What is the best excuse you have heard lately?
The best excuse I’ve heard lately is also the worst, and it made me laugh.
I coach performance swimmers aged between twelve and fourteen. During a recent session a girl called me over after barely 100 metres of a 500-metre warm-up.
“It’s my finger,” she said.
Immediately I was intrigued.
The problem, it turned out, was a false fingernail—a light turquoise one. As competitive swimmers generally benefit from having fewer things attached to their hands rather than more, I was already suppressing a smile. She’d had her nails done for a treat and was proud of them. I had suggested taking them all off; apparently, it’s not that easy. She explained that the nail wasn’t actually coming off, but it was pulling at the skin around the fingertip and causing pain.
To her credit, she wasn’t trying to get out of the session. She genuinely looked uncomfortable. So I escorted her to the lifeguard and asked if he had a plaster.
He did.
The finger was patched up.
Crisis over.
At that point I discovered that using a single plaster from the first-aid kit meant the lifeguard would need to complete an incident report. A coaching colleague confirmed that this was indeed the procedure. Apparently, if anything is taken from the first-aid bag, paperwork must follow.
So my swimmer’s excuse resulted in an incident report on how false fingernails pull at the finger in swimming training. Even long nails are a problem – let alone the risk of scratching someone, or catching them on a turbo lanerope. Serious swimmers have short finger-nails.
As excuses go, it was magnificent. Authentic. Unique and memorable. Young teens like to try things out: false eyelashes, mascara that is supposed to be waterproof—but isn’t. Jewellery—inappropriate costumes. We find a way to politely point out the error of their ways: an older swimmer may have a word, or we speak to parents.
The swimmer in question went on to complete a tough 7000m two-hour set. Half an hour in, the plaster came off. She gave it to me to dispose of. By then she realised there was extra ‘pull’ at the tip of each finger – like she was wearing paddles. Not hand paddles, but finger paddles – ten of them.
The best excuse I had for turning up to swim, many decades ago? I had undressed in a changing cubicle and was thinking I could step into my black swimming trunks – it was my sister’s costume. I just went home. I was genuinely worried the coach would make me swim in it anyway.
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