Last week, I went swimming at the rec center. I was doing butterfly stroke, the Fly, flyin’ through the water.
When I stopped at the end of the lane after a lap, or half a lap, a young boy, appearing about ten or eleven, was standing on the deck of the pool, above me.
He said, “That was some good swimming! I saw that in the Olympics. Were you in the Olympics?”
I said, “Thanks. I was in the Senior Olympics.”
He looked at me with obvious disappointment.
“Oh,” he said and walked away. I guess my answer was not what he hoped for.
Me neither. It was not the answer I wish I could give.
If given another chance, so as not to disappoint any young admirers, I will say, “Yes, I was in the Olympics. Would you like my autograph?”
I might add, with feigned humility, “I also play for the Broncos. I left my Super Bowl ring in the locker so I won’t lose it in the pool.”
That would make the kid’s day, to meet someone as admirable as me.
It would make my day too.
P.S. I thought of how to sign my autograph — Walter Mitty.
Awwww. I love this story.
Walter Mitty. Good one.