Your support makes Blue Moon possible (Patreon)Dan Sabatini grunted as the taxi sped off to the Olympic training facility. It had been a rough 24 hours, hopping planes across a couple of different continents. But when the opportunity came to coach for the Olympics, you boarded the first plane you could get. No matter how much it mucked with your personal life.
Of course, it was kind of a weird assignment. He was responsible for one swimmer only. Winner of a silver and a gold at the World Championships the year before. Now an afterthought on a good Olympic squad. The head coach had sounded defeated on the long distance call.
"Might be physical, might be psychological," he had said. "I've thrown all sorts of tests at her and I can't figure out what's the matter. Can you help?" Of course he could. He'd have to sublet his place, quit his job, maybe not have a job after the assignment was over. But it was the Olympics and he was over it. It might be his only shot.
The taxi came to a halt in front of the training facility. Dan got out and paid his fare, man of medium height and short-cropped brown hair going prematurely gray. He had retained his broad shoulders from his own swimming days and a reasonably tapered waist for a man in his mid-thirties; he did several kilometers in the pool when he could.
"Sabatini," he said, taking his identification card out for the security guy in front of the facility. "I'm expected."
Of course, it was kind of a weird assignment. He was responsible for one swimmer only. Winner of a silver and a gold at the World Championships the year before. Now an afterthought on a good Olympic squad. The head coach had sounded defeated on the long distance call.
"Might be physical, might be psychological," he had said. "I've thrown all sorts of tests at her and I can't figure out what's the matter. Can you help?" Of course he could. He'd have to sublet his place, quit his job, maybe not have a job after the assignment was over. But it was the Olympics and he was over it. It might be his only shot.
The taxi came to a halt in front of the training facility. Dan got out and paid his fare, man of medium height and short-cropped brown hair going prematurely gray. He had retained his broad shoulders from his own swimming days and a reasonably tapered waist for a man in his mid-thirties; he did several kilometers in the pool when he could.
"Sabatini," he said, taking his identification card out for the security guy in front of the facility. "I'm expected."