[SwimTeamSpeedo]

Writer note: I had inadvertently used the IM order in the team event. My error. Here is the corrected version...

Jimmy was all fired up as the team event kicked off. Greg’s team was in lane three. The guys all looked amazing in Jimmy’s mind. Each of the guys was tall, over six feet, except for Juan, who the team called JP. JP was of Mexican descent, his tan complexion a clear contrast to the pale white of the other three. He was handsome, 5’10”, had a long abdomen and his arms seemed to have as much length as the taller guys. JP was the breast stroke leg, it was obvious why. Greg would swim the fly. John, a blonde, curly haired guy would take the back, and Craig was the wrap up with the free. Craig was the tallest, and he also seemed to have a really long torso and short legs. In Jimmy’s mind, Craig was the same build as Michael Phelps.

“Greg’s team is clearly the best,” Jimmy said to Greg’s two dads, real and host.

“Let’s hope so,” Greg’s real dad replied. He was flattered by Jimmy’s loyalty to his son, almost brother like, he thought.

“No hope to it,” Jimmy replied, “They will kick butt!” Jimmy sat n silence for a moment, then he apologized for saying butt. Greg’s mom was touched by the young teen’s politeness.

“Butt was a good choice,” Greg’s dad replied. “I had another word.” The guys all laughed.

“Swimmer’s mark,” the announcer called. John was in the water, and mounted the starting block, grasping the hold bar and positioning himself for the back launch. The team’s tension was high. Greg did his little ritual of rubbing his crotch, a sub-conscious act that he did not even realize he did when he got anxious at swim meets.

“Swimmers set,” came call two,. John readied his position. John was a a solid back swimmer, it would be a rave between him and the team from Springfield, MA. John was taller, had longer arms, but like Greg, he lost time on his turns.

The fake gun went off and the swimmers were in the air, their arching backs just over the top of the water as they launched off the wall. John‘s start looked perfect. . Everyone was screaming. Suddenly a horn blew. Jimmy was shocked as all the swimmers stopped and stood.

“What happened?” Jimmy asked.

“False start. I think in lane six. Looked like he went just ahead of the horn.” answered Greg's dad.

The eight swimmers walked back to the wall. A couple jumped out of the water. Greg shook his head, angry that his teammate missed out on what was a picture perfect launch. John stood at the wall, the frustration clear on his face. Monique watched as the guys all huddled around their blocks, their tight swimsuits clinging to their bodies. A few of them still wet from the warm up swims, including Greg’s. She admired the way Greg’s swimsuit clung to his anatomy. He had the most manly looking package in her opinion.

The swimmers mounted the blocks to start the race, again. The line up of wet swim suited guys was quite the show. It was a rainbow of colors and patterns, as the swimmers held to the hold bar and lifted themselves into position. Monique liked best the red and gold print swimsuits on the team in lane two, right next to Greg’s team. She liked least the solid black suits on the team in lane eight, no imagination, she thought. Lane seven was a team mixed between briefs and jammers. Monique really disliked jammers. She thought jammers looked like bike shorts, which she liked on cyclists, but not on swimmers. In jammers, a guys parts always got stuck down by their legs, which just looked ugly, Monique thought.

“Okay, let‘s get this done,” Greg thought again as he stood on the deck. “Stay hard to the wall,” the mantra running in his head. Greg was ready for his leg now, but he had to wait for two legs ahead. “You can do this” he told his teammate.

“Let’s do this,” JP yelled out in his Spanish accented speech. The tension and the enthusiasm running high on all the teams as they waited for the calls. The delay was the time required to reset all the clocks, touch pads and hand helds.

“False starts suck,” Greg finally said to his teammates. They did. They tugged away at the swimmer’s concentration, stirred up anger, and had the risk of messing a swimmer up.

“Stay focused,” Craig replied. He was a fiery red headed, lean guy. He looked amazing in the tiny swimsuit. He had the most well defined abs. Monique through he was almost as cute as Greg.

Finally, the calls. Jimmy was up out of his seat. Jimmy was almost as tense as the swimmers. “Go Sharks” Jimmy called, joined by Monique, as the gun went off, referring to the team’s name. John was off the block with a solid launch, even better than before. He arched back as best as he could, hitting the water just ahead of the swimmer in lane five, arguable the best team in the event. It was a clean start, no horn. John nailed it! JP was jumping and yelling. Craig applauded, and high fived Greg. The noise in the arena was deafening, as the teams and the crowd yelled. Jimmy was taking it all in. Like the team, he was cheering loudly for John. Greg was jumping in excitement. He turned to look at Jimmy and pumped his fists.

The race was on….