by Charlie T.
Mexico City, October 17, 1968
This is the hottest 200 meter field ever assembled at the Olympic Games.
Second attempt now to get them away.
Peter Norman did get a good start, I thought. Smith is doing well, and Questad is standing up okay.
Look at Carlos go in the center of the field, and Questad is not beaten by any means.
Peter Norman running beautifully, and he’s got them ahead.
Heading into the 100 meters, Peter Norman is flying on the outside.
Here comes Eigenherr of West Germany. He’s a threat. So too is of the Trinitarian Roberts.
In the center of the field is Tommie Smith, running through. Peter Norman second place.
Smith pulled past them all, couldn’t have pulled it that badly. He beat John Carlos, and Peter Norman could have run a second place.
Alexandria Virginia, October 17, 1968
John watched an African American woman and man come out of a moving van. They opened the back and started carrying boxes to a house with a For Sale sign as an African American child followed them.
John’s mom looked out the window and asked, “Are those the movers?”
John’s dad ignored her, but John ran over to the window and watched the African American family unpack boxes.
He watched them pick up a couch, but then he saw the boy looking at him. Quickly, John ran up to his room. He stayed there, while Mrs. Smith screamed and dropped a box of cookies, and Mr. Johnson knocked on their door and started to whisper to his parents, and even when a car of high school kids threw a brick through their new neighbors’ window. John only came out of his room when his Mom told him he had to go to track practice.
The whole practice, he couldn’t stop thinking about his new neighbor. Even at the end, when the coach told them that they had one more 200 meter sprint. John and his friend Will started in the first two lanes. He heard the coach shout, and he started to sprint.
Will passed everyone, but suddenly, and African American boy caught up with him and raced by him.
The coach yelled, “Nice job! What’s your name?”
The African American boy looked down and said, “Cecil.”
Will glared at him and whispered to John, “Who is that?”
John shrugged, but didn’t answer, because he knew who he was.
His friends was upset at the African American boy across the street from him.
When John’s mom picked him up at practice, John ran into the car and hid from Cecil.
“We are having a guest for dinner,” she said.
“Who is it?” asked John.
“We invited our new neighbors over today,” she said, and pursed her lips. John’s mom glared out the window. “Your father wanted to meet them.”
When Cecil and his parents came over, John’s dad said hello to them while John and his mom stood and watched them. Finally, John’s dad told him that he should hang out with Cecil.
John stared at Cecil, and was afraid to talk, until finally Cecil asked, “Do you want to go outside?”
John nodded and followed him out his door.
John stared at Cecil across his lawn while his dad’s outline moved on the window shades outside. Cecil started back at him, but turned around and walked away.
“Wait! Come on, Cecil!” John yelled, and when Cecil did not turn around, he ran after him. When he finally caught up, he glared at him. “What the heck, man? I’ll get in trouble, you stupid n--”
Before he could finish the word, a fist connected with his jaw. “What the were you--” John tried to finish, but Cecil clamped a hand on John’s mouth and dragged him under a bush. John tried to scream and get away from Cecil, but Cecil whispered in his ear, “Shut up, John!”
John squinted as two bright lights shined into his eyes. Suddenly, he heard a window break, and Cecil let go of him. He began to scream as loud as he could and ran home.
John sat at his table as his dad and mom looked at him. His mom was shocked and upset, while his dad was disappointed and angry.
“Why did he do it?” John’s dad asked.
“I don’t know,” said John, but he knew it was a lie. He knew two reasons why he had done it.
John’s mom sighed and said, “This is why we worried about them moving next to us. We can’t live next to people who let their kids act like this.”
John looked away from his mom and toward his dad, who glared at him.
“Why did he do it?” John’s dad snapped.
“Why are you upset at me? He...” John paused, and was overwhelmed with anger. ”He beat me up!”
“But why did he do that, John? Cecil is not a mean kid.”
John wanted to scream at his dad, but he didn’t. He held his anger and went to his room.
Later that night, John put on a pair of dark jeans and a black sweatshirt. Then he waited outside his parents’ door. When he heard them both snoring, he walked downstairs and grabbed a carton of eggs from the refrigerator. John put two eggs in his pockets, and jogged quietly onto his neighbors’ porch. He grabbed an egg from his pocket, but suddenly he heard a bang and squeezed the egg so hard it cracked. The people in the car were back, and they had a gun. And John was dressed all in black.
“Why are you in this neighborhood, you--” The slurred words were broken up by another gunshot.
“Get inside!” Cecil’s mom yelled at John while she opened the door to see what happened, and pulled him inside of their house. Cecil and his dad stared at John in their pajamas, while John tried to hide against the wall and ignore the slurred words yelled behind him.
“Come on,” said Cecil sighed to John. “I’ll show you my room.”
Even in his pajamas after midnight, Cecil made John feel the worst he had ever felt.
The next day, John stared at his wall. Even though his parents were out, he remembered what they had said. Do extra chores, no TV for the rest of the month, and most of all, do not leave the house. But John could not stop thinking about what had happened. He walked around the house and tried to stop thinking about how guilty he felt. “He’s just a--” No. John looked up and found he was staring at a mirror. Staring at himself. Half of his face was covered in a shadow from the doorway, while half of his face was lit up by the light bulb above the sink. John turned his head toward the doorway and back to his room, but stopped and watched the light cover his face as he turned to his left and headed out the door.
John breathed deeply and felt his palms get wet. His face was red, and his foot began to tap quickly on the ground. But he took a deep breath and knocked on the door. Cecil’s mom answered and pursed her lips as she looked at John.
John felt a bead of sweat go down his back, but he blurted out, “Can I speak to Cecil?”
Cecil’s mom looked at him disapprovingly, but turned and went up the stairs to Cecil’s room.
When Cecil came down the stairs, he gave John a tired look, but waited for him to speak.
John closed his eyes, then sighed and said, “I’m so sorry, Cecil.”
“It’s okay,” said Cecil in a quiet voice.
“Would you like to talk?”
Cecil looked at him, then sighed. “Sure.”
John and Cecil talked. They talked about track, school, and the neighborhood. Suddenly, John realized that Cecil wasn’t mean or stupid. He was a normal person like him, and John saw that he had been wrong. Cecil was his friend.
The next day, John was excited for his track practice. He raced through breakfast, and ignored the newspaper picturing two African Americans raising their hands on the medal podium. John asked his mom if he could walk to practice instead of drive with her, and he waited for Cecil. He and Cecil walked to the track, and Cecil joked and talked about salutes, Olympics and other things that confused John, while John nodded and pretended to understand. When they got to the track, John split up from Cecil and stood with his friends.
At the end of practice, the coach shouted for everyone to run one more 200 meter sprint. Will started off the best, but at the end, Cecil ran past him and won easily. But when Cecil ran through the finish line, instead of slowing down, he sprinted another 100 meters and raised his fist in the air.
Will glared at Cecil, and whispered, “That filthy n--”
“All right, everyone!” the coach, who pretended to ignore Cecil, yelled. “Practice is over. Get ready for our meet next week.”
When John started to walk home with Cecil, Will stopped him.
“Are you really going back with that guy, John?”
John looked at Cecil and then at Will, then walked toward Will. “No.”
“Yeah, go back to Africa,” Will laughed, and when all of Will’s friends laughed, John was relieved that they were not laughing at him, so he laughed with them. Cecil glared at John, and then turned and walked back to his house.
“You want to come with us, John?” Will asked.
John stared at Will blankley. “No. I have to go home.”
John watched Will leave, and then sprinted back to his neighborhood.
John ran down the road, trying to keep away from Will and hide from Cecil. When he turned to go to his house, he slipped on the sidewalk and dropped his backpack. He bent down to pick it up, but he saw someone standing in front of him. Cecil picked up John’s backpack and glared at his feet. John tried to say sorry, but the word was caught in his throat. Cecil shoved the backpack into John’s chest so hard he stumbled backwards. Cecil turned and walked back to his house. John stood still, and he knew that even though they hadn’t said anything, their friendship was over.
The next day, John stayed in his room and read True Grit. He didn’t do anything, and he did not hang out with Will. He only left when he had to go to track practice.
John watched Cecil walk onto the track while he talked with Will. He could not breathe or move. He kept his head down and looked and his sneakers. Will pushed him in the arm, but he didn’t look up. John felt his face turn red. He saw Cecil look at him, and then turn around.
“Hey, I can’t believe we let that kid join the team. You’re just a--”
“Stop it, Will!” John yelled, and pushed Will backwards. Will stared at him, and then laughed.
“I can’t believe that you’re--”
John turned and walked over to Cecil.
This is the hottest 200 meter field ever assembled at the Olympic Games.
Second attempt now to get them away.
 |
| The victors give the Black Power salute |
Look at Carlos go in the center of the field, and Questad is not beaten by any means.
Peter Norman running beautifully, and he’s got them ahead.
Heading into the 100 meters, Peter Norman is flying on the outside.
Here comes Eigenherr of West Germany. He’s a threat. So too is of the Trinitarian Roberts.
In the center of the field is Tommie Smith, running through. Peter Norman second place.
Smith pulled past them all, couldn’t have pulled it that badly. He beat John Carlos, and Peter Norman could have run a second place.
Alexandria Virginia, October 17, 1968
John watched an African American woman and man come out of a moving van. They opened the back and started carrying boxes to a house with a For Sale sign as an African American child followed them.
John’s mom looked out the window and asked, “Are those the movers?”
John’s dad ignored her, but John ran over to the window and watched the African American family unpack boxes.
He watched them pick up a couch, but then he saw the boy looking at him. Quickly, John ran up to his room. He stayed there, while Mrs. Smith screamed and dropped a box of cookies, and Mr. Johnson knocked on their door and started to whisper to his parents, and even when a car of high school kids threw a brick through their new neighbors’ window. John only came out of his room when his Mom told him he had to go to track practice.
The whole practice, he couldn’t stop thinking about his new neighbor. Even at the end, when the coach told them that they had one more 200 meter sprint. John and his friend Will started in the first two lanes. He heard the coach shout, and he started to sprint.
Will passed everyone, but suddenly, and African American boy caught up with him and raced by him.
The coach yelled, “Nice job! What’s your name?”
The African American boy looked down and said, “Cecil.”
Will glared at him and whispered to John, “Who is that?”
John shrugged, but didn’t answer, because he knew who he was.
His friends was upset at the African American boy across the street from him.
When John’s mom picked him up at practice, John ran into the car and hid from Cecil.
“We are having a guest for dinner,” she said.
“Who is it?” asked John.
“We invited our new neighbors over today,” she said, and pursed her lips. John’s mom glared out the window. “Your father wanted to meet them.”
When Cecil and his parents came over, John’s dad said hello to them while John and his mom stood and watched them. Finally, John’s dad told him that he should hang out with Cecil.
John stared at Cecil, and was afraid to talk, until finally Cecil asked, “Do you want to go outside?”
John nodded and followed him out his door.
John stared at Cecil across his lawn while his dad’s outline moved on the window shades outside. Cecil started back at him, but turned around and walked away.
“Wait! Come on, Cecil!” John yelled, and when Cecil did not turn around, he ran after him. When he finally caught up, he glared at him. “What the heck, man? I’ll get in trouble, you stupid n--”
Before he could finish the word, a fist connected with his jaw. “What the were you--” John tried to finish, but Cecil clamped a hand on John’s mouth and dragged him under a bush. John tried to scream and get away from Cecil, but Cecil whispered in his ear, “Shut up, John!”
John squinted as two bright lights shined into his eyes. Suddenly, he heard a window break, and Cecil let go of him. He began to scream as loud as he could and ran home.
John sat at his table as his dad and mom looked at him. His mom was shocked and upset, while his dad was disappointed and angry.
“Why did he do it?” John’s dad asked.
“I don’t know,” said John, but he knew it was a lie. He knew two reasons why he had done it.
John’s mom sighed and said, “This is why we worried about them moving next to us. We can’t live next to people who let their kids act like this.”
John looked away from his mom and toward his dad, who glared at him.
“Why did he do it?” John’s dad snapped.
“Why are you upset at me? He...” John paused, and was overwhelmed with anger. ”He beat me up!”
“But why did he do that, John? Cecil is not a mean kid.”
John wanted to scream at his dad, but he didn’t. He held his anger and went to his room.
Later that night, John put on a pair of dark jeans and a black sweatshirt. Then he waited outside his parents’ door. When he heard them both snoring, he walked downstairs and grabbed a carton of eggs from the refrigerator. John put two eggs in his pockets, and jogged quietly onto his neighbors’ porch. He grabbed an egg from his pocket, but suddenly he heard a bang and squeezed the egg so hard it cracked. The people in the car were back, and they had a gun. And John was dressed all in black.
“Why are you in this neighborhood, you--” The slurred words were broken up by another gunshot.
“Get inside!” Cecil’s mom yelled at John while she opened the door to see what happened, and pulled him inside of their house. Cecil and his dad stared at John in their pajamas, while John tried to hide against the wall and ignore the slurred words yelled behind him.
“Come on,” said Cecil sighed to John. “I’ll show you my room.”
Even in his pajamas after midnight, Cecil made John feel the worst he had ever felt.
The next day, John stared at his wall. Even though his parents were out, he remembered what they had said. Do extra chores, no TV for the rest of the month, and most of all, do not leave the house. But John could not stop thinking about what had happened. He walked around the house and tried to stop thinking about how guilty he felt. “He’s just a--” No. John looked up and found he was staring at a mirror. Staring at himself. Half of his face was covered in a shadow from the doorway, while half of his face was lit up by the light bulb above the sink. John turned his head toward the doorway and back to his room, but stopped and watched the light cover his face as he turned to his left and headed out the door.
John breathed deeply and felt his palms get wet. His face was red, and his foot began to tap quickly on the ground. But he took a deep breath and knocked on the door. Cecil’s mom answered and pursed her lips as she looked at John.
John felt a bead of sweat go down his back, but he blurted out, “Can I speak to Cecil?”
Cecil’s mom looked at him disapprovingly, but turned and went up the stairs to Cecil’s room.
When Cecil came down the stairs, he gave John a tired look, but waited for him to speak.
John closed his eyes, then sighed and said, “I’m so sorry, Cecil.”
“It’s okay,” said Cecil in a quiet voice.
“Would you like to talk?”
Cecil looked at him, then sighed. “Sure.”
John and Cecil talked. They talked about track, school, and the neighborhood. Suddenly, John realized that Cecil wasn’t mean or stupid. He was a normal person like him, and John saw that he had been wrong. Cecil was his friend.
The next day, John was excited for his track practice. He raced through breakfast, and ignored the newspaper picturing two African Americans raising their hands on the medal podium. John asked his mom if he could walk to practice instead of drive with her, and he waited for Cecil. He and Cecil walked to the track, and Cecil joked and talked about salutes, Olympics and other things that confused John, while John nodded and pretended to understand. When they got to the track, John split up from Cecil and stood with his friends.
Will glared at Cecil, and whispered, “That filthy n--”
“All right, everyone!” the coach, who pretended to ignore Cecil, yelled. “Practice is over. Get ready for our meet next week.”
When John started to walk home with Cecil, Will stopped him.
“Are you really going back with that guy, John?”
John looked at Cecil and then at Will, then walked toward Will. “No.”
“Yeah, go back to Africa,” Will laughed, and when all of Will’s friends laughed, John was relieved that they were not laughing at him, so he laughed with them. Cecil glared at John, and then turned and walked back to his house.
“You want to come with us, John?” Will asked.
John stared at Will blankley. “No. I have to go home.”
John watched Will leave, and then sprinted back to his neighborhood.
John ran down the road, trying to keep away from Will and hide from Cecil. When he turned to go to his house, he slipped on the sidewalk and dropped his backpack. He bent down to pick it up, but he saw someone standing in front of him. Cecil picked up John’s backpack and glared at his feet. John tried to say sorry, but the word was caught in his throat. Cecil shoved the backpack into John’s chest so hard he stumbled backwards. Cecil turned and walked back to his house. John stood still, and he knew that even though they hadn’t said anything, their friendship was over.
The next day, John stayed in his room and read True Grit. He didn’t do anything, and he did not hang out with Will. He only left when he had to go to track practice.
John watched Cecil walk onto the track while he talked with Will. He could not breathe or move. He kept his head down and looked and his sneakers. Will pushed him in the arm, but he didn’t look up. John felt his face turn red. He saw Cecil look at him, and then turn around.
“Hey, I can’t believe we let that kid join the team. You’re just a--”
“Stop it, Will!” John yelled, and pushed Will backwards. Will stared at him, and then laughed.
“I can’t believe that you’re--”
John turned and walked over to Cecil.
Wow, a powerful story, Charlie. I like the race relations aspect because that is what I wrote about too and you linked it well with the historical period and your short story.
ReplyDeleteThe ending was incredible. You did a great job making it powerful in the context of John choosing Cecil over Will, and now I'm actually feeling kind of outraged by the terrible injustice of Cecil's situation!
ReplyDelete-Elise