Gym Fathers

When I allude to parental complaints at the gym, it's almost unanimously the mothers. The girls' fathers surface at meets. They applaud, videotape, fall asleep during the awards (as Kasey's father once did).

The mothers push their girls. They scrutinize, watch through the window at the end of practice, ask questions, throw in their two cents as we politely smile. They say their daughters aren't good enough.

I got caught in the crossfire between Maya and her mother. It was one of Maya's good days. She'd just returned from gymnastics camp and worked out with motivation and focus.

"Want to see my giants?" Maya said to her mother. "I just need John to spot me."

"Spot you?" Maya's mother frowned.

"I only need a little spot--"

"I didn't pay all this money for you to go to camp so you could goof off and do giants with a spot." Maya's mother shakes her head. "We've been putting a lot of money into gymnastics since you were two. No more messing around. You're going to States this year. We need to get serious."

Maya qualified to States quite handily last season. But she had a championship game, or a music performance, or a dance recital, or some other conflict the same weeked. She says nothing now.

I wonder if they realize I'm still standing here.

Sometimes the fathers arrive at the gym to pick up their gymnasts. Kelsey had just learned a full-twisting front layout into the pit, and after practice she showed her father. "Shock" and "awe" would best describe the look on his face. "Whoa!" he said.

"That's all he would say on the drive home," Kelsey said at the next practice. "He was, like, amazed!"

Let's hear it for the dads!