A rebellious college student is the surprise winner of a trophy honoring the Woman Athlete of the Year. She tries to win over a crowd of rivals, jealous classmates, and disapproving officials in an inspiring acceptance speech.
The moment Sara Murphy heard her name announced as Woman Athlete of the Year, she was pleasantly stunned. She stood up amid the jubilant cheers of her schoolmates, and made her way to the podium where Judson Beatty, Athletic Director and football coach, prepared to present her with the award. As she tried to connect with Beatty’s normally unfriendly gaze, she found her vision blurred by spontaneous tears. Blinking them back, she recovered her more customary ironic grin.
Certainly, she felt no false modesty on this occasion. She knew she deserved this honor, and she hoped the majority of onlookers agreed. Hadn’t she performed more than her share of heroics in three varsity sports throughout her four years at Glendary College? And hadn’t she capped off that respectable career last week with an upset gold medal performance in gymnastics against the powerhouse Maryland State?
Hell, yes, she had earned the right to hold this cumbersome silver cup over her head in a victory pose. If she felt surprise, it was only because she never thought old Beatty would allow his Department to honor a suspect character like her. He was, after all, part of the same administration that had booted her musician brother out of college two years before, for playing rock and roll too long and too loud in the dorms. What galled Beatty most, no doubt, was the way Jake Murphy had thrown over his own sports career for music. Beatty had kept an especially sharp eye on his younger sister ever since, as if he wouldn’t mind punishing Sara for her brother’s transgressions.
“Coach Beatty … honored assistant coaches and teammates … fellow students … I really don’t have words to express how much this award means to me.” A loud snicker went through the crowd, probably at the idea of Sara Murphy at a loss for words. She laughed, then proceeded, “Actually, this award means I might have a prayer of graduating from this fine college. Even the most blowhard administration wouldn’t hand someone a prestigious award one day and can her the next. Right, Coach Beatty?” She winked at the chiseled face, eliciting only the briefest smile in return.
You old hypocrite, she thought. You’d have no problem using your influence to bounce me out of school on some trumped-up charge if I wasn’t one of your most talented athletes. Although you must realize it’d make you look ridiculous to expel another prominent student, especially the sister of the previous one. Still, I can see this is causing you real pain. You’re gritting your teeth, as if recalling that pounding, curfew-shattering music that eventually made Jake so rich.
“My heartiest thanks, of course, must go to Assistant Coach Joan Mueller, who had enough courage and faith to let me attempt not one, but two aerial tricks in my balance beam routine. I don’t know if she really believed I would hit them when it came to the test, especially after the falls our team had suffered that day. When she told me to go for it … that I was her last hope … she made me believe I could do something that nobody else had done.”
She basked in the maternal smile of Coach Mueller, who was sitting in the front row. There was no question Mueller had wanted Sara to win, if only to prove that even a notorious late-night reveler could be molded into a winner … given the right coach.
“In fact, all through my routine I could feel the eyes of whole student body following me, willing me to stay on the beam.” How true was this, really? Heaven knew she had collected her share of detractors on campus. She glanced around the room in search of telltale expressions that might betray someone who had secretly hoped she’d fail. She focused on the artfully made-up, beauty-queen face of her roommate, Emily Palmer, who had videotaped the meet as part of a drama department project. Interesting that Emily was sitting near the back of the room, next to Annie Henry, the number two star on the gymnastics team.
Moments before mounting the beam, Sara had seen Emily grimace behind her hand-held camera. She would bet anything that Emily had hoped for a messy fall … a far more dramatic scene for her video than a competent routine. Better still if Emily’s buddy, the second best gymnast, had risen up and eclipsed the established star. But those two were smiling and applauding Sara as if jealous thoughts had never entered their minds.
Sara’s gaze shifted back to the Athletic Director. It obviously bothered him to admit she was the best woman athlete, but he had nevertheless managed it. Maybe she should reward that concession by giving him some credit for her success.
“Of course, we shouldn’t fail to celebrate Coach Beatty’s vision, which enabled our small-town college to compete in the big leagues, so to speak. Coach, you have been the driving force behind the upgrading of our athletic programs. Thanks to you, we had the courage to take on Maryland State, first in football last autumn, and then in gymnastics this spring. It was exhilarating, getting that close to the big time … and considering the competition, one win out of two wasn’t bad.”
This time, the dignified Coach Beatty betrayed not a glimmer of a smile. He stood like a statue, arms folded against his ex-athlete’s paunch. Arrogant fool, she thought. You almost got our football players killed with your delusions of grandeur. No way could our guys stand up to those State bruisers. Look what happened to our star running back, who happens to be the man I love. He sustained a torn-up knee and a dangerous concussion, all in one brutal tackle. No thanks to you, he’s here today, grinning at me with his usual delectable charm, still wearing a knee brace but standing straight and tall again.
“I can’t say I blame you, Coach Beatty, for being disappointed that our football team lost to State. I subscribe to the popular belief that if only Jim Guthrie hadn’t been injured in the first quarter, the result would have been entirely different. Right, guys?” She smiled at Jim, who was nodding his curly head in agreement, and at several of his teammates, who were making similar gestures. But the Coach still looked grim.
Enough with this personal vendetta, she thought. “I’ve heard rumors that you partly blame me for that loss, Coach, because I kept Jim out late partying the night before. But you should know, a little partying never hurt a healthy athlete.” A murmur of agreement rose up from her classmates. Beatty eyed her as if she had confessed to a crime.
“It’s not like I waged a campaign to corrupt your star running back, you know. Jim wasn’t the only player who partied late that night, and I wasn’t the only girl who was hanging out with the guys, drinking and dancing past curfew. In fact … as long as I’m going down this honesty track … you might as well know I wasn’t even the only chick trying to seduce Jim.” She paused and cast a stern glance around the room, causing players to squirm and their hangers-on to giggle nervously.
Her grimace gave way to a grin. “I had to fight for Jim … literally.”
She let that sink in, and then continued, “Anyway, Coach, I’m living proof that partying doesn’t preclude victory. It so happens there was also a party the night before the gymnastics meet. It also so happens I saw several of my teammates at that event … and I could name names. But don’t worry, girls, I won’t.”
Still, she couldn’t help glancing at Annie’s beet-red face. Yes, dear Coach, she gloated inwardly, even your precious Annie, your personal favorite, has been known to break curfew once in a while. Wasn’t she the girl you tried to force Mueller to elevate to the number one spot ahead of me? If you had prevailed, she would’ve been the last one up on the balance beam … and if the last gymnast up had fallen, there’s no way we would’ve won that meet. Try to remember who handled the pressure that day and who didn’t.
“If you ask me, Coach, we should have parties the night before every big game or meet. Speaking for myself, it was just the thing to relax me. I ask you, what could have been more inspiring than dancing with my boyfriend to the lovely, if raucous tunes of my brother’s hit album? He and his band may have been banished from this campus … and I believe you had something to do with that … but his influence will never disappear.”
Sara paused as she felt the discomfort level in the room rising. Jim ran his huge hands through his hair and shuffled his feet, while several teammates of his, regulars at those illicit parties, did likewise. More disconcertingly, she observed Annie and Emily eyeing one another, as if they had something on her … although not on videotape, she hoped.
Maybe those two were remembering that moment at the latest party when she had broken up Annie’s slow-dance with Jim. She glared at the innocent-looking siren from high atop the podium, self-justifications filling her head. Annie must have known that she was poaching on Sara’s territory. That didn’t mean a little flirtation on the dance floor was taboo, but Sara had noticed the sensuous explorations of Annie’s hands. Who could blame her for pulling Annie away from Jim, and twisting her arm for good measure?
Sara bestowed her most ironic grin on her fiercest rival. Listen, dear, she challenged silently, if you think that’s the reason you fell at the meet, why don’t you step up here and say so? Tell the whole world I sprained your arm on purpose the night before, and that’s how I beat you. Sure, people will laugh at you and call you a bad sport … but it might start them speculating. God, what if it’s a little bit true ?
This startling thought shook her pride. She knew she was a better gymnast than Annie, injured or not; she was certain she had never meant to hurt the little slut. To forestall further reflection, she blurted: “Listen, Annie, why don’t you join me up here?”
The entire assembly looked flabbergasted, but Sara realized at once that she meant it. She beckoned Annie, and refused to say another word until the bewildered girl joined her at the podium.
“Do me a favor, dear. Pick up that cup and hold it over your head, like I did earlier.”
Annie tried to lift the cup off the podium, but set it down with a gasp. “I can’t. It hurts my arm.”
“I’m sorry. Let me help.” Sara hoisted the cup and placed it carefully in Annie’s hand, supporting most of its weight herself. The two of them posed before the crowd, balancing the prize between them.
“Observe us for a moment, sports fans,” Sara proclaimed. “This is the way it should be. Aren’t we all in this together? Why should the Woman Athlete of the Year award belong to just one woman?”
She cast a penetrating glance through the audience, and then resumed: “What I’m trying to say is that every Glendary athlete owns a piece of this cup. When we get to the reception after the ceremony, I’m going to decree that every one of you gets to hold this monstrosity aloft for a minute. That, my friends, is the way to demonstrate our solidarity.”
Applause thundered as Sara expanded, “And since the subject has been raised, I might as well point out one of the deeper meanings behind my brother’s music … something our elders don’t seem to understand. I know you kids still love to play his album at every party, and sometimes you dance to it well past curfew. And there are times when those racy love songs of his make you do flaky things.” She could almost feel the heat of Annie’s face as it undoubtedly turned an even deeper shade of red than before.
“But Jake’s ultimate message is that youth must stick together, no matter what. So, in that spirit, I say let’s celebrate as one victorious team!”
Sara thrust the cup forward as if for a toast, making Annie gasp again. She felt inspired and totally sincere. The coaches glanced at one another and shrugged, while most of her younger listeners rose to their feet and screamed with jubilation. Everyone seemed to foresee that Sara’s gesture would pass into campus legend as the most inspiring example of sportsmanship they had ever witnessed.
Now that was small-town college [high school?] drama at its best! As I read I could see all of the behind the scenes intensity of rivalry among athletes on teams across the country. But this one had a particularly feminine twist to it, especially when it came to snaring the star quarterback… Always the object of romance in any school. The best breeding stock?
I believe there actually have been tell-all speeches like this by young people who have found their idealism shattered by the ins and outs of fortune and fame. And there may have been sports heroes who shared their accolades with their teammates, as well. But I found, in general, the bitter nature of Sara's speech to be less than sportsmanlike. But I come from an era where sportsmanship was about how you played the game, not how you shared trophies.
If only there were more like Sara Murphy--keeping things balanced and leveling the playing field through a victory speech, where everyone got their due.
Hearts of Gold
Synopsis
by
Frank P. Whyte
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