Call Chris Young Ishmael.

Captains are only as good as their crews, and I was fortunate enough to have had a great crew at the recent annual Lycos® company-wide meeting, held at a swanky country club outside of Boston. My crew of Justin, Dori, Karry, G. Mike, and Ishmael were assembled for the boat-building competition. The object of the contest was to build a pool-worthy boat out of cardboard and duct (no, not duck) tape that a predetermined "captain" could paddle from one end to the other. Knowing that I would get wet with my clothes on was bad enough, but I'd be damned if our boat was merely going to float — we would win. Our design was simple: A boogie board reinforced with cardboard that would trap air and provide buoyancy.

As race time approached, I stood at the edge of the pool with my coworkers. As I waited for the starter's whistle, I focused on the task at hand. The only other sound on this slightly overcast day was the water lapping against the side of the pool. When the whistle broke the silence, I calmly placed our boat into the water (as we had been instructed to do) and climbed aboard. I quickly folded my legs out of the pool (kicking was not allowed) and began my dog-paddle toward the opposite side. Our vessel, the S.S. Peabody, not only floated (which is more than I can say for almost half of the entries), but it allowed me to make speedy progress.

As I paddled, my teammates' screaming increased. Yet I heard little else but the sounds of our racing rivals, approaching on my left. I looked up once or twice to see my construction mates and other "friends" cheering me on (everybody loves a winner). I slowed my approach as I neared the finish, partly in mocking contempt of my fellow racers, many of whom were still stuck in the shallow end, and partly because I wanted to make sure I would not be disqualified for any reason (no kicking or over-hand strokes — it was doggy-paddling only).

When I reached the finish rope, I thought for a moment about a victory lap back to the shallow end — our boat was that good — but I decided to be a good sport. My teammates pulled me from the water and we watched the second heat. In the end, we came in second to some chap with balloons tied to him and aluminum foil between his toes. Still, I'll always remember what it was like to be in the zone.

Our victory, though short-lived and bittersweet, was a personal triumph. There's not much I can do well. I'm a good croquet player, if a little unsure of myself. My main strength comes from a thorough understanding of the rules (and being a bastard when it comes to enforcing them). But my near victory in the boat-building competition made me reflect upon moments of glory. At some point in our lives we've all had them.

Evel Knievel once said, "You can be famous for a lot of things. You can be a Nobel-prize winner. You can be the fattest guy in the world. You can be the guy with the smallest penis. Whatever it is, enjoy it. It don't last forever."

Moments of victory, the chance to be the best at something, memories that stay with us a long time — here are a few days of glory for some winners at Tripod:

Chris Johnson was the owner of two champion hamsters and was a title-holding Bubble Yum™ Bubble Blower.
Ishmael's tadpoles came in third in a pet show.
Jesse was the playground Wheelie King.
Derek went to a National Spelling Bee and came in 13th!
Dori was awarded a medal by the NYC Fire Department for her winning essay on fire prevention.
According to his younger brother, Cian was famous for "dating a lot of girls" in high school.
Generic Mike solved Rubik's Cube this past weekend for the first time, 15 years after first picking it up.

As I asked people about their brushes with greatness, many shrugged and sheepishly looked downward. Why the embarrassment? As I approach 30, I realize these moments are special and should be cherished. You never know when you'll have another chance at victory. Unless you're Pete, who's planning on breaking the eating record at Jack's. Currently, the record is over $21 worth of food consumed in one sitting. The catch? There's no bathroom at the oldest hot dog stand in the country.

As for yours truly, I was the four-time pie-eating champion of my high school. Nobody can take that away from me. — Barak