The Brothers Kenney by Adam Mitzner

Author:Adam Mitzner [Mitzner, Adam]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Blackstone Publishing

18

Upon entering East Carlisle High School, visitors passed in front of the school’s Wall of Fame, which was little more than a trophy display case. Back when I was a student, front and center sat a picture of my father along with the rest of the ’79 East Carlisle Bears, on a plaque denoting they were New Jersey state champions.

Whenever Dad had to show up at the high school, for parent-teacher conferences or some assembly, he almost always made some reference to it. But even when he didn’t say a word, he never walked by the damn thing without looking at it, like a beauty queen who couldn’t pass a mirror without admiring her reflection.

Dad’s team photo was now relegated to the very back. In the place of honor was a different wooden plaque, one etched with gold letters that proclaimed:

New Jersey State Champion

Boys 1600 Meters

Sean T. Kenney

East Carlisle High School

Beside it was a photograph of me crossing the finish line. My white shirt and green shorts amid a cloudless blue sky.

The photo wasn’t taken at that state meet, however. It was on the ECHS field, and I was reasonably sure it was from the first meet of my junior year. That was the day that I broke the school record for the 1600 meters. Kick’s record.

I called Kick that night to tell him that I’d beaten his best time.

“Times are for suckers,” he’d said. “What matters is who finishes first when you’re running head-to-head. Until you beat me on the track, you’ll always be second-best, little brother.”

I knew he meant it good-naturedly, which was enforced every time he refused to grant me a rematch. “I run 1500 meters now,” he’d say, because in college and the Olympics that was the metric mile, while high schoolers ran 1600 meters for some reason. “I mean, if you want to race where I do 1500 and you do 1600, okay, but even though you’re fast, I don’t think you’re that fast.”

The truth was that there came a time when I could have spotted Kick the hundred meters and still beaten him. Kick was a very good runner—good enough to secure a spot at Rutgers, just as Coach Pal had predicted—but I was an elite runner, such that anything short of the Olympics was a failure.

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