“Jessie,” Mo said, reminding me that I had more pressing things to be worrying about just then. “You go.”
I knew right from my mount that I was a little off. Sometimes you just felt that kind of thing, even before you went into the rest of your routine. The springboard would feel a bit weird or you’d land a little crooked or you’d have butterflies in your stomach that wouldn’t calm down…whatever it was, the worst thing you could do was dwell on it. So, even though my mind was racing—you almost missed a foot on the beam; that could’ve been catastrophic; you’re lucky to even be on—I tried to take a deep breath before my acrobatic series.
Usually, if a gymnast falls on anything, it’s the acrobatic series across the beam. It can be super-tricky to time everything right, and if you get off by even a fraction of an inch on one skill, it can create a domino effect. If you’re only doing a single flip, then you might wobble but you won’t fall. But if you’re trying to do one flip after the other, a minor error on the first could make your second disastrous.
These were all of the things I was trying not to think about as I lined my feet up on the beam and held my arms up straight by my ears. Then I threw myself into a back handspring into another back handspring into a back layout, landing with both of my feet on the beam at once. This was an important part of the skill, because it gave it extra difficulty. If I failed to keep my body pencil straight the entire time, I lost a couple of tenths of a point, and I risked bobbling or falling off the beam entirely.
This time, I didn’t do it perfectly. I could feel that my hips and body weren’t aligned, so I piked the landing a bit, but I was able to get upright fast enough that the judges might not have noticed. I was so relieved to be through that part of the routine that I almost felt like it was over.
But then came my sheep jump. I’d practiced it so many times that I wasn’t worried about it. I bounced on the balls of my feet, trying to get the height that I needed, and threw my head back. When I was in the air, I could feel the tips of my toes brush my ponytail, sending strands of hair swinging around my face.
When I landed, my feet were not square on the beam. One was almost completely off, and I curled my toes around the beam as if I could somehow hold myself on with the same move that I would have used to pick up a towel from the floor when I didn’t want to bend over.
Somehow, it worked. I wobbled quite a bit—that would be at least three tenths of a point, probably more—but I stayed on the beam. It could’ve been a lot worse, though it was hard to view it as a victory.
I could feel tears stinging my eyes as I dismounted and found Mo’s arms, which were ready to be wrapped around me. “Okay,” she said. “Okay.”
There were a lot of ways I could have interpreted that word: that my routine had been fine, not great but not awful; that I was going to be okay. But the only thing I wanted to find out was whether my score would be enough to keep me in the running to qualify as an Elite gymnast.
Now I couldn’t stop myself from finding my mother in the crowd. I sought out the bright orange hat and saw her, one hand over her mouth. As soon as she saw me, she waved and tried to smile, but I could tell she was worried. I glanced away before I totally psyched myself out.
I had to move to floor for my final event. Normally, floor was an event I liked and that I was good at. I’d even been feeling confident about the double front that had been causing me problems before. But now, I wasn’t so sure. I didn’t know what I needed to score in order to qualify as Elite, or even if it was possible.
As if reading my mind, Mo stood in front of me, commanding my attention with her gaze. Back in China, Mo had been an Elite gymnast herself, so you could still see that competitive fire burning in her eyes.
“You can do this,” she said. “You work hard for long time. You deserve this.”
At first, I wanted to correct her—I felt like I hadn’t been working as hard as I should have been lately. I was taking time off for my treatment, of course, and then I lost precious hours to the earlier start at the high school and the cheerleading practices I’d been attending. Maybe if I hadn’t wasted that time, I could’ve had more reps on my sheep jump, and maybe then I wouldn’t have faltered here, when the stakes were so high.
But I’d also been in the gym six days a week, often six hours a day, for the past three years. Before that, I’d trained with the team and traveled to competitions most weekends, performing at invitationals and qualifiers and exhibitions.
I glanced up at the crowd, seeking out my teammates, the girls who had been with me every step of the way. Britt nudged Christina, and Christina tapped Noelle, and then the three of them stood up, holding signs. Britt’s sign was upside down at first, but she turned it right side up, laughing, and I saw that, together, the three signs read GO JESSIE GO! in huge letters.
I couldn’t stop a grin from spreading across my face. Sometimes I got jealous about the fact that they were already Elite gymnasts and had the opportunity to participate in all of these amazing competitions, like the Nationals and the USA vs. the World event. But this was my meet today, and it was my chance to prove to everyone—and to myself—that I could do it.
I was still smiling when I struck my beginning pose on the floor. There was a small chime that let me know my music was about to begin, and as soon as I heard the first note, I danced my way to one corner of the blue carpet.
Although I’d been struggling with the double front, I had a longer tumbling pass that took up more of my energy, and so we’d put that one right at the start of the routine. Generally, it’s a good idea to begin with your most difficult pass, so that you are fresh and not too tired to get through your hardest skill. So I launched into my first pass, which consisted of a round-off to a couple of whip backs to a double twist in a layout position, and then tried to catch my breath before I had to do my next one.
Normally, as I stood surveying the blue carpet in front of me as if it were an expanse of ocean I was about to flip across, I was completely in the zone. I heard my music almost in a vacuum, and it wasn’t uncommon for me to finish the routine feeling like the whole thing had happened in a blur. But this time, as I set up my second tumbling pass, I became very aware of the crowd. I heard a voice—Britt’s piercing yell: “Go, Jessie, go!” Then more voices joined in: Noelle and Christina and my mom, and it sounded like the entire crowd was chanting my name, even though I knew that that was probably not even possible. But it lifted me up, and reminded me of that day with Cheng when I’d attacked the tumbling pass into the pit. Maybe now, like then, I would fly.
I sprinted across the floor, jumping into my front handspring and then pushing off with my feet to rotate quickly two times in the air. My feet hit the floor, and I didn’t even take a little step back the way I normally did, dancing the landing a little bit to make it look more solid than it was. I left my feet right where they were—firmly on the ground.
The audience cheered when I finished my routine, all four tumbling passes and my dance elements. I walked sedately off the floor in the elegant way that the judges like to see, with my arms straight at my sides and my head held high, but I couldn’t help almost running as I threw myself into Mo’s arms for a hug.
I didn’t even have to look at the scoreboard this time—I just knew I’d qualified to be an Elite gymnast. I was done flipping between two worlds, feeling like I didn’t fit into either. Now, I had one place where I knew I would always belong.
Gymnastics Glossary
all-around competition: The part of a competition where gymnasts compete in all four events, and in which their combined scores are used to determine who is the best all-around athlete
basket toss: A stunt that involves three or more cheerleaders who interlock their arms to form a base for another, who takes a standing position on this base and is then thrown by yet another cheerleader into the air to perform a jump, before returning to the “cradle” of the bases’ hands
beam: A horizontal, raised apparatus that is four inc
hes wide, sixteen feet in length, and approximately four feet off the floor; on this, gymnasts perform a series of dance moves and acrobatic skills.
blind landing: A landing in which the gymnast ends up facing forward, sometimes away from the apparatus, and she cannot see the floor before landing
Comaneci: Named for Nadia Comaneci, the first woman to perform it in competition, this skill is one in which the gymnast swings backward, then lets go of the bar, executes a front flip, and grabs the bar again as she completes the move.
floor: A carpeted surface measuring forty feet square, over springs and wooden boards. Also the term for the only event in which a gymnast performs a routine set to music; the routine is ninety seconds in length, and composed of dance and acrobatic elements.
flyer: A cheerleader who is tossed in the air through the basket toss, to perform jumps, twists, flips, or other stunts, while other cheerleaders form a base for her on the ground
full-in: Two flips in the air with the first flip featuring a 360-degree twist
giant hop full: A skill performed on the uneven bars in which the gymnast swings her outstretched body all the way around the bar. When she reaches the top of the bar, she lets go and goes into a full twist, remaining in handstand position, before catching the bar again.
giant swing: A skill done on the uneven bars that forms the foundation of most other routines, in which the gymnast swings all the way around the bar with straight legs and pointed toes
grips: Strip of leather placed on a gymnast’s hand to prevent calluses and allow for a better grip on the uneven bars
handspring: A move in which a gymnast starts on both feet, jumps to a position supporting her body with just her two hands on the floor, and then pushes off to land on her feet again. This can be done forward or backward, and is typically used to start or connect an acrobatic series.
hurkey: A cheerleading jump with one leg bent toward the ground and the other stretched straight out to the side
Junior Elite: The level before Senior Elite, as designated by regulations of the governing body of gymnastics. Junior Elite gymnasts are not allowed to compete in the Olympics.
layout: A maneuver completed in the air with hands held against the body and a pencil-straight overall position; flipping can be forward or backward, and the move ends with the gymnast standing on both feet again.
optional routines: Routines performed on the floor in gymnastics where the gymnast is able to make up her own combination of dance elements, acrobatic skills, tumbling passes, and release skills, as well as choose her own music. The lower levels in gymnastics often require compulsory routines, where all gymnasts perform the same combination of skills, so optional routines are a sign of the gymnast’s growth and development.
pike: A position in which the body is bent double at the hips, with legs straight and toes pointed
release skill: Any skill performed on the uneven bars that requires the gymnast’s hands to leave the bar before returning to it, usually after a twisting or flipping skill has been executed
ring leap: A leap in which one of the gymnast’s legs is stretched out in front of her, and the other bent behind her, with her toes touching the back of her head
round-off: A move that begins like a cartwheel, but in which the legs swing together overhead, and the gymnast finishes facing in the opposite direction
sheep jump: A move in which the gymnast jumps into the air, throws her head back until it touches her feet for a split second, and then returns to a straight-body position to land on both feet
stalder work: Named after male gymnast Josef Stalder, these kind of skills are completed on the uneven bars. The gymnast begins in a handstand and moves as if to complete a giant swing, but on the upswing pikes her body and straddles her legs before returning to a straight position at the top of the bar.
still rings: One of the six apparatuses in men’s artistic gymnastics. Two rings are suspended from cables, and the gymnast must use them to perform a series of strength maneuvers, holding himself high off the ground, while controlling the movement of the rings, which are meant to remain as still as possible.
tuck: A position in which the knees are folded in toward the chest at a ninety-degree angle, with the waist bent, creating the shape of a ball
tumbling passes: A series of connected acrobatic moves required in a floor-exercise routine
twist: A rotation of the body around the horizontal and vertical axes. Twisting is completed when a gymnast is flipping simultaneously, performing both actions at the same time in the same element. Twisting elements are typically named for the number of rotations completed (e.g.: a half twist is 180 degrees, or half a rotation; a full twist is 360 degrees, or a full rotation; and a double twist is 720 degrees, or two complete rotations).
uneven bars: (often, just “bars”) one of four apparatuses in women’s artistic gymnastics. Bars features the apparatus on which women perform mostly using their upper-body strength. This event consists of two rails placed at an uneven level; one bar acts as the high bar and the other as the low bar. Both bars are flexible, helping the gymnast to connect skills from one to the other.
vault: A runway of approximately eighty feet in length, leading to a springboard and a padded table at one end. The gymnast runs full speed toward the table, using the springboard to launch herself onto it; she then pushes off with her hands, moving into a series of flips and/or twists before landing on the mat behind the table.
Yurchenko vault: A vaulting move that begins with a round-off onto the springboard, followed by a back handspring onto the table; the gymnast then pushes off into a series of flips and/or twists before landing on the mat. This style vault was named after Soviet gymnast Natalia Yurchenko.
Dominique Moceanu
Sixteen years since first gracing the Olympic stage, 1996 Olympic gold medalist Dominique Moceanu continues to inspire countless fans and young athletes all over the world. Recognized as the youngest U.S. Senior National Champion (at age thirteen) and the youngest US Olympic champion (at age fourteen) in the history of the sport, Dominique remains active in the gymnastics community through her involvement with camps and clinics across the country. She also delivers personal messages about motivation, focus, and healthy living in her speaking engagements and charitable appearances. Now the mother of two, Dominique continues to extend her résumé with personal and professional milestones, reflecting a distinct evolution beyond her gold-medal years.
Alicia Thompson is the author of Psych Major Syndrome and has had short stories published in Girls’ Life magazine. She became obsessed with gymnastics after watching Dominique Moceanu in the 1996 Olympics, although the closest she’s ever gotten to doing gymnastics herself was vaulting over the living room couch (her mom hated that). Alicia lives in Riverview, Florida, with her husband and young son.
The Go-for-Gold Gymnasts Page 13
