Ultimate Sports by Donald R. Gallo

Author:Donald R. Gallo [Gallo, Donald R.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-0-307-56843-4
Publisher: Random House Children's Books
Published: 1995-08-26T04:00:00+00:00

We had each signed it in marker, ten runners and Danny.

Bobby D saw me as soon as I started to walk up. “My man! My man!” he shouted, like a big-city hipster. “Now The Assault can begin!” He held out his fists for me to slap.

“How you doing, Bobby D?” I asked. “You got all the media here?”

We had given him that job, and he and his dad, who ran a restaurant in town and knew lots of reporters, had spent days on the phone. I doubted anyone would come. I mean, we were only ten high-school kids running around a track. It couldn’t be that slow a news day, could it?

He nodded with his usual smug look. “At least two TV stations, and the paper is sending a photographer.” A wide grin split his face.

“No CNN, huh?” I shook my head. “Pm disappointed, Bobby D. Disappointed.”

“Some damn summit in Geneva,” he said. “I don’t know what the big deal is. But, you know, I wonder if we did this like a walkathon—you know, pledge so many dollars for each mile, raise money for starving kids or homeless shelters or some other crap—I think we could get them. I thought about delaying the whole thing a week, but then I thought, ah, the guys are ready; I don’t want to let them down. Besides, my dad’s gonna videotape a lot of it. He’ll be able to sell the tape to CNN for millions. You know how much that guy got for taping that beating in L.A.? We could all go to college, thanks to this.”

I patted him on the shoulder. “Good, Bobby D. Get me a dorm room with cable and a view.” I walked away. I wondered how much of his hype was real. TV camera crews? For us?

Luther arrived with three pairs of shoes—long spikes, short spikes, and sneakers. Feldman was rubbing sunscreen on his legs and arms. Danny was lecturing to a group on the closest comparable races that he had discovered. He had posted a notice on an Internet bulletin board and people everywhere were now aware of it.

I pulled Danny aside. “Why’d you announce our race like that,” I asked, “before we even do it? What if someone sets the record before we do?”

He looked up at me and smiled. “No one would set this record but you, Curt,” he said. “No one’s crazy enough!”

Danny had a starter’s gun in a leather bag. It looked like the real thing. He pulled it out of the bag, slipped in the blanks, and held it down as if it were loaded with slugs. Everyone gathered around the starting line. Andy was ready, with a big paper “1” pinned to the front of his running jersey. A picture of a cow cut out of a magazine peeked around the side of his number. Andy scowled for the video cameras four of the parents held, but redheads with freckles have a hard time looking tough.

“Are you ready for the start of The Assault on the Record?” shouted Danny.

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