We could tell by the way he sat on his ass in his chair rather than pace around the pool deck stalking us as we swam. When Jim felt lazy, and if we had done well at the previous weekend’s meet, he’d allow us to play Sharks and Minnows for the last hour of practice. The game was not for relaxation. It was coach-sanctioned violence. We played aggressive, mean, and belligerent, the way you’d imagine hormonal teenagers with athletic bodies would play games involving grabbing a half-naked body in tight spandex.
