The Sport

This past year has been crazy, and left me in much the same condition. Since this past downhill racing season began, I have not seen my son for more than a few days at a time. Every weekend is another race.  Last weekend was Kewlona, next weekend is Salt Spring, the weekend before last was Mt. Washington, and the weekend after next is Calgary. I think. 

May 14th, 2010 was marked on my Blackberry for weeks, and on the paper calendar for longer than that.  That was the day, 8am French time when we could finally register Wolf for Graveyard Call, the Biggest downhill event in France.  There are only 80 spots for down hill racers at this event as there are also downhill in-line skaters and street-luge racers.  Twenty spots had already been taken by priority riders, that being riders who have international ranking.  This meant that Wolf was competing for the remaining sixty spots.

Tonight, my son Wolf gasped--a happy and surprised sort of sound, from the couch across from me as he checked his email. He closed the lid and bolted to the phone. I didn't listen--very much. I heard a lot of thank yous.
Then he dance, skipped, twirled into the living room. "That was the best phone call in my whole life." His eyes, his face, his 'I just scored big time' arm crunch. 'That was Landy and they have a new board for me, and I don't have to pay for it and they want me to come into the shop to talk about putting me up on the factory team page.'