Tears for fears

I watch Coach P. carefully those first weeks. In the beginning he works mostly with the older girls. The girls simultaneously become my biggest fans. "Are we going to beam with you or Coach P.?" they ask. "With you, right? Please?"

Coach P. operates quietly. "May I step in?" he says instead of talking over us other coaches. He has drills for the girls, some of which we've used and some that are new. He's all about repetition. Routines, routines, routines. More routines. Very reasonable.

It's in the warm-ups that Coach P. earns his reputation.

Kasey sits in her split. The girls chatter as usual. Then Coach P. approaches and pushes her the extra half-inch to the ground.

I don't expect Kasey to flinch. She's tough. More flexible than the other Level 5's.

Instead she starts crying.

In those first weeks, at least one girl cries per practice. Larissa refuses to enter the gym for warm-ups, sitting in the lobby with six-year-old stubborness. If they don't cry during splits, one will during conditioning. The strength training is not revolutionary, but like the routines, there's a lot. Many a squat-jump ensues. Alejandra has breathless, dramatic episodes. Parents call complaining that their children can't walk the next day. Coach P. tries a fun leap frog-type game, but Chloe falls over Amy and hurts her hand, and the tears continue.

As for John, Greg, and me? We can't help but love it.