On Wednesday, March 11th, I walked through an eerily empty Newark Airport to board a flight due for Cleveland. My destination, planned for months, was the CSCAA’s National Invitational Championship. In 48 hours I found myself at the last* swim meet in America
(I’m being purposefully dramatic, there were probably a few other meets and time trials and whatever you might call them going on).
Business As Usual
Before the meet got underway, everything was pretty much business as usual. Teams had arrived the day before to get a swim in the competition pool. There were rumors of a few teams dropping out due to Covid-19 but everyone else seemed ready to get their postseason underway.
The only thing unusual was that the day before, spectators had been banned from the meet. It was at this time that I started to feel uneasy about my own participation. I was neither a spectator nor a direct competitor in the competition. Hindsight is 20/20, but here four days later, it’s clear I shouldn’t have gone.
There was a nice buzz around the deck. People were excited to be there, much more excited than I ever would have believed if you’d proposed this concept to me ten years ago. The CSCAA had created an opportunity, and steadily more and more teams and athletes were availing themselves of that opportunity.
Cancellation Dominoes
Almost as soon as we got underway, the entire landscape of American life began to shift. Large events were getting cancelled. Colleges, including my alma mater, started sending students home en masse. As I was leaving, my daughters elementary school closed for at least the next week.
Then, as we peered into our screens between races, came the big one. The Ivy League had cancelled all spring sports. It seemed totally unbelievable. Now it looks prescient.
By the time we got to finals of the first day, we got word that D2 NCAAs, down the road in Geneva, Ohio, had disbanded in between prelims and finals. We would swim our finals, but that would be it. USA Swimming had urged teams to cancel all meets.
Coach to Travel Agents
Across the deck, the conversation shifted to how everyone would get home. Did you get a flight for tomorrow? Did you drive here?
Depending on your school, you had more or less support back home for coordinating this. Being a one man show, I spent an hour or so trying fruitlessly to get myself home early before finding out that United wanted to charge me money for that. It would have to wait until the morning.
One Last Swim
People at the meet were disappointed to not get to properly finish their season, but I didn’t hear anyone who really disagreed with what happened. With one session left, athletes were determined to get that last swim in. There were 18 heats of time trials with an increasingly thin pool deck.
Last in the water was Jaykob Williams to swim a 1000 free. Ordinarily, I would have been pretty cynical about such an attempt. A 1000 free time trial? Really?
Word was that he was trying for a school record. Not wanting to bug his coach, I googled “Air Force Academy Men’s Swimming” and navigated to their school records. I prayed the 9:07 I found was up to date.
He was on pace.
With 200 left I couldn’t help myself, I got to the side of the pool deck and started jumping up and down in the air. It was the most exciting 1000 free time trial I’d ever seen.
The final time? 9:02.56