Aspirations

                                                     Aspirations

Sebbie and Noah, ages 4 and 5, walked ahead of the group, distancing themselves from aunts, uncles, girl cousins and nattering, bossy grandparents.

Sebbie's feet hurt, unaccustomed to hot, sweaty boots on a warm day.

Noah stayed cool, hands in pockets, shades, baseball cap with a flat brim like the Toronto Blue Jays' pitcher Ricky Romero.

"Noah" said Sebbie, "I think I want to become a teacher. I like conveying ideas to other kids, and it's really rewarding to see the coin drop. My sister Skarly learns quick. I taught her the word 'No' in French the other day."

"What's 'No' in French, Sebbie?" asked his curious pal.

"Non"

"Boy, are you ever smart! Bilingual at 4!"

"What do you want to do when you grow up, Noah?"

"I think that with the problems I've encountered with my eyesight, I'd like to be an opthalmologic surgeon. My grampa Greg says I'm as smart as he is, which is pretty darn smart, and I could be anything I wanted to be. All I need ia the money to get through years of school"

"Good for you. You'll find the money" enthused Sebastian.

"There's a long road ahead of us, Sebbie" commented Noah.

"I can't even see over that hill. And my feet are hurting" replied Sebbie.

Looking down, an observant Noah said, "It might help if you had your boots on the right feet!"

The Chief

Howie 'The Chief' Scannell was, according to various astute judges of roundy-round ability, one of the most talented drivers ever seen on Canadian oval tracks.

And that includes up to the present day.

As a kid racing Supers at the CNE and Flamboro in the "L'il Bee" #42 - a modest, underpowered, poor handling clunker - he knew enough to stay out of the way of Greedy, Hogan and Howard.

Later, when he graduated into better equipment in the waning days of the Supers at Flamboro, he won or finished well on a regular basis.
One night, sick of being passed by the #110 Jack Greedy Spl, he let his right front wheel stay out for a fraction longer going into the first turn, and Greedy took a wild ride into the infield, flipping 7 times by some accounts.
Fortunately, he landed on his wheels.
No HANS devices in those ancient days!

Scannell switched from Supers to Late Models, from #42 to #99, and went on to dominate as well in this division.
It's no surprise that Jack Cook gave him respect on the track - whether Pine Crest or anywhere else - as out of the car Scannell was an impressive 6 footer, running roughly 200 lbs.
Nice guy, cool, but would be happy to oblige!

If he'd had sponsorship, he would have been dominant in any division, such as Oswego Supers or USAC's Indy cars.

Second Chance

Swimming is a sociable sport - at least if you indulge in it like I do - by doing "sets" of say, either 2 or 4 lengths @ 25m at a good pace, resting at the end wall to catch your breath, then flying off for the next set until the life of a courier beckons. The resting phase affords all kinds of opportunity to gossip with the guy (or heaven forbid, the babe) in the next lane. If I rattle on too long, the lifeguard will casually stroll by and ask the poor, trapped individual with whom I'm talking, "Ma'am (or sir), is this guy bothering you? Yes? Warren, get swimming!" Much laughter follows.

In that aspect, the Town of Ohville does a good job of taking care of its lane swim patrons.

Last Friday I was talking to Ron in the next lane, who was looking particularly industrious, on his way to 100 laps, grinding them off with a Breaststroke/Freestyle Combo. Up until last October, Ron would stomp out his cigarette in the parking lot, then drag his 285 lbs into the change room, get into a pair of monstrous floppy bloomers then hit the pool for a convivial 25 laps or so. The fastest Ron moved during the hour long session was in getting dressed so he could get outside for another weed.

Ron used to be a Junior A hockey player for the Three Tree Creek Greyhounds, just before Gretzky got there. Underneath the layers, you can detect a powerful build and good motor. Ron is 54 and runs a very successful marketing business.

I didn't see him for a long time, and when he finally showed up in March, he looked different. "Ron , you look 10 years younger, what the heck has been going on for the past 6 months?"

"I had a massive heart attack last October. Barely made it. I was rushed to Newmart to have open heart surgery to clean out the grease. I've quit smoking, lost 30 lbs and am working with a trainer to make the best recovery possible. I've been given a second chance and I'm not going to blow it"

The changeroom fell dead silent. Impactful stuff. Stuff we all think about. After a short pause, everyone rallied about Ron, wishing him a full recovery.

Back to last Friday. "Warren" he said, "I want to throw a wee challenge in your direction. Swimming same old same old laps every day can get a little boring and I need some spice. How about we have a go?"

"Just as long as you remember that, according to my family I'm an aging gentleman"

"Well, I have to keep my pace down so that my target heart rate doesn't exceed 130. What I'm suggesting is that I do 2 lengths, you do 4"

"Seems fair. After all, I'm only twice your age. Sure, I'm game"

So away we went. Ron beat me by a stroke. I arm length. "What's your heartrate?" I gasped. "124!" he replied proudly.

Then quickly, he transferred his monitor to my chest. "Good Lord, Warren, you're 178!"

"Ron, I just swam 4 lengths to your 2. What we had was by any other name a race. Knute Rockne always claimed that winning counts. Why else have a race?"

But for the future, we asked the lifeguard if she'd kindly bring the defibrillator down onto the pool deck and station it between our two lanes...