The History of an Evil CEO

Chapter VI The Big Shot Part 3

This morning of August 13th was harder than I expected. I drove Natalia to the airport, knowing it would be the last time we would see each other for a long time. The place was packed with people heading in all directions, but all I could focus on was her. She seemed nervous and determined, and I knew she was ready to face whatever awaited her in the UK.

We talked for a while, trying to make light of things, but when her flight was announced, reality hit me hard. I hugged her and tried to hold on to the moment. Just before she walked, and walked and walked until I couldn't see her anymore...

From there I spent most weeks thinking about her while she was guiding me in shooting practice even though I didn't want to continue with this and it was really the only thing I could do as I didn't have any other work to do.

By the end of August I was already prepared for the last time I would participate in Olympic shooting at the 1972 Munich Olympics! Our arrival in Germany seemed almost unreal. The atmosphere was charged with energy and anticipation, and athletes from all corners of the world filled the Olympic Village. It was incredible to see so many people gathered here, each representing their country, each preparing for the same world stage.

Once inside, we were shown to our rooms. The teams were grouped by sport, so I was assigned to the other shooters. In the shooters' area there was a mix of people from different countries, all as excited as I was. We spent the first few hours settling in, exploring, and getting to know our teammates and competitors alike. It was hard not to feel a sense of camaraderie in the village: everyone here was aiming for something big, fueled by years of training.

During those first few days, everything seemed destined to be the Games: a reunion, a celebration. If only I had known what would soon shatter it all...

Well, what follows is something I have never been able to forget, what happened here in Munich. Last night, a group of kids climbed over a fence to get into the Olympic Village. I didn't think much of it at the time and brushed it off, since they were all wearing tracksuits and we had just left a party. Not knowing how much those words would haunt me the next day.

When the news of the attack broke this morning, I could hardly believe it. I made my way to the apartment where they were and the sight of the scene paralyzed me. Everything was chaos. Two of the guys were there, armed and nervous. I didn't even think, I just reacted, doing what I could to try to intervene. I wasn't fully aware of what I was doing; it was instinct, the part of me trained to act in a crisis, everything Vietnam taught me I just had to do now.

It's a hard truth to accept, knowing I couldn't change the outcome. The world feels heavier today. These Games were supposed to symbolize unity and peace, and instead, they have become a reminder of how fragile those things are. Even though I have always tried to separate myself from it, it seems like it haunts me, but why?

I'm back in the States, with two Olympic medals in hand, but somehow I don't feel any lighter. The past few years have left scars, and no amount of applause seems to erase them. The Munich Games were supposed to be a celebration, but all I can think about is the weight of what happened there, and everything that came before.

Tonight, as the year winds down, I decided to put aside heavy thoughts and head to a bar in hopes of ringing in the new year with something new, perhaps a distraction. That's where I met Eliot Ludwick. We struck up a conversation, and to my surprise, discovered that we share the same first name. More than that, we seemed to have a lot in common: Ludwick owns a toy company called Playtime, and as we talked, he mentioned that he'd been looking for creative minds to join him.

It wasn't long before he proposed that I join on board, along with my friends. Something about that felt right, like a new beginning. So here I am, ending this year on an unexpected note: ready to build something new.