Cucumber Cool

 

Cool as a cucumber, was Carl, always had been. Well, at least since high school, roughly the age where competitive matches started to have consequences.

 

The first time was the high school baseball playoffs for Mount Shasta High, his hometown in very northern California. The proverbial maximum clutch opportunity with two outs in the 9^thinning, two men on base, down by two runs, and here came Carl striding coolly to the plate.

 

He took the first pitch because its movement was unusual. The ball seemed to float to the plate as if in slow motion. Strike one. Second pitch, and again it appeared to be in slow motion as if the game had slowed down. Strike two. With this Carl smiled. He didn’t know what was going on, or rather, why it was going on, but he liked it. The third pitch and, he correctly surmised, his brain had piqued helping him thrive in the clutch. He was ready for this new perspective. He said afterward to the local reporter of the Mount Shasta Herald that the baseball looked as big as a beach ball. That was the pitch he hit over the centerfield fence. His walk-off game-winning three-run homer won the game. The youngster rounded the bases, smiling, victory was at his feet.

 

Then there was the high school basketball game. With six seconds to play, Carl’s team trailed by one and coach called a Timeout to strategize and draw up a play for a chance to win, a quality last shot. During the team huddle a brief musical vignette played over the loudspeakers. While coach called the play, Carl’s feet were tapping to the beat and his body started to move in rhythm to the music. Damn it he was cool, this guy. The game was on the line and he was grooving. The team took the floor, inbounds the ball, pass to Carl, and he took a jump shot from 15 feet, drilled it. Nothing but net, as the saying goes, and he headed off the court as if there had been no pressure and no possible outcome but a basket at the buzzer for the win. 

 

Captain Clutch, they called him. It held up through his senior year and into college. Didn’t matter the sport or scenario. The tighter the circumstances all eyeballs would turn to him to see what would happen next. And usually to favorable effect.

 

Professionally he strayed from the glories of the ball field and hoops court. But Captain Clutch continued his heroic antics. Whether a contract negotiation or a blind department audit, he had the right answer, the proper quip, or the correct action plan-audible. Unflappable was a term for which he uniquely personified.

 

The boss walked into his office one afternoon asking for an important report. There was so much riding on it and two days beforedeadline here comes the boss pining for it to keep some doubt or query at bay. Two days early the report, understandably, wasn’t ready to go, but there’s Captain Clutch taking the helm. He’d rattle off key statistics gathered during his prep work, talk down the boss’ concerns, retain the deadline and emerge three minutes later walking the boss out of his office. By then they were just milling about talking about the local ball club’s game that evening. Concerns quelled and cool reigned.

 

How’d he do it? How’d he almost always get it done? Such queries were lobbed at him every so often and deftly fielded like an easy two-hop bouncer he’d glove to start an uncontested double play. An easy tip-in basket off a rebound. But he didn’t know how. He just did.

 

It was years later, a medical practice where people’s heart rate and blood pressure were tested. Some kind of medical protocol offered through work, a new wrinkle added to an annual physical. It first recorded measurements under normal conditions, then a second reading under stress. As would be expected, all numbers rose sharply when under duress. Well, all except one. Carl’s numbers inexplicably went in the other direction! His numbers slowed down when under stress. The Captain Clutch moniker of so many years ago had proven entirely befitting of this one. When under stress his surroundings slowed down while his brain continued to operate at regular speed. Cool as a cucumber. It’s just the way his momma made him.

 

 

[Inspired by Ad Astra, a movie starring Brad Pitt, plus that high school basketball game in Shasta and a lifetime of admiring clutch sports performances. Also, my friend Hal who really is cool as a cucumber. wdk 11/2020]