He was a grown up when I met him. He was nice. The first words I ever heard from him were "go in and we will see what you can do". I couldn't do much then. I could do a lot more one year later. He taught me a lot. He pushed me. He showed me how to achieve goals through persistence. He proved me how I could do so much better than I thought. I was no champion, but I almost got on the podium for the first time in my life, because of him. Almost, because when they called my name I didn't believe it was me, and I didn't go. Silly little girl. He handed me the prize later that day. He was my coach for two years. Two years of "keep your head down", "point the elbows to the ceiling", and "make each stroke count". Nowadays, back in the pool, when I am completely alone with my thoughts, I recall those times. I can still hear his words. I can still clearly hear his voice. I always try to correct my technique, as if he was there, on the side of the pool looking at me and my class. I also remember when he decided to test how fast I could do 100m. I did it as fast as I could. In the end he told me the time. I asked him how was that. He smiled and replied "an eternity". I admire his honesty, then and now. I appreciate the fact that he didn't try to be nice and that he told me the truth. He was one of my favourite teachers/coaches. He was my swimming coach. He is still a swimming coach in my hometown. He is still there, teaching young people not only how to swim, but also life lessons. He is still great, I bet. He is Carlos.