King of the Pool

                I always loved the water.  I can’t even remember not being able to swim.  That’s not to say that I came out of the womb swimming, I just learned young.  I think that loving water is something that is in my blood.  All Sharp men love the water.   Another interesting fact about all Sharp men, myself included, is that we are always overly eager to show off any and all of our abilities.  Where we lack in ability we make up with boldness, though some may call it stupidity. 

                These two traits often form a bad combination, as they did on this particular day.  It was a blistering summer day at the public swimming pool.  I was only about eight years old at the time, but was under the supervision of my two grandparents who allowed me plenty of freedom.   I, of course, was instantly drawn to the diving boards.  Too me, the diving boards were the only place of interest at any pool.  The shallow section was a place where girls and old people stayed, and the diving boards were a place for men to show off their diving skills.  When you’re eight, there also exist an unwritten code that creates a continuous competition for who can pull of the coolest and most daring trick.  The winner is crowned king of the pool (at least in his own head). 

                This particular pool had a high dive, which was unfamiliar to me, and it didn’t take long to realize that I would have to master the high dive in order to be crowned, which of course was my only goal.  As a potential king, I couldn’t let the competition know that I was a high dive beginner.  I decided that I should at least start off with a front flip that way they would know that I meant business.  I began to climb the ladder, showing no signs of fear.  When I reached the top, I stood tall and looked down at all of the people.  It felt great.  On top is where I belonged and I was here to prove it.  

                I began to focus.  I mentally ran through the trick; visualizing my takeoff, tuck, and landing.  I reminded myself that I had done this trick countless times on the low dive and that it would be a piece of cake.  If anything, the extra height would only make things easier.  “Nothing to worry about”, I told myself.  With that thought, I took a deep breath and began running toward the edge.  I jumped as high as I could and tucked as tightly as possible.  I saw the world spinning around me.  Shades of blue and green and everything in between blurred past me.  I could sense that something was wrong. I was spinning too much. It wasn’t until I hit the water face-first that I regained my orientation.   The hardness of the water’s surface slapped me back into reality.

  I stayed under water for a while, too ashamed to poke my head above.  Eventually, my lack of gills forced me to make my way to the top.   As I swam to the side of the pool, I noticed the clouds of blood my nose had made in the pool.  I couldn’t feel any pain though, my face was completely numb.  By the time I climbed out of the pool several lifeguards had ran over to me.   They bandaged up my nose and warned me to stay off the diving board.  My embarrassment wouldn’t have let me climb back up there anyway.  

I soon left the pool; crownless, defeated, and a little bloody.   My pride was somewhere in the bottom of the deep end.   My grandparents and anyone else that heard the story probably thought I was crazy.  Little do they know about the true rules of the pool.