The boy... the sea.. and me

Our heads are submerged in the grey saltwater. SWOOSH! We’re up from a wave again, gasping for more air. My legs are feverishly kicking, my right arm following in tow. His right arm is clinging to my left shoulder, tears are pouring down his face. He’s absolutely terrified, but knows he’s safe now… I’m certain he can feel my left arm locked tightly around his waist. He’s not going anywhere. He’s not going to die…

It begins simple enough on this Monday afternoon as I arrive at the beach. It’s been a brutal past 36 hours with little or no sleep and way too many “deep” conversations with both Jim Tressel and Marvin Lewis, so this is much needed, my relaxing on the beach, that is.

The swell is decent today and about 15 surfers have conjugated in one area where the sets are rolling in three at a time. The only people I see in the water are some foreigners (white people) playing in the shallow whitecaps and of course the surfers. There are solid four and five footers (yes, those are rough waves) out there, but I’m physically and emotionally drained and came here to read and nap, so I decide I’m not going to surf at all or get in even. I simply want to chill.

I’m reading my book when I notice some sort of commotion to my right. A group of Koreans have gathered and are looking out to the sea. I take a peak. Don’t see anything. I hear sporadic yells from a few women, but everyone is just standing there, so I assume it’s a dolphin – because clearly if SOME KID WAS STUCK OUT IN THE WATER AND ABOUT TO FUCKING DROWN TO DEATH they wouldn’t just be standing around – and continue with my book.

A few minutes pass by. I’m drowsy, so I put the book down and turn over on my back. Immediately, I spot a younger Korean man coming my way. He moves at a brisk pace.

“Englisssss?” he tries to ask.

I nod. He points to the ocean; he’s extremely nervous and a tad embarrassed. I nod again, thinking he wants me to look at a freaking dolphin. He eagerly motions for me to rise. He’s searching for the right word, I can tell.

“Baby… baby!” he says at last, again pointing to the water, this time with more vigor.

“Baby?” I reply, my mind beginning to process what’s happening. “Like a little kid… out there?”

This time, he nods.

I scan the beach. Other foreigners are sitting, talking, relaxing. Some Koreans are casually standing, watching something in the sea… doing nothing. I see a little boy down by the water’s edge, running, screaming and waving his arms. Three foreigners (one guy and two girls) are next to the boy and looking out to the ocean also.

I don’t react right away cause I’m deeply confused, still not sure if this is real. I move closer to the water, squinting. Then I see it. There’s someone way the hell out there, beyond the break, arms flailing. I’m in the shallow water now with white foam splashing up everywhere. I shoot a look to the Caucasian guy, who’s with the two girls, implying, “What the fuck?”

I’m diving into the surf; whitewater is crashing around me. I come up for air… here comes a monster… shit, it’s already breaking. I grab a quick breath and thrust my body into the powerful wave; it’s force smashing down on my back. I make it through. Can see a little Korean boy battling to stay afloat. His chin is just above sea level. He’s crying out for help, for God, for anything. I can no longer hear the waves breaking, I can only hear his tears… it’s beyond creepy.

Our eyes connect. He cries louder, as if he can’t believe I’m really coming for him.

“It’s okay… It’s okay!” I yell with the sea splattering in my face.

I swim as hard as I ever have, as fast as I possibly can. I finally reach him.

“Here, grab my hand,” I utter, completely out of breath. “It’s okay man, I got you. It’s okay.”

He’s maybe 9 or 10, but he’s a bigger boy and as he hops on my back we both go under. That’s obviously not going to work. I reposition him to my side. We head for shore. I feel the surf setting behind us. This is bad.

“Hey, you have to help me, okay. Paddle with your other arm. Hurry! Hurry! As fast as you can.”

I see the white guy from beach swimming out to us and scream at him to grab the kid before the swell crushes us. I hear it beginning to break… quickly shove the boy to the other dude, turn and yet again, throw myself into the body of another wave.

When I make it back to the shoreline the white guy who helped at the end apologizes to me. Explains that he didn’t know what was going on and that he’s not much of a swimmer or else he’d have been out there sooner.

The Korean man who pulled me off the beach runs up to me and grabs my hand, thanking me profusely. A few other Koreans come over, dip their heads, smile and give me the thumbs up.

I return to my towel and collapse on top of it. My heart races and my mind spins, processing the events that have led up to this point. I should be pleased, should feel this ultimate sense of fulfillment, yet, it’s pure anger that consumes me. I can’t begin to fathom what the hell the Koreans were thinking. Why didn’t anyone do anything sooner… where was his family … and, my God, what would’ve happened to that boy if…

I stop myself. My rage is still there, but I control it because I catch a glimpse of the boy. He’s sitting with his family about 30 yards away, looking straight ahead. His eyes are shooting blanks, his mouth silent. He stretches his arms out and leans back against the sand. Stays there for a sec, contemplating, then sits upright with the same empty stare. I make my way over to check on him.

“An-nyeong-ha-sae-yo (hello),” I call out.

He turns his head, surprised that I’m speaking Korean.

“You okay?” I ask, patting him on the back.

“Yes,” he says softly, his face emotionless, still visibly in shock.

“Alright, uhh… just wanted to… just wanted to check on you,” I say and walk back.

As the rest of the afternoon unfolds, every so often I glance over in his direction. I look over at one point to find him building a sandcastle with his friend. He’s smiling, laughing… living. And so I’m struck at once with this overwhelming realization of exactly how close he came to death. It cripples me for a moment and my eyes swell a little. It’s such an odd thing, saving a life. I have a sneaking suspicion I’ll never be quite the same.

Thirty minutes later I leave the beach. I’m done, literally. Need some food. Need to regroup. As I go to cross the street, there he is, with his friend, right in front of me. His eyes widen and a broad a smile illuminates his chubby face. He’s no longer in shock.

“Ahh, thank you,” he says, bowing and firmly shaking my hand with both of his. “Thank you very much!”

“No problem buddy,” I say. “But hey, for today… no… no swim… okay.”

He grins and bows his head, disappearing in the crowd.