|
CHAPTER 2: "KING OF SPORT"
 By Jim Caple |
Previously at 24 College Avenue: Following a successful season at State College during which see placed third at the NCAA track championships, sprinter Nicollette Mayle is racing at meets in Europe....
Florence Whidbey leaned over and clinked her glass against Nicollette’s. “C’mon, Nicollette. You’ll get ‘em next time.’’
Nicollette nodded but she wasn’t so sure. She had raced so well during the NCAA season but everything was much different now that she was running against the best in the world on the European circuit. Now, she found herself losing heats and not reaching the finals. She entered the summer confident that she wasn’t that far from being good enough to make the 2008 Olympics. But now she realized how truly far she was from that goal.
The day’s race at Paris’s national stadium was another reminder of this. She finished next to last in her heat in the morning and had spent the rest of the day growing steadily depressed. Several other runners noticed this and insisted on taking Nicollette out to the Paris discos to take her mind off track for awhile. Their efforts hadn’t worked. Nicollette had been unable to think of anything else.
A waiter suddenly appeared with a bottle of Dom Perignom and set it on the table with two champagne flutes. “For Mademoiselle Mayle.’’
“I’m sorry, I didn’t order this,’’ Nicollette said. “And we certainly can’t afford to pay for it.’’
“It is a gift, mademoiselle, from His Most Serene Highness, Crown Prince Sa-eed of Mubai.’’
“From who?’’
“His Most Serene Highness, Crown Prince Sa-eed of Mubai,’’ a very large and elegantly dressed bodyguard said, parting the crowd as if he were Moses at the Red Sea. A dark-haired man impeccably dressed in a charcoal suit strode to the table and bowed slightly. He wore a State College tie pin.
“May I have the pleasure of joining you at your table, Ms. Mayle?’’ the Prince asked.
“Yeah, sure. Have a seat.’’
The Prince gave an ever so subtle glance to Whidbey and Chaminique Dubois. The two rose quickly. “What do you say, Chaminique?’’ Whidbey asked. “Want to see if we can find some dance partners?’’
The Prince did not even look at the two as they walked away from the table. He merely took a seat in the candlelit corner and raised a flute of champagne to his hips.
“My apologies for so rudely chasing off your friends, Ms. Mayle. But I most wanted to speak with you alone.’’
“It’s OK. It’s been a pretty crappy day anyway. You couldn’t ruin it anymore.’’
“Oh, but my plan is not to ruin your day at all, Ms. Mayle. Indeed, I hope you will find our conversation quite rewarding. Do you mind if I address you as Nicollette?’’
“Go ahead,’’ Nicollette said, drinking from her glass. “But how do you know who I am anyway, Your Excellent Highness or whatever it is I’m supposed to call you?’’
“Feel free to address me as Prince, it is easier that way,’’ Sa-eed said, relaxing slightly in his seat. “As to how I knew your name, I’m surprised you ask. I saw your spread in Maxim magazine.’’
Nicollette winced. Great, she thought. Just what I needed. Another pervert who wanted her to autograph their magazine, or worse – a pair of underwear.
“Yeah, how could I forget about that. Glad to know my photo is in bathrooms all over the world.’’
“My apologies,’’ the Prince said, lowering his head. “It is rude of me to bring up the photo. It’s just that I was struck by what you said in the accompanying text, about how you were proud of your body and felt comfortable using it to bring needed attention to your sport. That impressed me and I have been following your career closely, very closely, ever since. First, let met congratulate you on your exceptional college season. And I look forward to seeing you resume that success here in Europe soon.’’
Nicollette was impressed. The Prince had done his homework. Perhaps he was really a track fan and not just a fan of soft-core porn.
“Well, thanks for the compliment but I’m not sure that you’ll be seeing me win any races anytime soon.’’
“No, you must not say that. You must remain confident. We can do anything we set our minds to – we just need the will to achieve it. Be it don’t dream it. For instance. I have a goal myself. And I think you could help me achieve it.’’
He looked at her and arched his eyebrows. “Would you care to hear more?’’
Nicollette nodded. What did she have to lose?
“Good,’’ the Prince said, directing his valet to refill the champagne glasses. “You see, Nicollette, my small country has the richest per capita income in the world thanks to its fortuitous position atop one of the planet’s largest supplies of oil. We are one of the most technologically advanced nations in the world. And yet no one knows who we are. Mention my country in the western world and people assume we dress our women in burkas and bury our enemies to their necks in sand.’’
“And so?’’
“And so,’’ the Prince said, “I intend to change all that through sport. I am determined to make Mubai a worldwide tourist destination and make its name as synonymous with sports as Wimbledon, Pebble Beach or your own Yankee Stadium. We will be the athletic Mecca. Through sport we will gain the respect we deserve. I have personally invested $2 billion toward this goal so far. Mubai already hosts a prestigious golf tournament, as well as the richest purse in horse racing but that is only the beginning. I have a much loftier ambition.
“I would very much like my country to host the Olympics.’’
Nicollette laughed and took another sip of champagne. “Well, good luck bribing the right people in the IOC,’’ she said. “They might have a problem with the heat. I don’t know how running in 110 degree heat would work. I mean, I’m awful once it gets much above 85. Though maybe if you held the races at night, or I know, maybe during the winter, like when Melbourne hosted the 1956 Olympics. How much doe sit cool down in Mubai during the winter?’’
“You mistake me, Nicollette. I do not wish to host the summer Olympics. Oh, that would be fine but they don’t award the next host city for three years and I’m afraid I’m not a patient man – as several of my, err, former servants learned. No, my desire is to host the 2014 Winter Olympics.’’
Nicollette almost blew champagne out her nostrils. “The Winter Olympics? In the desert? That’s a good one.’’
“I’m not joking. In fact, I’m dead serious.’’
Looking into the Prince’s grey eyes, Nicollette could tell he wasn’t joking. “But how would you hold the winter Olympics without snow?’’
“Nicollette, I assure you, it is snowing in my country at this very moment. My engineers recently built an indoor slalom course, Mont Mubai. It may be 117 degrees outside the facility but inside, it is a constant 30 degrees with the finest powder this side of Park City. My ice arena recently hosted an exhibition game between the Montreal Canadiens and the Vancouver Canucks. Michelle Kwan and Sasha Cohen will headline a figure skating show next month. We’re currently building a complete indoor bobsled course.’’
Nicollette was almost speechless. It all sounded incredible and yet. . . . “But what about the downhill? I can see where maybe you could build a satisfactory slalom slope or even a bobsled track, but a downhill course would be impossible. You would need a building the height of the Empire State building and the size of the Pentagon.’’
The Prince gave her a confident, self-assured smile.
“So? The principle is the same regardless of the size. It’s simply a matter of will, engineering and air-conditioning. And, of course, money. And I have plenty of all four.
“And when the world sees that my country can turn the desert into the Alps, they will treat us with profound respect. They will look upon my country as a world leader not only in sport and oil but in technology and vision as well.’’
The plan was incredible, ridiculous and yet Nicollette found herself not only accepting it, but getting drawn into the possibilities. Perhaps it wasn’t so crazy. Perhaps sport could transform the Middle East. The president certainly wasn’t doing it.
“But you said you wanted me to help. How could I? I’m just a sprinter trying to run fast enough to qualify for the Olympics.’’
“That’s exactly what I want you to do for me. You see, I realize that my goal of hosting a Winter Olympics is, shall we say, pie in the sky. Oh, I will not stop until I reach that goal but in the meantime I have a second plan to shine the world’s spotlight on my country.’’
He motioned for his valet to refill Nicollette’s champagne flute. “Nicollette, as the Crown Prince of Mubai, I am empowered to bestow citizenship upon anyone I wish. And I plan to offer citizenship to athletes such as you. Wonderful athletes. Exceptional athletes. Athletes, who unfortunately may be borderline for making their national Olympic team due to the intense competition. I will grant them all citizenship and a guaranteed spot in the Olympics. Plus, an annual stipend of say, $100,000, to cover all manners of training expenses.
“Consider me a statue of sport, holding a beacon for athletes around the world. Bring me your poor, huddled athletes yearning to compete. And I will get them an Olympic medal.’’
The Prince set down his glass.
“What do you say, Nicollette Mayle? Would you like to go to the Olympics?’’
Next: “Draft Day’’
|
|
|
