Charlie strolled along the pedestrian path bordering the Seine, periodically bending down to touch the neighboring grass. At 66, he still couldn’t believe he had made the US Olympic Groundskeeping Team. Overtraining with his push mower earlier in the year had compromised the cartilage in his left knee, and he wasn’t as fast as he used to be. However, what Charlie lacked in speed and vigor was compensated by years of experience and skill. Some people said Groundskeeping should not be an Olympics event, but Charlie knew it required more physical strength and mental toughness than many other sports competing this summer.

A professional groundskeeper for the New York Mets, Charlie was known at Shea Stadium as the Sultan of Sod. Only two years ago, he had been named Groundskeeper of the Year, an award that took into consideration not just the field’s aesthetics but the quality of the turf, player safety, the professionalism of the crew, and the team’s handling of adverse weather conditions. His long-term goal was induction into Major League Baseball’s (MLB) Groundskeeper Association Hall of Fame. But today, he was happy to have just made it to Paris.

A bit overwatered, he thought, as the damp blades caressed his calloused palm. Hopefully, the competition grounds will be dry by tomorrow. Mowing in wet conditions could add 25% more drag to the race.

“Keep up those squats, Charlie,” said a voice behind him. It was Sammy, his teammate from Fenway Park. Sammy was twenty years younger, fit, and fast, and they had him mowing anchor in the four-man push relay tomorrow morning. Charlie didn’t mind being cut from that race. Speed mowing had never been his forte. His best chances were in the artistic category, where the judges weighed technique and imagery equally.

“We’ve been training all month on Kentucky bluegrass,” Sammy continued, referencing most MLB stadiums’ strong and resilient grass. “Heard they got some type of fescue blend here. It grows faster but could slow us down by several seconds.”

Charlie shrugged. “Don’t worry, Sammy. Many European fields today use artificial turf. The groundskeepers on this side of the pond haven’t been exposed to our rigorous drills. They’ll never keep up with the ol’ red, white and blue.”

As Charlie predicted, the United States did well in the speed-mowing events. Since artistic mowing was scheduled for the afternoon, Charlie cheered his teammates on while listening to the play-by-play on his phone app. Clinton Jones from Dodger Stadium had just taken the lead in the lawn obstacle course. Deftly mowing around flower beds, rocks, bushes, and other irregular landscape elements, he had picked up speed in the final stretch, mowing down competitors from Italy and Germany in the final seconds. The latter had shot their wad too early and struggled to catch up. “And here comes Jones down the final patch of grass,” shouted the U.S. announcer triumphantly. “And he wins by a full square yard!”

The United States easily captured Gold in the speed mowing relay as well. France came close but was disqualified when its third man let go of the blade control handle before his teammate had safely latched on. Charlie shook his head. It must be painful for the host country to lose on a technicality like that.

By late afternoon, the sun was positioned for optimal glint. Charlie had cleaned and sharpened his blades several times. After adjusting his sunglasses, he gripped the handles of his cylinder reel mower. The Alpha-Regal was the Mercedes-Benz of lawnmowers, and he rarely cut a lawn without it. If they were to win, they would do it together.

The first competition was easy for an experienced stadium groundskeeper—creating a diamond pattern on a 50-by-50-yard patch of grass. At the sound of the gun, Charlie pushed north to south across the expanse, then crisscrossed east to west. Sweat dripped down his face and neck, but he didn’t wipe it with his sleeve. His eye had to maintain a steady cutting edge. Despite a cramp in his left calf, he soldiered on. The stakes were too high. Push, push, push.

Lighter and darker stripes formed as if by magic. He could hear the crowd in the US section cheering as the pattern emerged, but the sun was his real ally. The secret was adjusting the roller to alternate how the grass bent:  grass leaning away from the viewer looks lighter as the sunlight reflects off the entire blade of grass. Grass that leans toward the viewer looks darker because the sun reflects off only the tips of the blade. Professionals like Charlie knew this, but the optical illusion mesmerized the spectators.

Sipping water with electrolytes, Charlie waited for the scores. Not bad. He was currently in second place, just a half point behind Japan. The Japanese had an artistic advantage with their sense of feng shui, but their execution was often too simplistic for the judges’ tastes. With one more race to go–creative lawn design–Charlie was determined to grab the Gold.

Charlie set his mowing presentation to “America the Beautiful.”  Perhaps not the most original score but apt for the composition planned. His design started with a series of slightly curving lines, but approaching the upper left quadrant, he began incorporating a series of circular, spiraling patterns. “What’s Charlie doing?” the U.S. announcer questioned as Charlie spun the mower around at full tilt. “That’s four spins in 10 seconds, an Olympics first! This should win him extra points in technical difficulty, but what’s he creating?”

And then they saw it. The thirteen wavy lines–or stripes–Charlie had cut first undulated as if in a light breeze. And the tight spirals–all 50 of them–seem to twinkle as the sun’s rays bounced against the irregular blades of grass. Charlie bowed as the music ended. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the U.S. fans standing, waving flags and singing the last line, “From Sea to Shining Sea!”

Charlie shook hands with his Japanese competitor and sat down. It would be close. The latter had designed a bonsai tree—very Zen, thought Charlie, but somewhat static. The US coach stood behind Charlie, squeezing his shoulders with encouragement. Charlie let out a deep breath and shook out his aching calf. In the distance, he could see the judges, their heads bent together in conference. The minutes ticked by interminably.

And then the scores flashed onto the screen. The United States had jumped to first in overall artistic lawn design. Charlie jumped to his feet, fist-pumped the air, then wrapped the U.S. flag around his torso for a celebratory lap around the mowing field. His months of turf training had paid off. The Sultan of Sod was now a Gold medalist at the 2024 Paris Olympics.