Equipment Rep
Trains with every piece of equipment available at all times.
The Luddite
Trains with nothing. Only uses a loin cloth and goggles in workout.
The Barnacle
Leaves right on your feet. Couldn't count to five or ten if his life depnded on it.
The Coach
Not an actual coach, but someone who is consumed with technique. Swimming is a precise set of moves that can be broken down, categorized, and scientifically analyzed.
The Jaded
Could care less about technique. Just wants to swim and leave the analysis to the eggheads.
The Swimaholic
Trains at least 10 swimming workouts a week. Anything less is viewed as not trying.
Fast Guy who Never Trains
Shows up once a month and breaks national records in practice.
Hardest Working Man in the Swim Business
Trains like a ferocious animal in workout, but has no speed when it comes to racing.
Lane Guy
Works out in a lane that is far too fast or slow for him.
The Crack Guy
Dude, pull your swimsuit up or get a bigger size.
The Newbie
Shows up to practice in board shorts and a scuba mask.
_________________
As for myself, I would fall into the categories of Luddite and Jaded. Also, I wrote this from a male perspective, but the women are included as well. Any other stereotypes?
It is a fun thread. How about:
THE BUBBLER
Age group swimmer who sets records that survive 20 years later despite spending most of practice sitting at the bottom of the deep end of the pool blowing bubbles under those who are diligently trying to complete the set so that they might be good enough to come in second to the bubbler at meets.
THE SOLO
Will not swim for a team and insists on training alone at odd hours. Gave up meet swimming years ago, but will swim open water events provided he can get in on the outside of the pack and avoid contact. Won't draft because he must go at his own pace only. Can be a shocker based on his beef and beer diet created appearance making him look slow. Thinks that these stereotypes are funny enough that he might consider joining a team. . . my friend, that is.
The Dude
This fellow, invariably male, 6'4", and sporting that natural, never had to try for even a day to maintain ripped 6 pack, shows up in a baggy pair of O'Neill or Quicksilver shorts with a half used bar of wax in the pocket and with a leather band with a shark tooth or a strand of puka shells around the neck. He announces he's just there for a month or so to get in shape for tow-in season at Mavericks or Teahupo'o, and proceeds to do just that. After two days he ends up in the second fastest lane, and promptly takes down all but the team's top three swimmers, despite professing to have no competitive background whatsoever. His turns are awful, his head position is worse, and he looks like he's drowning cats while swimming free, but he's at the wall before you on every repeat, already slinging surfer dude-speak while you feel like vomiting quietly into the gutter from your secret 100% effort to for once beat him to the wall.
The women love him for his bleached mop, tanned bod, thongs, neckwear, and dude-speak. The guys just hate him. About 6 months after he mercifully disappeared back to whence he came, you catch a glimpse of a guy who looks eerily familiar being towed into a giant wave at Teahupo'o while flipping channels past the surf channel. You keep flipping to the video poker tournament and put the whole debacle out of your mind.
Sam, weren't you seen in compy's the last time you showed up at Cactus?
I think Mr. Perry qualifies as an Old School Swimsuit Guy-PUP. C'mon Sam, confession is good for the soul.
BTW, where do you get those hideously ugly suits? The 70's were like three decades ago...
Then again, maybe you have been able to purchase new(er) looking apparel but I would not know. After all, you've been PUP for so long:bolt:
The Mystery
No one on the team (even the team busybody) really knows the story on this person even though Mystery has been swimming with your team off and on for years. This physically perfect specimen alternates between driving an expensive foreign sports car, SUV, and motorcycle and often moonlights as a Kona qualifying Ironman (top 3 in AG) in addition to being one of the fastest swimmers on the team. Typically, mystery is off in Hawaii, New Zealand, or West Palm Beach for training; however, he/ she occasionally makes an appearance at your podunk facility. Mystery does not appear to have a job or family/ spouse but it's rumored that he/ she has a sizable trust fund with multiple dwellings all over the world. You are honored when Mystery even acknowledges you and you briefly consider how to ditch your spouse for a quick fling with this gem (not that mystery would even consider you.)
I haven't really "found" myself. But, if I got to pick, I wouldn't mind being this one. lol
18-24 Age Group
Stands around on deck talking about vapid topics, texting their friends, listening to their iPods, and get in after warmup is over.
Yeah, more like sit in the hot-tub chatting til the absolute last moment you can possibly hop in to start the first set.
The AWOL
Gets out of practice during difficult sets - particularly when they are getting their butt kicked. The usual excuse is a conference call or dental appointment.
The Flirt
Often the female, college or high school age sprinter who wears a lot of make up and flirts with the coach 90% of the practice. 5% of the practice is spent swimming and the last 5% is spent flirting with the other boys on the team.
The Big Bad Wolf
Huffs and puffs so hard on the wall between sets or laps that you consider getting out and calling 911.
The ADD/ Mathematically Challenged - Often the same person
Regardless of how often the set is repeated by the coach/ lane mates AND/ OR written on the dry erase board, ADD NEVER knows what's going on. Mathematically challenged NEVER counts correctly during distance sets.
The Let's Pull Stats out of our A$$
Makes up random percentages to try and support their position on the Message Boards. See the Flirt as an example.
Hee hee. Cream puff knows me...the excusifier. At the beginning of hard sets, we all look at each other to see who will lead. Who will puss out? Sometimes I lead...but every week, someone has an excuse for not leading...and sometimes it is me. CLASSIC!:)
Ms. Perfect
She's 5'10" and beautiful beyond belief for her age, which is almost impossible to guess. She's intelligent, articulate, and has a great career. She's a good swimmer and superb lane mate. A critical and deep thinker with a ready smile and a kind word of support for anyone who needs it. Everything about her is effortless and balanced and yet she is unaware of her own perfection. She could wear pig poop and make it an instant fashion must-have. She's informed on any topic that you care to name, but isn't obnoxious and can talk knowledgeably about world politics or science or baseball with equal ease. She has a wry smile that hints of a younger past that was less restrained than present and that she just might show to the right person. She can get out of the pool and somehow her hair is dry and perfect. She is also genetically immune to the "raccoon-eyes" goggle syndrome. She's so perfect that even the worst horn-dogs on the team don't hit on her and, as a result, she's no threat to the other women on the team and consequently they all consider her their best friend. Gradually, you get up the nerve to ask her out, but it's not going to happen because of one of the three next types listed....
The Turd Husband
You find out that Ms. Perfect may be married to The Turd Husband. He's the guy who everyone prays won't be able to come to the team Cristmas party with Ms. Perfect. You know - the guy who always leaves his finperprints in the onion dip. He swam in high school, where he and Ms. Perfect were sweethearts (a classic case of buying at the right time). Now he won't go within a mile of a pool unless it's to go to her meets and complain what a waste of time swimming is to anyone who will listen. He'll complain to the lifeguard if no one else will listen. Despite that, he is the world's leading expert on all things swimming - from training to competition to the Olympics to which of the barely-legal women on the team looks best in a swim suit - he knows it all. Just ask him, he'll be all too glad to tell you. If he is at a meet, he is often reading a paperback with a name like "Biff Studmuffin: Lost Commando Patrol Leader #47" and he's read the first 46 in the series as well. He's not physically abusive, but treats the household appliances with more respect than he does Ms. Perfect. It's impossible to understand why Ms. Perfect stays with The Turd Husband, but maybe someday she'll tell him to hang his skidmarked underware off of someone's else night table knob. At this point, Ms. Perfect may find...
The "Friend"
Ms. Perfect may have a "Friend." You know that other woman who swims in Ms. Perfect's lane? The one who is nearly a Ms. Perfect herself, except for the fact that she has an absolutely biting, sarcastic sense of humor that she verbally castrates you with on a regular basis? Well, she and Ms. Perfect live together and it's not because of financial reasons. Think about it - wouldn't the two most perfect women in the world want the most perfect partners in the world? Of course they would. And since they are the most perfect creatures in God's creation, who better? Certainly not....
You
At 5 AM you awake in your parents' converted basement to a self-produced burst of flatulance that raises the covers 12 inches and slingshots the cat halfway across the room. You have aspirated part of the pillow with your violent snoring. The non-aspirated part of the pillow has deep gouges in it from your 3 day old stubble, which is coarse enough to be used to clean a barbeque grill. In a panic, you realize that you'll barely have time to make swim practice and then hurry over to Burger World, where you are Lead Hash Brown Cooking Technologist. Stumbling towards the 4'X4' bathroom, you step on something unpleasant and realize that your cat is protesting you not scooping the cat litter for the last month. You try to remember where the litter box actually is, but decide that you can just follow the ammonia smell if you really need to find it some day. Left over pizza from last July 4th oozes off the top of a lampshade like a moldering stalagtite. In the bathroom you realize that the toilet is still clogged - It's the same thought you've had for the last 2 weeks at this time of the morning. You vow to get it later tonight. You also vow to eat more fiber so the clogging happens less often. Congratulating yourself on your resourcefulness, you pee in the sink, while humming "I Did It My Way". You wonder if all that hair on your back and in your ears was there the day before. Still hung over slightly, you slump against the sink with the grace of a deer that's taken a bullet to the gut. With foaming toothpaste running down your right arm, you face yourself for a moment of agonizing self-appraisal. This lasts for about 2 nanoseconds and then you go back to what you were originally thinking: "This is it! Today's the day! Today at practice, I'll ask Ms Perfect to go out with me! Today she gets the limitless benefits of my irresistable masculine attentions! God, won't the other women on the team be jealous!?!"
-LBJ
