Breaking barriers: not even an aysmptote can stop Samo’s mathletes
Otter Koetter, Sports Editor
The world was dark on the silent night of Feb. 3. The scent of anticipation, fear and acne cream clung to the air as crew members shuffled through the Santa Monica High School parking lot. They pulled chairs out of nondescript vans, unaware of the brilliance which was to unfold in the following morning’s Mathlete Olympiad. Each seat was placed in a perfect 180 degree angle across the Barnum hall stage, and banners which lettered the names of each team were strung across their backs.
The night left as quickly as it came, and soon the bright sun illuminated the world. The alarms of dozens of mathletes across the greater Los Angeles area sounded to the same tune, Neil deGrasse Tyson listing off the digits of pi. Matthew Horowitz (’22), captain of Santa Monica High School’s mathlete team, describes his first thoughts of the morning.
“As soon as my eyes opened I knew today was the day. It was the day we would finally win,” Horowitz said.
After his morning sanctification, Horowitz yanked off his bedsheets, jumped out of bed and knelt down to pray for his team’s success before a poster of Archimedes. Horowitz looks back on the morning with pride, recalling his breakfast that morning: Omega3, vitamin B12, antidepressants and adderall.
The team met in the underground portion of the DoubleTree Inn’s parking lot, not wanting their competition to see the back windows of their parent’s mini vans, which were filled with “my child is student of the month at Santa Monica high school” and “academic beast on board” bumper stickers. They wanted the element of surprise.
What seemed like hundreds, but was really a couple dozen, of mathletes strutted across the Santa Monica High School grounds, confident in their prestige. Tents were set up around the auditorium, each team wanting the most direct path to the stage, as they feared too long a walk would strain their muscles, ruining their meticulously practiced button pressing times and preventing them from answering problems fastest.
Suddenly, “Centuries” by Imagine Dragons sounded throughout the campus, summoning the competitors to the stage. It was time.
“My blood was pumping to the beat of Imagine Dragons. I really resonated with the lyrics, ‘Some legends are told\ some turn to dust or to gold\ but you will remember me\ remember me, for centuries.’ People would remember my performance today, I was sure of it,” Scarlett Thompson (’23), a.k.a Samo’s academic weapon, said.
With calculators in one hand and finely sharpened number two pencils in the other, the mathletes entered the stage. They took their seats, poised their pencils, and turned their heads to the board. Coach Smith looked upon her mathletes on the stage and tears welled up in her eyes.
“They were beautiful. Magnificent. We’ve trained so hard for this day and that it’s finally here it’s almost too much to handle. I mean, just look at them up there. Makes all those 6 p.m. late nights worth it,” Smith said.
Beads of sweat made the mathlete’s faces glisten under the bright stage lights. With determination filled eyes and perseverant hearts, the competitors began their duel. The board illuminated the first question: 2 + 2. The sound of fervently scribbling pencils filled the auditorium as mathletes struggled to complete the complex multi-step challenge.
Soon, a gasp echoed through the auditorium as a member of the Culver City High School team collapsed on the stage. Members of the crew flooded the scene and carried the incapciated body to an already waiting ambulance (medical personnel were always on site during competitions and ready for the inevitable medical emergencies which resulted from such intense competition).
The olympiad continued nonetheless and, after a grueling four hours of competition, a victor was finally named. Samo had won. Screams erupted from the team, they danced around the stage and lifted their trophy over their heads. Two members of the team grabbed Samo’s gatorade bucket and dumped it over Coach Smith’s head. Drenched in sweat, with smiles spread across their faces and pencil blisters covering their hands the team joined locked arms and took a bow.
“It was the best feeling in the world. There’s nothing quite like the feeling of victory,” Horowitz said.
