Chapter 7 - Renee Had Been Building a Brand, Not an Athlete

Renee believed recruitment was marketing.

The more we reviewed, the clearer that became.

She had created Sasha accounts on three social platforms.

Race clips.

Workout montages.

Inspirational captions.

Slow-motion starting-block footage.

Posts about discipline.

Sacrifice.

Grinding.

The phrases were ridiculous coming from a woman who attended two of 127 training sessions.

But schools recruit athletes partly through visibility now.

So I never objected.

Until I saw what she had cut out.

Clips where Sasha limped after sessions.

Gone.

Losses.

Gone.

Poor starts.

Gone.

Anything resembling normal development.

Gone.

Renee had transformed a seventeen-year-old athlete into an advertisement for inevitability.

Then Sasha plateaued.

Not badly.

She simply stopped improving at the same dramatic rate.

That is normal.

Development is not linear.

Renee panicked.

She wanted new content.

Something athletic.

Edgy.

Different from track.

That was why she wanted Jude’s bike.

Not because Sasha loved motorcycles.

She barely knew how to ride one.

Renee’s idea was:

Sprinter does wheelie.

Cross-training.

Fearless athlete.

Viral clip.

Ridgerest would notice.

Nobody at Ridgerest had asked for it.

Sasha admitted:

“I told her it was stupid.”

“Why do it?”

“She said everybody else on the shortlist had better content.”

“Did you believe her?”

“I believed she knew.”

That sentence sounded familiar.

Children assume parents know.

I had spent years assuming Cliff knew what was fair.

Sometimes adulthood is simply discovering authority and judgment are different skills.

Then Sasha said:

“She told me you wouldn’t care about the bike.”

I felt something tighten.

“Why?”

“Because you got it cheap.”

“Cheap?”

“She said Jude paid six thousand for something worth less than that.”

The dealer receipt was $6,200 including protective equipment and accessories after Jude changed from a more expensive model.

Renee had converted thrift into disposability.

Sasha continued:

“Mom said if anything happened, Grandpa would smooth it over.”

There it was.

The actual family insurance policy.

Not money.

Cliff.

He would minimize.

I would absorb.

Renee would move forward.

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