The Triumvirate

Ever since Coach P. came around, my stress went down. Why's that? Well, if a man from the former U.S.S.R. hits the same roadblocks I do with these ladies, it proves I am not alone.

We have a nice balance at the gym and I am glad for this, that I don't need to feel uptight beside my coworkers with the need to outdo them.

Coach P. is the master coach. He can teach anyone anything. Our girls who didn't have back handsprings at this time last year have standing back tucks now. He can instill fear but maintain a sense of humor.

Greg is the utility man. He can go from spotting vault to coaching beam dance. He never reverts to, "But I'm a guy and don't know how to teach this stuff." He finds a way.

Me, I stick with beam and floor these days, and make the occasional guest appearance on vault and bars. You could say I fill the role of "tiny dancer." Fixing those turns, working those leaps, always urging those chins to be up. Oh, and comic relief.

When competitions go poorly, I can't stop analyzing them on the drive home. Why did that happen? Why does it keep happening? What can we change? Man, I'm a terrible coach.

But then I realize that Greg is probably thinking the same thoughts in his car, and that somewhere, Coach P. is still shaking his head and sighing. I am not alone.