was cold but dry.
He quickly changed clothes after the workout.
“Mom, I’m going over to Donald’s for a little while,” he said, coming down the stairs into the kitchen. Mom was a bank teller and had arranged her schedule so she’d be home when Sal finished kindergarten each day. She was just starting to prepare dinner.
“We’ll be eating at six,” she said. “Your dad will be home early tonight, so don’t be more than an hour.”
“Okay,” Manny said. “That isn’t much time.”
“Well,” she said, “if you’re. going to work out every day, that doesn’t leave as much time for hanging out with Donald.”
“I guess.”
Manny and Donald had been tight as brothers for a long time, but this past football season had changed things a bit. Manny still considered Donald his best buddy, but Anthony had become a close friend, too. And Anthony was a dedicated athlete. He took sports as seriously as Manny did. That made a difference.
Manny winced as he remembered the line on the paper about him and Sherry. She was a serious athlete, too. But a girlfriend for Manny? No way.
Donald lived three blocks over on one side of a two-family duplex. He had the Monopoly board set up when Manny arrived.
“I’ve only got an hour,” Manny said.
“No problem,” Donald said. “You want a drink or something?”
“Yeah, I’m thirsty. I ran about three miles.”
They settled into the game, and Manny slowly built an empire of purple, green, and orange properties. Donald owned a couple of railroads, but he was getting clobbered until he landed on Boardwalk and cobbled together enough money to buy it.
“You’re mine now,” Donald said, rubbing his hands together in glee. A few turns later he added a couple of houses.
Manny rolled the die and his mouth fell open. “Oh, man!” he said, moving his little metal car ahead seven spaces. Right on Boardwalk! “How much do I owe you?”
“Six hundred bucks,” Donald said. “The come-back has begun!”
Just then the phone rang. Manny looked over at the clock. “That’ll be my mom,” he said. “I’m late.”
Donald answered the phone. “Hello,” he said into the receiver. “He’s on his way.”
“Call it a draw?” Manny said.
Donald frowned. “I guess. Just when I had you nailed, too.”
“Later,” Manny said as he hurried into his jacket and headed
for the door. “Catch you tomorrow afternoon. I’ve got practice at ten.”
Manny ran down Donald’s hill and up his own. He was home in less than two minutes.
“Record time,” said Dad, giving Manny a hug. “You’re not even out of breath.”
“I can run all day,” Manny said. “Smells great in here. I’m hungry.”
Sal was already seated at the table. “Me, too!” he said. “Let’s go, Manny. I’m starving.”
They all sat down and Dad said grace. Manny’s family was Catholic, but he’d always attended public school. Mrs. Ramos’s roots were Irish and Italian, but Dad’s parents had come over from Cuba. The family went to church most Sundays, and Manny had played several seasons for the parish soccer team.
“Let’s rent a movie tonight,” Dad said. “Have a family night.”
“Something scary!” Sal said.
“Sure,” said Dad. “Something scary.”
Manny reached over and put his hand on top of Sal’s head. “You won’t keep me up all night, will you?” he asked.
“Nah,” Sal said. “I’m brave. Nothing scares me.”
Manny laughed. “Wait till you get older. Life is plenty scary sometimes.”
6
First Race
Manny’s dad and several other parents did the driving as the team made its way into New York City for the first track and field meet. Manny sat in the front seat of the station wagon and tried to stay calm, but he could barely sit still.
He was scheduled to anchor the sprint medley relay. Zero would start with a 200-meter leg—one lap of the track. Then Calvin Tait would follow with another 200-meter run. Vinnie DiMarco would take the baton for 400 meters. Then Manny would finish the race with an 800-meter leg. Later, that same group would run the mile relay (actually, 1600 meters), with each one running 400 meters.
“This is going to be awesome,” Manny said, turning in his seat to face Zero and Anthony. “I can’t wait to get on that track.”
“Won’t be long now,” Dad said. They were on the George Washington Bridge over the Hudson River, crossing into New York City. “The Armory is right up here on 168th Street.”