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 That Lollar. What a guy, said Bynum. Caxton snorted.
 Just to let you know, in case others contact any of you. We re starting a list.
We still don t know what Ms. Darcy s intentions are, beyond her present con-
tracts with us. We ll have to talk to her after this is over. Hartley, that s probably
your sad duty.
 That s right, Braithwaite rumbled.  Stick the black man with the hard part.
Caxton spit scotch onto the carpet and coughed several times, holding his hand
to his nose.
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Onscreen, the diving began. Darcy had built up what seemed an insurmount-
able lead in the semifinals the day before. In this final round, despite good dives
from most of the rest of the women the conclusion seemed inevitable. The
crowd, while not unappreciative of her closest competitors, went crazy whenever
she slipped out of the pool after a dive and smiled hesitantly at them. She waved
shyly once and a rhythmic thumping and clapping thundered throughout the
building.
The same pair of announcers from the previous two days went into paroxysms
of analysis during the slow motion replays of each of Darcy s dives. It did seem
amazing to the watching lawyers how all the divers approached perfection but
failed ever so slightly in tiny ways while Darcy seemed to hit every dive with
hardly a waver. The color commentator, a young former diver named Naia Don-
ough, was particularly fixated on Darcy s entry into the water, showing slow
motion tape frame by frame from cameras both above and below the water.
 She s doing something with her hands, Donough said.  She s shaping them
somehow at the instant they hit the water, but she s doing it too fast and there are
too many bubbles around her hands to be able to tell exactly what. Of course,
she s small, and wouldn t make a huge splash anyway. But she s amazingly precise
in controlling and orienting her body at the exact moment of entry. That s hard
to do when you re falling while spinning at forty miles an hour. I ve never seen
any diver as consistently able to control her body as she is. I ll tell you one thing,
Hal the videotapes of these dives are going to become training aids the world
over.
The partners had seen enough diving over the past three days to know that the
women saved their most difficult dives of the day for last. The more difficult a
particular dive was, the larger the  difficulty factor multiplied into the scoring.
None of them understood it completely, but they had learned that dives were var-
ious combinations of spins and twists, and that the spins and twists never
exceeded three or three and a half. When Donough said that Darcy s last dive
would have four and a half spins and two and a half twists, and that she, Naia
Donough, wasn t sure it was possible, they could only stare at the screen in
silence, as breathless as the spectators in the natatorium.
Darcy nailed that one too, her body spinning and twisting so rapidly that it
was a blur on the television screen. There was no splash and barely a sound just
bubbles floating to the surface, as if she had sucked the water down behind her. It
was so quiet when she slipped out of the pool that the camera picked up her
coach s  Yeah! as he handed her a towel and hugged her, and then a steady, puls-
ing roar began that shook the building for a good five minutes. The unfortunate
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next diver had to stand on the high platform until the crowd quieted, and then,
perhaps shaken by it all, badly missed her dive.
As soon as the final four divers had taken their turns, the medal ceremony was
held at the end of the pool opposite the platform. When Darcy stepped on the
top riser, the crowd applauded anew. The medals were awarded, the anthem was
played, and Darcy ventured a hesitant wave, which increased the noise level. She
looked clearly dismayed by the ruckus, only increasing the passion of the specta-
tors. Officials hustled her out to a waiting bus to take her to the starting line of
the marathon. The screen cut to commercials.
Bynum, a respectable college athlete in his day, glanced at Braithwaite.  Hart-
ley, what is this? What the hell is this?
Braithwaite s mouth twitched.  You got me. I just work here.
Benning shook his head.  This is unreal. This is huge. What are we getting
ourselves into?
 That s five, said Braxton.
The screen was showing a van with the Olympic symbol on the side passing
through a neighborhood of row houses and little shops. The camera zoomed in
on two heads silhouetted behind the driver. The shorter of the two appeared to
be eating something.
C H A P T E R 37
The women s marathon was scheduled to begin at 8:00 pm Alpine time. Matt
wondered if they had scheduled it that way for the television audience in the
United States, or if the middle of the afternoon in Dublin was simply the best
time for a really long run. His nerves were shot. It had made his heart ache to see
Darcy standing practically naked, probably cold and scared to death, in that giant
natatorium, with thousands of strangers shouting at her. How she could focus so
intently was a mystery. He was certain that she wanted to run and hide some-
where he damn sure would want to, if he were in her place.
At least he understood running. The two latest commentators were full of
details about the course, the challenges in this part or that part, and  the wall,
the point at which a runner s conditioning and food played out, leaving her with
only her force of will to withstand pain and hallucinations to keep going. Matt
had once run five miles to see if he could do it, and he could, but it took him
three days to get over it. Merely walking twenty six miles would take him half a
day, if he could even do that. Running twenty six plus miles seemed impossible. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]