Level 4 and Rising

Things I don't miss about actively participating as a gymnast, part two:

2012-02-06T12:26:00.000-08:00

The perma-knot in my left shoulder.

In the last two years of college, that thing solidified and would not budge. I probed it as I sat in class or idled at red lights. I asked boyfriends and friends to massage it. Sometimes, it felt like it was loosening. But moments later, it hardened back into perma-knot form.

It took a good while to ease after graduation, that ball of stress and clenched muscle. If I hit up open gym, it fired back with its old fury. But if I laid off on basically anything besides dancing, it slipped back into dormancy.

As I dragged my bag through the airport this morning, I remembered that old chestnut. The steady, tight presence that never ached in the gym, just everywhere else.

That was always the way of it, wasn't it? At the beginning of practice, you started warming up slowly, thinking of the pain, and then by the time you were standing under the bar ready to do pull-ups, you had forgotten everything.

Things I don't miss about actively participating as a gymnast:

2012-02-03T10:39:00.000-08:00

Waking up too early for school/class/life, sleepwalking through the day, and fearing that practice would kill me, just about literally. I could hurt myself in such a state.

You would think that the fear would wake me up, but instead it was a mix of worry and lethargy. Like drinking black coffee and watching your fingers twitch, wondering if eventually your brain would catch on.

I can live without that feeling.

What happens when you've been at a compulsory competition for too long

2012-01-29T09:48:00.000-08:00

Humming with the music turns to making up lyrics for the music turns to covering your ears/eyes, trying to make it go away.

Mentally judging the other routines turns to counting how many girls are left in the rotation. Is there really a whole team that still needs to compete floor while everyone else is done? Really?

The host gym has this weird thing where parents can make shout-outs to their kids, which are read out loud by the meet director during warm-ups. It's all pretty generic, like, "Dear Alex, We love you! Good luck from Mom, Dad, Timmy, and Skittles."

When you've been there for more than three hours, you start to hope that the shout-outs will sound like this:

Some [girls] have all the luck

2012-01-27T09:42:00.000-08:00

Yesterday, I had a lesson with one of the Level 5's. Cute child, well-behaved, did a nice job.

Today, my boss texts me to say that the child has lice.

...

Floor music fun for your Wednesday

2012-01-18T11:14:00.000-08:00

I really like this instrumental. I'm sure that somewhere in the NCAA, someone is doing a techno remix of it.

Plus, there are pretty colors!

You, me, and an 8.3

2012-01-16T07:48:00.000-08:00

So.

The IGC team placed second yesterday against some heavy-hitters. They won medals and so on and so forth.

Except their scores barely made it to the 8's, and occasionally, the 9's.

I judge now and I've been around gymnastics long enough to know an 8.5 routine from a 9.0. I watched a girl from another team do a spectacular vault and stick the landing. Height, amplitude, form -- it's all there. 9.3, 9.4, I thought. The score went up. 8.65.

Kathryn did a floor routine without a fall or a missed requirement. Not a 9.0 performance, but anywhere between an 8.6 to an 8.8, I thought, because that's what she normally scored.

8.0. Boom. Roasted.

She asked me what she'd done to lose 2.0, and I had to think about it through the meet. Finally I said, "I think the judge took off points for literally every step you took."

It's things like this that make kids lose interest in gymnastics. Inexplicably low scores when they do solid routines. A two-tenth difference in scores between an okay routine and a girl who was clearly much better. And as I looked around the gym, I could see that it wasn't just us. It was every team. One coach said that the floor judge did not give anyone on his team credit for a certain requirement. A dozen kids. Not one?

I don't understand judging so close to the chest. If you give someone a 9.0, and the next girl is better, you have plenty of room to go up. Hence the 9.025, the 9.050, the 9.075... Give the best their due, but don't kill the entire field in the interim.

But in the meantime, as coaches, we have a few choices. We can get pissed at the scores. (Check.) We can get pissed at the kids. And/or we can try to keep them afloat.

"I'm not even going to get an 8," Amy says worriedly before her floor routine.

At this rate, no, she won't. "Look, I don't care what you get," I tell her. "Do a nice routine and don't worry about it, okay?"

The words were by no means a magical inspirational salve, but I wanted to make it clear: sometimes, there's only so much a gymnast can do, and you have to let the rest go.

Conversations with a gymnast that I have coached for ~3 years

2012-01-12T18:48:00.000-08:00

"Do you have a job?" nine-year-old Colleen asks.

"Yes, I have several," I say, and list them for her.

"Oh," she says. "I didn't know that you worked here."

"What did you think I do, hang out?"

The tell-tale smile proves that I'm right.

Internet memes, or how to be a terrible role model

2012-01-11T20:47:00.000-08:00

There's many a practice where the older girls are giggly to the point where they can't get a thing done. They crack each other up. The tiniest phrase or word or stumble sends them off. Then they have to repeat/reenact it countless times.

Coach P. ignores them and works with the younger girls. Greg shakes his head. Sometimes I yell and the entire gym goes silent. Then they continue, but in whispers.

Other times, well...

They're practicing their beam routines, fairly productively, and it slips out of me: "Imagine Tebowing in a routine?"

Boom. Done. All of them more focused on their routines than they've ever been besides maybe at States. "I got it, I got it!" Natalie, the oldest, yells.

"Me, too, right here!" Kathryn says.

Kasey milks the pose for an extra moment.

Yep. Coach Instigator.

Ho, ho, ho!

2011-12-25T20:15:00.000-08:00

Two months and two days later, a blog post!

I've spent the end of this summer and the fall trying to mentally distance myself from gymnastics when I am outside of the gym. I'm still coaching. The kids are still cracking me up. I'm also now in the judging arena, which is a weird little universe with rules spoken and not.

So why the mental distance?

1.) I'm trying to imagine myself as a real person. When people ask what I do for a living, I intentionally place coaching as the second or third job on the list, not the first.

2.) I fear that by being too into the sport, I will both not be a real person, and will be disappointed.

Said disappointment would stem from the girls' competitive success (or lack thereof). You see, our kids are no longer the afterthoughts. I'm not saying they walk into the gym and the competition falls to their knees and begs for mercy, but they're good for several medals, some first places, and a team award.

Do I enjoy the success? Heck, yeah. Not in a creepy stage mom way (or so I hope). I'm proud of the kids. But I was proud of them even when they were little disasters forgetting the Level 5 floor routine.

A shift, however, at the beginning of this season. I felt myself less understanding of the cute blunders and the bent knees and the inevitable 7's on bars. One of the Silvers was at the end of a fantastic beam routine when she fell doing a silly, froofy turn. Even the judge looked upset that she fell.

"What did you do that for? We took that out!" I said as soon as she walked over. And thus she hid in a corner and cried as her 8.75 was raised.

I did not feel good about this.

Less of a tolerance for the all of the above makes me a better coach. I know that. But I just...I don't know. I just can't reconcile myself with the idea of being that person, the one who makes a kid cry because she made a mistake. The world didn't end. The wrath of God didn't rain down upon us as she fell from the beam.

So these months have been an effort in stepping back and saying, What is all of this really about? Still working on that answer.

Keeping it cool

2011-10-23T19:17:00.000-07:00

Too cool?

Yesterday, the kids had their first meet of the season. It was surprisingly disaster-free (everyone made it over the table, nobody melted down on beam) until bars, when young Larissa jumped to the high bar, peeled off, and landed on her neck.

Coach P., who had been standing next to the high bar, immediately dropped to the mat to assist her. There was the tense moment when we all watched: Is she okay? Will she get up?

She did get up, but she was in tears. Coach P. had her salute to the judges and then brought her to the side, where folks from the host gym arrived with ice.

What did I do? I set the board for Colleen. She stepped onto it, looking at Larissa with concern.

"Let's go, Colleen," I said.

Now I'm wondering if Larissa's mom thinks I was insensitive, or negligent, or something of the sort. But as soon as Coach P. went over to her, I knew that my role was to keep the kids calm and keep them moving.

When a kid goes down at the gym, I do the same thing. Keep the world turning. Do not yell, do not go running. I am not the one to play the first responder, although it has happened at times. But then, too, I maintain the same demeanor. Send a kid for an ice pack, sit with the injured girl while making sure the others are occupied, start telling jokes when it appears that she's okay, just scared.

But maybe too detached? Today makes me wonder.

That awkward moment

2011-10-04T22:17:00.000-07:00

when a kid's parent friends you on Facebook.

What do you do?

So far, I've left the request hanging in the "yet-to-respond" pile. But another one hath arrived.

I don't want to reject. I know I can set it so that if I accept, they can't seem much of my wild and crazy (yep, so wild and crazy) life.

But then they can message me. And poke me. And send me requests for Farmville or whatever game's all the rage these days.

Once again: what's a sister to do?

Eureka!

2011-10-03T21:36:00.000-07:00

I love that moment where you find a way to reach the unreachables.

Young Mariah embodies the phrase, "She wouldn't hurt a fly." Instead, she'd probably gaze at it and blink in wonder as it tried to suck her blood.

When you work with Mariah one-on-one, she's with you. She focuses as best she can. But when she's just one of the group, as everyone must inevitably be during practice, she moves about in a rather lost manner. The basic things you emphasized in one-on-one time -- pointed toes, straight legs, the finer stuff -- disappears entirely. You repeat yourself. She nods, then continues to bend her legs and drift along through her routines.

What was it that worked so well during the private lessons that was lost on her now, besides the extra attention?

Then I remembered.

"Mariah, I'm going to judge your routine," I said when she came over to the beam closest to me. "You have to get a 9.0."

Her eyes widened. "Oh, no!"

But what happened? Toes pointed. Legs straightened. Turns completed and cartwheels stayed on the beam.

In a word: magic.

"I would do anything for love"

2011-09-29T10:14:00.000-07:00

Meatloaf should have added, "Or for a brownie."

Over my few years here, I've witnessed many an incident of parent-gymnast bribery:

"If you get your kip, you'll get a cell phone."

"If you do your back walkover on high beam, you can have brownies."

"If you don't cry after your bar routine, we'll go to the mall."

Does it work? Kinda sort. Would they have accomplished the skills (or not crying) anyway? Probably, eventually.

I bring this up because Coach P. is concerned about the motivation of the Level 5s, who are a potential disaster waiting to happen. He's hit the conundrum that I've experienced many a time with the older girls: if you yell, they get sad, but don't work harder. If you're encouraging, they fool around. If you're somewhere in between, nothing happens.

It might be time to break out the baking sheet.

I don't give a damn 'bout my reputation

2011-09-26T09:42:00.000-07:00

(But I'd like the kids to be looked upon well.)

There are the coaches who embrace the judges and ask about their children. The coaches who know every judge by name and have a history. The coaches who seem to eke out that extra advantage.

Then there's us.

I don't converse with judges more than necessary. Many of them remember me from my competitive days -- they'll call me by name -- but there's not much else to say. Whenever there's an inquiry, I send in one of the male coaches so they can work their manly magic. I get nervous. Maybe that's it.

Since we started an IGC program, there have been whispers. One person heard from this person that the judges have said, Those girls are much better now. Their scores and placements reflect this.

Still. You wouldn't watch a meet and think, What's up with those scores? Those girls are getting extra tenths because of their gym name. We're not at that point. (Yet?) And is it really that desirable for the kids to get inflated scores? I say nay. But, of course, it will happen inevitably, if not to us.

In addition, the judges don't approach me to say things like, "What great routines." My friends who work at the well-known gyms say they're experienced it: judges coming up to them after the rotation or after the meet, unsolicited. I suppose that's cool. I suppose it could happen one day.

But if our kids are getting the same -- or higher -- scores than the fabled gyms, I'll happily live without the pat on the back.

hey, blog, hey!

2011-09-25T09:09:00.000-07:00

It's been a long hot summer. At least, I think it was hot. I was in the gym for much of it. (In the AC -- YEAH!)

To borrow from Santana's "Maria, Maria," the rich are getting richer and the poor are getting poorer. Which is to say that the girls who came to practice regularly (who were, for the most part, already our better girls) have continued to improve. And those who didn't show up for the entire summer, or one day a week, didn't exactly accomplish anything.

I was pleased by the discipline the kids displayed, especially our older kids. They were the first to complain about the summer schedule: "But we can't go to beach! What if our friends want to hang out?" (Rest assured that they had the majority of the hours in the day to hit up the beach.) But those who complained the most ended up having the best attendance, and with little 'tude in the gym to boot. It's the latter that's always the miracle.

As the season quickly approaches, the IGC girls look solid. You couldn't always say that. But now, it's true. They'll go out there and perform anywhere between great and serviceably, but the embarrassing times will be fewer.

The Level 4's have become Level 5. This does, in fact, have the potential to be scary. Front handsprings over the table look like slow, slow handstands falling to the floor. Bars are gross. Quite gross. The thing is that the kids don't seem to mind at all. But they will mind when they go to a competition and don't win any awards. The true motivation for our youth.

Whenever the new Level 4's perform a beam or floor routine, something that is beautiful and pristine in our world (a work of art, a statue) weeps. But I like this new batch because almost all of them catch on quickly. They're young and hyper and all demand my attention at once. I almost went hoarse trying to teach them the beam routine en masse. Yet there's some real ability buried beneath the flexed toes and splayed fingers.

The question is, do I have the patience and the skill to unearth it? I hope so, so long as I don't lose my voice.

Empathy pangs

2011-07-14T09:52:00.000-07:00

Today, I'm sore.

Abs wince when I laugh or cough. Back tightens when I sit against the car seat. Shoulders tender from spotting children/saving a few lives.

Two emotions simultaneously:

I feel out of shape;
I like the hurt; I feel like I'm doing something good for myself.

By Wednesday, the gymnasts complain, "I'm sore." They still have two more days of conditioning and practice to push through.

"I couldn't walk down the stairs this morning," Jamie says dramatically (but her presence at practices proves that she found a way, apparently).

"My back is killing me."

"My legs are soooooooo tired."

And so on.

Sympathy says, "Aw, that's too bad." Empathy says, "I know exactly how you feel."

I think that as coaches, we need to maintain empathy as we push the athletes. We want them to become stronger, faster, more flexible, more capable of enduring floor routines and bar routines. But we also have to remember what it feels like.

The fatigue. The feeling of, "There's no way I can do one more." The "my legs might fall off of me when I walk down the stairs." The "let me check how many muscles hurt before I try to get out of bed."

We cannot become so far removed from our own experiences, so satisfied with our methods, that we forget.

Physiologically speaking

2011-07-13T18:55:00.000-07:00

As I pranced around the gym this evening, my left foot rolled and I fell to the floor.

Then I rolled around, getting the sting out, moving quickly so nobody would see my face. I knew immediately: not so bad. My ankle wouldn't swell and if I gave it a moment or two, I'd be able to run around again.

I broke my foot about four years ago. Landed a Tsuk on my side and groaned. One of the doctors said he was impressed that I didn't break my ankle -- which would have made the recovery much longer.

Compare this to one of my friends. One morning practice back in the day, we were sashaying about the floor to warm up. She was smiling and laughing even though it was 8 am. In the next instant, she was on the floor crying. Rolled ankle. Out for two months. She could never stop spraining or breaking her ankles. At the beginning of practice, she laced up her braces the way basketball players prepare for the game.

Some of my gymnasts are this way, too. Amy rolls her ankle and it immediately swells purple and blue. Brittany spends about half of every practice icing.

It seems that despite preventative measures and conditioning, at the end of the day, it's all about how you were born. There's only so much you can do to change your natural construction.

Can you hear me?

2011-07-10T21:27:00.000-07:00

I've spent my mornings teaching writing and the afternoons coaching, and I've come to observe a similar phenomenon.

Talk talk talk and the kids slump, stick their feet out, gaze at some point behind me. For the young writers, it's the window. For the gymnasts, it's the pit.

"What did I just say?" I say.

They repeat it verbatim without making eye contact.

Maybe it's a specific task. Or maybe it's one of those talks about hard work and diligence, about attitude. The kind of talks where the kids give you an attitude without saying a word or showing that they're paying attention.

Yet the next day, or the next event, or the next writing task, it's these kids who have snapped in. They ask, "Can I try one more time?" when you tell them to get a drink. They bust out a poem when you think they've fallen asleep.

It all sinks in.

The world's longest competition season

2011-06-14T20:10:00.000-07:00

has finally concluded!

The kids already ask, "Do we get new routines?"

Is it wrong that I want to take the next month (or two, or three) and go backpack through South America?

Floor Music Friday, straight out of our Italian restaurant

2011-06-10T07:32:00.000-07:00

And we're back, folks, with Floor Music Friday!

And there was much rejoicing.

Anywho: this week's pick for potential floor music goes out to the Piano Man.

There is the wistful, classic opening (1:02 - 1:43).

The playful and whimsical center (2:24 - 3:03 -- after 2:48, the vocals cut out).

This rocking part (4:29 - 4:52).

And the conclusion, grander and yet more wistful than before (5:55 - 6:27; 6:49 to the end).

Heck, I may try to cut this one myself.

The art of the chuck

2011-06-07T20:20:00.000-07:00

For anyone out there who has done junior high or high school gymnastics, you know where I'm coming from.

How did I learn a front tuck off of beam? A mom who was a volunteer coach for our middle school team stood next to the beam one practice, and we all tried it. No drills. A nice, battered four-inch mat covering the gym floor served as our landing area.

But I can't just have my kids chuck it. Right?

Ankles. Knees. More ankles. Hyperextension. I can see it all.

A few of the Bronze kids competed roundoffs and front handsprings off of beam as their dismounts this season. I'd like to teach them a real (read: salto or aerial) dismount. However, two of them already have a history of ankle injuries and one has patellar tendonitis. So I will need to proceed with caution with the fragile ones.

Which leads me to an interesting juncture: coming up with progressions for a skill that I learned in one fell swoop. Breaking down something that I can do intuitively but now need to explain. Much like teaching grammar, though hopefully more fun.

The other life

2011-06-05T17:04:00.000-07:00

In keeping with the discussion of "real coaches":

The main reason I write this blog is because I enjoy coaching: the stories, the subsequent struggles, and the victories (when they happen). Why do I coach? Because I enjoy it. And that comes from seeing the kids enjoy themselves.

I believe that kids can, and should, have fun in competitive sports. Sports serve as a beautiful metaphor for many aspects of life. But your daughter's Level 4 gymnastics meet is not the culmination of her (or your) life.

I love seeing my girls win. I'm proud, they're proud, parents are happy. It's good for business and morale. But I wouldn't look forward to work at the gym if the girls were robots who focused only on gymnastics. I'm glad that they have personalities and way too much to talk about. If I remain their coach, I'm confident that they won't walk away from gymnastics emotionally traumatized.

So what about me? What are my goals? Whatever I do in my real life, I'd like to continue coaching. I'd like to learn more and teach more difficult skills. But for me, as with the kids, I need the outside life. Other dreams. Other places.

Too good to not repost

2011-06-01T08:44:00.000-07:00

From Adie:

"I overheard one team's coach reminding the girls that they get 20$ for every first place finish... Whaaaaaaa!?!"

?!

It's like kids who get major money when they lose a tooth. What happened to the thrill of one dollar under your pillow? What happened to the awesomeness of standing on first place with your gold medal? Since when does a coach need to bribe a kid to WIN?

Besides, is that even legal? Someone call the NCAA.

That "real coach" swagger

2011-05-26T08:27:00.000-07:00

Having had the opportunity to be around coaches (and gymnasts, and the smell of hot dogs) for a very long weekend, I'd like to share some areas of dissent. I'd also like to share huge, gaping holes between bullet points, because otherwise they're all smushed together.

Pot bellies who call the kettle black. You know what I mean. Large-bellied coaches who criticize their gymnasts for lack of core strength and/or fitness. Okay, Coach, you may have had a great career as a slim and trim athlete. But who are you to berate your girls when you clearly don't follow the same principles?

Music choice...or lack thereof. Some of the teams we competed against were tremendous. As a result, all of the kids had the same floor routine. That's okay. But can they at least have different music, or several music pieces to choose from? There's a reason this isn't the compulsories.

"Hail to the no" hair. Huge bows, feathers, fake flowers, ribbons that belong on birthday gifts. In moderation, cute (maybe). In excess, not so cute. Matching hairstyles seem to be a religion for some teams. As mentioned above, it can create a cute, unified look. But the team that dominated all of the levels, all weekend, did not have a mandated hairstyle. Which leads me to whisper loudly: "The judges don't care what your hair looks like as long as it's out of your face."

Too cool for the kids. Gymnastics meets are long. There is much waiting around and doing a whole lot of nothing. I noticed that some coaches didn't sit anywhere near their kids for most of the competition, only approaching them when it was time to compete. Maybe this is to foster some kind of independence, I'm not sure, or to reinforce a barrier. Either way, I think it's a missed opportunity to get to know the kids better, as people and not just as gymnasts. And vice versa.

And we arrive at my personal favorite:

Public humiliation. Greg and I are chilling there and two girls from another team are not a foot away, crying. It's a cramped space, and you know the "I hate my life" tears. They just can't be held back. Heck, my first year at Level 9, I cried at every meet, and I was 16. It was a really excellent season. Anyway, Coach of the Crying Girls approaches. He rips into the girls. Tells them that they fell off beam because they've been lazy for the past two months, and they're out of shape, and concludes it with, "I'm disappointed in you." Not only are Greg and I, total strangers to this team, sitting there, but so are the rest of the girls' teammates. Everyone hears it.

As a coach (and a person), I get frustrated. You get frustrated. He/she/we all get frustrated. But to say it simply, there's a time and a place.

Shady's back, tell a friend

2011-05-23T21:41:00.000-07:00

Through endless sessions and the same music played over and over and over again -- I've made it through!

I am here to report that we have:

1 (one) state beam champion;
1 (one) state floor champion;
zero falls on beam!!
medals for all of the girls (beyond the "thanks for showing up" medal);
very few broken dreams.

I was nervous in the early sessions because the scoring was tight. Few 9.0's on any event. Then the scores went up (or maybe the performances improved), but I stayed nervous, and maybe got even more nervous as the girls placed higher and higher in each session.

I just wanted to see one of them win.

Victory does not change these girls, though. They still come to practice the day after and complain when they have to do strength, and giggle during routines, and trip over themselves. I like them that way: successful but silly. Still being whoever they want to be.

"Where is your gym?" a coach from another team asked at the competition, and I told her, and she looked puzzled. She had not heard of us. But that's okay. We have put the word out.

Bubble wrap

2011-05-10T08:00:00.000-07:00

is what we need to put the girls in between now and the competition.

(Evidently upcoming meets bring out the blogging fiend in me.)

Two girls hurt themselves in February. Freak things: one stumbled off the edge of a beam mat and the other landed awkwardly. The first is healed, but not going to States, as she was cleared last week to return to sports. The second is still on crutches and the doctors aren't clear on what she did to herself (good luck telling that one to Mom).

This week, a third child hurt her ankle by jumping from the low bar and missing the high bar. Another left practice early the other day because her forearm hurt (??).

There wasn't too much that could have prevented the first two injuries. (I wasn't there for the high bar mishap, but Colleen, age 8, solemnly swears that "I told Hollie she shouldn't jump to the high bar but she didn't listen.")

And the forearm, well, I have no idea what's going on with that. Normally I'd be more sympathetic. But she has a penchant for drama, and not wanting to do bars, so this seems pretty convenient. And if it is, in fact, a "convenient pain," she'd better suck it up. Her bar routine consists of six skills, the most difficult being two kips. We need the 8's. We could ideally use 8.5's. If someone gets a 9 on bars, I will throw a fiesta.

NO MORE SILLY INJURIES.

::end scene::

She's Still Kickin'

2011-05-09T21:53:00.000-07:00

Today I'm on beam with the Level 4's, and I've just about lost patience with the fact that while all of these girls can do cartwheels on beam, some back walkovers, they do not, on their lives, understand how to keep their arms up while jumping. Or how to create a split-like position in a leap.

"Can you do it?" asks Colleen.

"Yes," I say.

"Can you show us?"

And these mini-people stop and watch as I step onto the low beam and leap. ('Tis best not to risk straddling the beam when you're trying to demonstrate a point.)

"Wow," Colleen whispers to Larissa. "That was amazing."

I only put myself in the position to demonstrate things I'm good at, like leaps and jumps and kips with the bar down low to show that yes, kiddies, you can hold your feet up, and I'm taller than you! (Some of you.)

Nothing very impressive, but it's a little flash, a reminder: hey, I know what these things are like.

Stateside, or "Are we there yet?"

2011-05-08T09:10:00.000-07:00

We are super close to States, which will be my first time coaching at such an event. I know it's basically the same as all of the other competitions, and that for twelve-year-olds competing at a fairly low level, the stakes aren't high.

I've been looking forward to States, mainly because we've had some winning performances this year and it'd be pretty sweet to say we've coached a state champion. Put a little announcement on the website, have the parents realize that we actually know what we're doing, etc.

Except this week, the girls have been driving me up the wall and I'm now on the warpath.

In my day, if States were approaching and my coaches had signified that this was a big deal, which I knew it was, I got to work. I was always working. You wouldn't find me sitting on the floor giggling at the end of the vault runway, or missing squat-ons, or pouting because my coach made me work on a skill that I struggled with. Our girls excel at all three of these things, and then some.

I don't understand.

I've made motivational (at least in my mind) speeches. I've yelled and threatened. I've offered encouragement. But at the end of the day, there are two possible outcomes for States:

Great Success: Overall, strong performances. If that's the case, we'll have some kids on the podium. Maybe even in the top three. A team award will be won -- not first place, but a real placement, not the "thanks for showing up" team award.

The problem with Great Success is that they'll think they're great, which they do after every meet. They'll think that the amount of work they put in is enough. For a few, it is. For the rest, not really.

The other possibility is:

Epic fail: Oh, Epic Fail, you're always lurking! This would mean some disasters and an overall lackluster effort. Few to no awards, and the "oh, yeah, we did compete here today" team award.

Lately I'm not opposed to Epic Fail. It's humbling. It's an opportunity for introspection.

Except I know, I know that instead of, "Well, I only come to practice two days a week and maybe I should have stepped up my game" or "Hey, my coaches were right when they said I needed to lean over the bar in my squat-on," it will turn into the Blame Game: "I didn't like the bars at the meet. I was tired. So-and-so was injured and that's why we didn't get a team award." And so on.

So I look forward to States. With caution.

Floor Music Friday

2011-04-29T07:41:00.000-07:00

When I was 16 and super into Incubus, I told my high school coach that I wanted the intro to this song as floor music.

She listened and was "meh" about it.

I see her point. It's repetitive and I ended up sticking with my usual music of dramatic symphonies.

But I like the funkiness and the darker edges of this intro. I think in the beginning, there could be all sorts of interesting body shapes to match the music. A gymnast with a rocker's soul.

Nowadays, with all the music editing software out there (not like I went to high school back when you had to walk uphill both ways in the snow, but it's much more accessible now), I think this music could stand a chance. Cut some of the repetition. Maybe remix it with something else. (If we were in NCAA, it'd probably get inexplicably remixed with Lady Gaga.)

Maybe it will never see the light of day beyond my old Make Yourself CD. But it still makes my Floor Music Friday cut.

Don't hate; appreciate

2011-04-28T17:44:00.000-07:00

You gotta give the girls some props.

They drive you up the wall, they complain, they cry, they inadvertently pick wedgies in the middle of their floor routines.

But I've said it before and I'll say it again: they're the ones who get out there and do the routines in front of the judges.

I've also come to believe that they take in more than they let on. We give them correction after correction. I like to throw in some pep talks. They nod, giggle a little, glance off into space. But later on, they're more precise. I hear them talking about States and how they want to win another trophy. Little things.

Last year, I used to make little things out of cardstock for them every meet: an inspirational quote coupled with a photo of a famous gymnast. They loved them, but now that the team has grown exponentially, I don't have as much time to crank such things out each meet.

So this year, my boss and I are in cahoots for a surprise to give them at States: festive flip-flops with fabric ties that match the team colors. If I know my girls, they'll be super psyched. And hey, they're the ones who have put in the work.

Floor Music Friday

2011-04-22T09:54:00.000-07:00

Whoa! Maybe I'm on to something.

Thanks to YouTube, Aliya Mustafina's old floor music, sans the vocal assistance. I'm kinda digging it this way. Could make for a lovely, mature, powerful routine.

Here's her routine from Rotterdam, when she won the all-around title:

Too much lingering in the corners. I think that in the lower levels, where there is time to dance, there's potential for fantastic choreography to this music. It's interesting, though, how Mustafina doesn't have to do very much dance to have a presence. She takes ownership by stepping onto the floor.

Coming of Age, or "My Life is So Hard Because I'm Thirteen"

2011-04-20T22:40:00.000-07:00

I knew this day would come.

Or, should I say, "these days." Suddenly they're all turning thirteen. It's an epidemic. "My birthday was Sunday." "Mine is in ten days." "Mine is in May."

Hold up. Slow down. Why do all the hormones and the boy woes and the eyeliner and the stomping-off-to-get-water have to happen to all of you simultaneously?

So it's not really "all." Just a few girls. But I've seen it approaching. They are getting taller, some a little heavier. They sigh more when you give them a correction, get frustrated easily. Tears. Tears. Tears. Moaning and groaning. Repeat.

I know which girls I can push and which I can't. You can be harsher with some, in both tone and assignment. Make them start over (again, again) and they'll be frustrated, but it won't end their day. Raise my voice. They might get a little cranky, but they'll make visible attempts to improve. Others don't need a harshness with their push. They'll keep working.

The sensitive ones (so far, two of the freshly-minted teenagers) are another story. When I push, there are tears. Outbursts and red faces. In the end, inactivity. The sensitive ones are freakin' stubborn. They won't budge. You know they'll be writing sad poetry in their journals, just like their coach at that age.

When I say nothing as they miss cartwheel after cartwheel on high beam or squat-on after squat-on on bars, skills they know how to make easily, there are still tears. But my blood pressure is lower. I'd call that a victory.

Seriously, though, I'm not sure how to handle these super-sensitive souls, besides pawning them off to Greg (which I do sometimes), giving them corrections that upset them for God-knows-why, yelling, speaking quietly, positively reinforcing, making deals ("do[insert number] of these and you can move on"), resisting the urge to send them home (though the threat rises on occassion).

Thoughts/sad poems/etc.?

NCAA links

2011-04-17T22:07:00.000-07:00

(For Emeline, and the world!)

Kim Jacob, 9.95

Watch more video of 2011 NCAA Women's Gymnastics National Championships on gymnastike.org

Kayla Hoffman. Super, super clean.

Watch more video of 2011 NCAA Women's Gymnastics National Championships on gymnastike.org

And Megan Ferguson from Oklahoma, with a very cool beam routine, as well as crazy hands (this clip from another meet). She looks incredibly small. Turns out she's 4'11", a.k.a. barely shorter than me. Oops.

Alabama wins!!!

2011-04-16T15:41:00.000-07:00

I've never followed college gymnastics too closely, but as I took a gander this season, Alabama impressed me the most. Clean and fierce. Kayla Hoffman is lovely and Kim Jacobs is a rock star on beam -- and just a freshman!

w00t!

working hard to get my fill

2011-04-15T11:12:00.000-07:00

In my real life, whatever that means, I have a job that, apparently, my coworkers like to skip out on. Therefore, I'm chilling "in the office" on my laptop on this beautiful Friday, following the preliminary sessions of the NCAA Championships. Life is good.

Another treatise on motivation

2011-04-12T08:40:00.000-07:00

(but not lack thereof -- at least, not today).

We have six weeks until the state championships. That's a long stretch without a competition. How do we keep the girls fresh and interested, not burned out, while still perfecting their skills on the way to States? How do we, the coaches, not get bored?

Here's what seems to work so far:

Switching up events: Greg and I decided to swap events. I haven't coached the older girls on bars since the compulsory days. Alas, since they no longer need to be spotted for every skill in their routines, I can watch and crack down on connections, form, casts, the finer things in life. Meanwhile, Greg goes to beam to create tiny dancers. It throws the girls off a little. It's nice.
Mixing in new skills: As flexibility in jumps and leaps continues to make me weep internally, those must be done every day. But new skills are at the end of the tunnel. "Practice back handsprings on the line," I say to quiet Christina, who looks surprised yet intrigued.
Rearranging the order: If it seems like a process is working, I still like to mix it up and have the girls practice skills at different points in the workout.
Prospects of glory: Because who doesn't like a pep talk about potential medals and trophies?

pobrecita Mustafina!

2011-04-08T12:57:00.000-07:00

Even in pain, she looks regal.

A slice of awesome

2011-04-05T22:10:00.000-07:00

WOWZA.

Mind Games

2011-03-31T11:08:00.000-07:00

Get yo concentration on.

I don't recall any of my coaches telling us to sit still and visualize our routines. But I did read it one hundred times over in my various gymnastics books/biographies. The power of mental imagery! All of the testimonials: "I was injured and visualized my routines so much that when I returned to the gym, I didn't lose a thing."

Truth be told, I always struggled a bit with visualization. I switched in and out of being in my own head to watching myself. While still being in my head. If you know what I mean. A flip from internal view to external, like a camera following the action. Either way, visualization certainly never hurt any of my performances and it was a convenient way to zone out in school/the car/boring conversations.

"Everyone sit down and close your eyes," I tell the older girls.

"I don't want people watching me while I have my eyes closed!" Jamie says, and throws herself face down on the mat.

Okay.

"You're going to visualize your beam routine, and I'm going to time you. When you're done, open your eyes and look at me. Don't say anything. Don't move around."

The goal: to visualize the routine in real time.

Not surprisingly, there are suppressed giggles and full-out laughter in the first few tries. But then they quiet. Some eyes open after thirty seconds, others after 1:30, but most are on time.

"Where were you when you did your routine?" I ask Jamie.

"Uh. Here."

"What time of day was it?"

"It was sunny," she says, looking confused.

"I was at the World Championships," Kelsey throws in. "Everyone was cheering for me."

I explain that the more detailed the images are, the more engaged they are in the mental experience. (Or maybe it's just the writer in me.) I say that we can be physically prepared but we also need to train our minds. That this is a tool they can practice outside of the gym. Nod nod nod.

Will it help? Who knows. Will it hurt? At least I know that it won't.

Level 3 and Rising?

2011-03-28T19:36:00.000-07:00

Courtesy of the lovely Anon, here are the proposed compulsory changes for 2013 and beyond: http://usagym.org/PDFs/Women/Junior%20Olympics/2013-2020Finalelementlist-March2011.pdf

Thoughts/Feelings/Reactions/Word-Like Things:

Is there hope in the darkness? Is the mill circle FINALLY not (completely) required?
I'm intrigued by this shift of the skills to the next level down. I'm not sure if I like it or dislike it, hence "intrigued." But I'd imagine that Level 3 will become a "real level," as opposed to its present "sometimes real and sometimes just for funsies," the way it is around here.
And for all the literature out there about the present Level 4 as a "sometimes real and sometimes just for funsies" level, we all know that's a lie. In fact, we all know that any system which promotes "fun gymnastics" will invariably have participants (a.k.a. coaches and gyms) that take it very, very seriously. I digress.
I also imagine that IGC will continue to gain ground in this next cycle. I mean: back handspring on beam in Level 5? I recognize that it's "optional," but we all know that those serious, serious participants will not allow their gymnasts to compete anything less.
Which leads me to my biggest concern: By adding another level of optional competition, are we increasing the potential for burn-out for these little phenoms who fly through compulsories?

P.S.

2011-03-27T10:44:00.001-07:00

Somehow, I just managed to accidentally start following myself. And I can't make it go away. Win.

Like a real team or something

2011-03-27T10:40:00.000-07:00

Whoa! I'm finally back.

Yesterday, I was in the midst of saying something to Jamie on beam. I have no idea what. But when I finished, she said suddenly, "We're doing really good this year."

This is true.

Last year, the gym had zero team trophies. So far this year, with the combined powers of Level 4, IGC Copper, and IGC Bronze, we have eight. Bronze keeps winning second or third as a team. Copper won their first meet and took second last time with just three competing. The Level 4's have become a force, led by Larissa, who never scores less than a 36 all-around unless she falls (twice). Last meet they all broke into the 36's.

I feel most responsible for Bronze. Not for their success this year so much as their failures in Level 5. I keep thinking about what could have been done differently to have prevented them from that disastrous first season. Maybe they'd still be in compulsories now, and doing well with them. The traditional route. I keep thinking that their parents are thinking the same.

But the girls seem to look back gleefully. "Those were like the dark ages," Kathryn says. "Look at us now!"

It's no lie that the collective interest level, motivation, and enthusiasm has spiked dramatically with the shift to IGC. Maybe that's the important part. Maybe it never would have happened had we stayed the main course.

Dear Valeri, Look no further

2011-03-11T22:25:00.000-08:00

Clearly, WOGA needs my resume.

For all my shawties

2011-03-10T22:08:00.000-08:00

(This is in fact the same vid I posted last time. But now I call your attention to a new area.)

This here gymnast is what my friend Flo might call "beastly," and I mean that in the most complimentary way. Hilary Mauro is 4'9" and busts out that opening pass like no one's business. Like it's no big deal to run a few steps and flip twice in the air before landing.

Check her out at 9:41.

NCAA to start the day

2011-03-01T09:38:00.000-08:00

I'm not in love with this floor routine, but I am in like with it.

Music is strange, but Shayla Worley is commanding. Check out that sass in the beginning as she lowers herself to the ground. It's like, "You will all bow to me."

(starting at 1:47)

Super Epic Floor Music, Or: Getting Back in Touch With My Inner Nerd

2011-02-27T22:48:00.000-08:00

Dude. How did I fail to require that one of my girls use THIS as floor music?

Or this: lassos, boulders, and Harrison Ford, oh, my!

I was also advised to check this out. Makes me think more of figure skating music, but it's still lovely.

Thanks, Academy!

Born This Way

2011-02-20T22:10:00.000-08:00

Ah, and as the girls age closer to middle and high school, the cattiness begins.

We have a squadron of new girls, strictly IGC. Emily is a little younger than the rest of the group. She's flaky. Marches to her own drummer. All those metaphors. Genuinely a good kid who wants to make others happy, though.

The other girls didn't pay much heed to Emily until Gail started in. At first it was the little things. "What are you doing?" she'd say to Emily whenever Em unwittingly cut ahead of her or took an extra turn, all huffy-like, all "You don't know what you're doing." I made a mental note to talk to Gail about her 'tude. She tends to be 'tudey anyway, Gail does. She's 10, but she will be a delightful teenager, I'm sure.

Then McKenzie joined in. McK's a generally laidback, happy-go-lucky sort of girl, which made her open annoyance with Emily surprising. I can also see that she's the cool kid of the group; all of the girls want to be her friend. So if McK's picking on Emily, you can bet that Gail feels encouraged to continue.

"I finished!" Emily bounces over to me, hair flapping in her face.

"She didn't really do all of her handstands," McKenzie says, looking perturbed.

"Yeah, Emily, I'm only on my third one," Gail says. Her 'tude face is set.

"Why don't you girls worry a little less about Emily's handstands and more about your own?" I say.

At the end of the rotation, I take Gail and McKenzie aside. Look, I know Emily is younger than you, and sometimes she gets in your way, but that doesn't mean you can be mean to her, I say. They nod and nod.

It happens another time. My boss has a talk with the whole group. Emily, in keeping with her character, is perfectly oblivious the entire talk.

Will it happen again? Probably. Am I ready to lay down the law? Yes. Get those parents on the horn. You can be frustrated, and you can get a little annoyed, but if you're going to be mean, you can get out.

College Lite

2011-02-13T14:50:00.000-08:00

One thing I learned from college is the power of a group of screaming and cheering girls when the pressure's on and you're standing in the corner for your last tumbling pass. You may want to die. You may only think of collapse. But with that wave of sound, suddenly this is possible.

Thus I insist my girls cheer for one another, namely our older girls. (The Level 4s are still getting the hang of the whole, "Wait, is this the warm-up or the real competition?" thing.) I don't mean half-assed clapping. I mean names called out, shouts of "C'mon!" and "You got this!", wild applause even if the routine sort of sucked.

It's 9:30 pm and the girls are finally competing floor three long rotations. "I want to hear all of you," I say as the first girl salutes the judge. "You need to wake up these people."

And they do. They clap, they cheer, and after Kelsey's back tuck, they're all shouting, until I realize that Grace, who stands next to me, is just making loud noises without words, until I look at her and we both start laughing.

Whoa!

2011-02-11T10:11:00.000-08:00

Back from hiatus!

Just like our friends from New Directions.

Why the absence?

This whole "real job in accompaniment with coaching" shenanigan.
Things are going well at the gym.

In regards to the latter, I feel like I'm in a groove. There's always much to learn. But right now my methods are working. Routines look sharper, new skills are underway, scores are breaking into the 9.0's. Lately, no one has broken herself. ::knocks on guitar for good luck::

Could this mark a new era for Level 4 and Rising?

Let's find out.

Robogymnast

2011-01-21T08:33:00.000-08:00

At meets there's invariably a phenomenon: one team who has gymnasts that perform identically. Same rigidily pointed toes and straight legs. Same super stiff arms, fingers splayed apart for "artistry." But that's okay because the kids are young and they think of art as fingerpainting. Stomachs are sucked in. Shoulders thrown back. You could replace any of their faces or hide them altogether, and you would think you were watching the same girl.

How do they (the coaches) do it?

Larissa, our Level 4 rock star, scored a 9.5 on floor last meet, with an all-around score in the 36's. When she was a Level 4, Jamie scored a 9.7 on floor. She's also back from her retirement! It's only been a few weeks but her old form comes through. And Erin, our IGC I'll-try-anything-with-a-smile girl, will be competing for the first time this weekend. Even if she bombs, chances are that she'll score respectably.

What I'm getting at is these three girls, arguably our top performers, all have poise. Body tension. Fluid performances. Everything you need to bring in the desired scores. Coaching-wise, these three show that we're on the right track.

But when they perform, they look nothing like each other. While all are strong and flexible, their body types are completely different. The way they hold themselves is different.

So I return to the original question: How do you do it, coaches?

The Triumvirate

2011-01-11T09:16:00.000-08:00

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.

2000 Fail

2011-01-07T08:11:00.000-08:00

I rushed back to watch the 2000 Olympics documentary last night, and while there were inspirational stories of equestrian and much track and field, there was NO GYMNASTICS.

But upon reflection, I wonder: Were those Olympics good for anyone?

Consider:

The USA finishes in fourth place, much to the chagrin of USAG, and ten years later earns the bronze after a Chinese athlete was found to be underage at the Games.
Andreea Raducan stripped of the all-around gold after testing positive for using cold medicine.
The vault:

And some more vault:

Perhaps the gymnastics was best left out of this one.

Friendly suggestions

2011-01-06T21:14:00.000-08:00

"Good practice today," Greg says to the girls as they line up.

Kathryn's hand snakes up. "You said we had a good practice."

"Yes."

"And we didn't do bars today." Her face becomes hopeful. "Does that mean we should do bars less?"

Good try.

Betwixt the thrill and the agony

2011-01-06T09:08:00.000-08:00

If you live in the U.S. and receive the Universal Sports channel, perhaps you, like me, have been watching the "Nine Nights of Glory" -- Bud Greenspan's Olympic documentaries. Last night was Nagano 1998. Tonight, Sydney 2000. Vault and drug scandals, Svetlana Khorkina -- I'll be tuned in.

I'm sad I missed Atlanta 1996, as I am sure we saw a little Kerri Strug vaulting and Magnificent Seven, maybe even a side of Lilia Podkopayeva. Alas, life intervenes.

To get you in the Olympic spirit, just watch :10-:15:

It's still rock and roll to me

2011-01-04T20:12:00.000-08:00

My good friend suggests a song by her namesake, Florence and the Machine, with "Kiss With a Fist" as floor music. A little rock 'n roll kick. Also, you gotta love the uber low budget music video.

Made me think of Jet's "Are You Going To Be My Girl," and this instrumental definitely has solid moments (may have to omit the chanting in the background, however!).

Rock on!

Fittingly epic jams

2011-01-03T09:38:00.000-08:00

To take a page from my good friend D's book, I'm thinking 2011 should be a year of new, hopefully fantastic floor music (or potential floor music).

Will I search for it every day? Probably not. Will I post the good stuff? Indeed. Keep your ears ready.

Here's the maiden music:
"Flynn Lives" - Daft Punk

Of resolutions and other non-keepable intangibles:

2011-01-01T18:19:00.000-08:00

Between cracks about "See you next year!" at the last practice, I say, "Let's make some resolutions about our gymnastics."

No one responds. I think it's possible one or two of the older girls will, the ones who are already motivated. For the little girls, I wouldn't be surprised if a few of their parents have goals for them.

But I don't dwell on it today. Instead I clap. "And see you next year!"

You may ask, How about you, Coach?

I resolve to do as I have: to learn as much as possible, to be open to hearing and testing new techniques, to persistently search YouTube, and to maintain a sense of humor. And to blog about it all.

Merry Christmas!

2010-12-25T19:51:00.001-08:00

Wow, Homegirl can move!

The Buy-In

2010-12-23T20:41:00.000-08:00

As Incubus would sing, "Are you in?"

It's taken almost a year, many tears, many phone calls, many scowls, and many sore muscles. But the Level 4's have bought in.

Of all the levels, they have the best attendance. They come each day they're supposed to and sometimes extra. They're most likely to attend open gym sessions. A couple disappeared in the spring months but now they're back, consistently. They attend all the competitions. And they are doing well. Awards are won. Even with subpar performances, they can pulled 34's in the all-around. This is solid. This means a foundation is in place.

It took time for the parents. Some of them are easily rattled. They don't like to see the tears. They're not a fan of all the conditioning. I'm sure there will be future confrontations. But they're starting to like what they see: new skills (cartwheels on beam, back tucks on floor, kips on bars). Success at competitions. 9.0's, 9.2's, 9.5's. Standing on the podium. Yes, that sure feels good.

The Season of Giving

2010-12-21T17:33:00.000-08:00

Back in the high school varsity days, to say that our meets were slimly attended would be an understatement. At home meets, curious friends and bystanders might walk in. At away meets, my parents were our spectators. My parents are small people and don't make much noise.

So at this particular competition, as we and the other team finished warm-ups and the judges still hadn't arrived, it's safe to say that the crowd wasn't antsy.

If there was anything our team excelled at, it was entertaining ourselves. We took the free time to perform our team dance, which we may or may not have spent more time working on than our routines.

We rocked out to Christina Aguilera, did a little tumbling, and ended with our signature move: a row of spotted back tucks. We stood in a line, arms around each other's backs, and every other person did a back tuck, rolling over the arms of the people on each side. Simple, but never failed to look cool. Then we applauded ourselves wildly.

After a moment, the other team walked over.

What was about to happen? A retaliation dance? A spat culminating in "it's not called gym-NICE-tics"?

"That was so cool," they said. "Can you teach us how to do that?"

When they put it like that, how could we say no?

Eyes Wide Shut

2010-12-15T21:03:00.000-08:00

Today begins the attempt to change the team's apparent destiny (re: to finish in the middle-to-bottom of the pack).

I line the girls up in front of the mirror and tell them to practice their beam routines. Not the skills, but the arm and foot positions.

"But I can't fit my cartwheel!"

"Not the skills..."

After I repeat this several times, they understand.

They move through their routines several times. I fix arm, hand, chin positions, posture. Once they're done, I say, "Now, three routines with your eyes closed."

"Wait, what?"

"With your eyes closed."

The giggles. The falling over and grabbing each other as they squeeze their eyes shut, mouths open in concentration.

Meanwhile I pace back and forth , playing the role of the Zen yoga instructor, saying, "Feel where your body is in space. Feel what your arms are doing, where your feet are." I grab one's arm to emphasize. She nearly falls over.

Hey. I have faith.

::head against the wall::

2010-12-13T20:05:00.000-08:00

Stepping out of bounds and continuing to perform the routine...out of bounds. Countless falls on beam. Wedgies picked mid-routine.

Really, girls, really?

Question of the Day

2010-12-11T20:52:00.000-08:00

Alejandra: "Why are you so awesome?"

WIN!

And here's my question for the day:

Is a side aerial considered a salto? As I recall, no. But I could be wrong/the rules might have changed.

S/he who provides the correct answer will inspire me to do a little dance.

Update: It is NOT a salto. In case any of you were losing sleep over the answer.

A case of the headcases

2010-12-08T19:53:00.000-08:00

Meet's this weekend, and now the craziness comes out.

Scared of this skill. Scared of that skill. Sudden realizations of "Wow, I haven't been in the gym for a while, and I don't have all the skills in my routine, and that's not good." I scramble to cut music for one girl.

Many tears. Many questions from the parents -- what should she do?

I don't want to make sweeping assumptions here, but does this mean that the girls care enough to panic? If so, that's progress. Now let me grab my mop.

#1 Commonly Asked Pre-Meet Question:

2010-12-07T09:06:00.001-08:00

"What happens if I sneeze during my routine?"

Answer: I don't know. I've never witnessed such an occurrence. Naturally, I assume there's a deduction (continuity, perhaps). But maybe there's a loophole for accidental bodily functions. Who knows?

All I want for Christmas

2010-12-03T21:35:00.000-08:00

is to be done with choreographing floor routines!

Eleven down, four to gooooooo!!!

1996 Flashback

2010-12-02T22:59:00.000-08:00

1.) I was obsessed with this music when I first started gymnastics. Clearly, I hadn't yet begun my love affair with DARK, DRAMATIC, TOSSING THE BODY TO THE FLOOR music. (Maybe not so dark, but certainly dramatic, and I always threw myself to the floor at some point.)

But it's kind of rockin'...in its way:

2.) Aqui esta the gold standard. The tumbling. The dance. The 'tude. It's insane. Only Lilia could pull off music this ridiculous.

Landing On My Feet (and Face, and Sternum)

2010-12-01T10:22:00.000-08:00

Let's turn to gym nonfiction, one bio at a time.

Back in the day I was aware that "with [author name]" meant that most likely the second author had done all of the writing. The bios/autobios all ended on an upbeat note, usually leaving room for a possible comeback. Like movies that trail off for a potential sequel.

Even so, what strikes me about this book is the pain. The destruction to one's body. The excruciatingly slow rehabilitation only to be injured again. Like here:

(starts at :20)

Not to mention leaving home at age thirteen to train with Bela Karolyi, a bout with an eating disorder, struggles with confidence, and inevitably, unfulfilled dreams.
Feels like nonfiction to me.

Sideways

2010-11-30T13:59:00.000-08:00

If the Level 4's aren't enough indication that the times are a-changing at the gym, the new USAIGC girls are. Which means, once again: older girls, watch out.

The IGC B-squad has never competed before. They consist mostly of Bronze with a touch of Copper.

IGC A-team, on the other hand, is the former Level 5's and 6's. They know what competitions are like. They've been plugging away for several years now. The B-team, not as long. But there's talent in the B's. Especially Erin.

Erin has the right attitude: she enjoys gymnastics and wants to improve, she's willing to try new skills without being reckless, and she's upbeat with a sense of humor.

Two of the older girls refuse to do back walkovers on the high beam. Or on the medium beam. They are fully capable of doing both. Greg has to coax them. It's a long, frustrating process.

Once their rotation ends, the B-team comes to beam. "I really want to get my back walkover today," Erin says.

She does a few with Greg on the high beam. He steps away. She cranks them out by herself.

The next day, I fully expect her to say, "Can you spot me for a few?" That's what the other girls do. They acquire a new skill, but they don't believe in it.

Erin warms up on the low beam, then moves to the high beam without incident. "Let's put it in your routine," I say.

"Okay," she says, relaxed, unpanicked.

The older girls watch.

"Aren't they scary?" Kelsey says.

Erin shrugs. "Well, it's scary when you're going back. But not."

A touch of inspiration

2010-11-27T18:01:00.000-08:00

Aimee Walker played a role in Little Girls in Pretty Boxes, a movie I watched primarily for the stunt doubles (which included Vanessa Atler). I thought of her today and decided to search to see what had happened to her. She's deaf as well as blind in one eye. But as you'll see, she turned out just fine.

Black Friday Deals, gymnastics edition

2010-11-26T16:26:00.000-08:00

In honor of American stores and their post-Thanksgiving shopping deals, I'd like to reflect on pretty good deals I've received.

Gripes about judging will never end. Of that we can be sure of. But we'll all once in a while come across a gift. Sometimes, it's applied to us.

Honorable mentions:
-Young Mariah of the Level 4's competed a timid (to put it kindly) beam routine. She looked ready to fall off at a moment's notice, but managed to stay on. While the others received brutal scores, an 8.0 was raised for her. Was it an error? Nope, the score flasher didn't alter the score. In fact, Mariah pulled out third place in her age group. "Mariah? Really?" Coach P. said in disbelief as she scampered onto the podium.

-High school beam, senior year:
Flight series were driving me nuts. So I decided, screw them. How about competing without major anxiety? Instead, my beam routine consisted of a cartwheel, a lovely split handstand, and a variety of jumps. Under Level 9 rules, I consistently scored 8.6's and 8.7's. Good deal, I'd say.

The winner:
-At actual Level 9 meets, I had to attempt to fulfill the rules. In this particular competition, I fell on my back handspring and had no flight series. My jump connections were questionable. I landed one jump and my leg flew up for balance. I turned it into a pose. I did not stick my dismount.

The score: 8.6. Pretty sure I placed, too.

How'd that happen? No idea. The only explanation: sometimes the magic's on your side.

Happy Thanksgiving!

2010-11-25T11:56:00.000-08:00

Though she placed second all-around by a hair, let's be glad that this happened:

Volunteer Opportunities for American Cup & U.S. Championships

2010-11-24T11:12:00.001-08:00

can be found at the bottom of this page: http://www.usagym.org/pages/events/pages/premier_events.html

Not sure that it'll be as exciting as Rotterdam, but it's worth a look!

Bottoms Up

2010-11-23T23:08:00.000-08:00

I write often about motivation--namely, how the girls vacillate between excitement and apathy.

There's one factor I haven't addressed yet. For good, bad, or worse, the oldest girls in the gym--the ones who have pushed through Level 5 season after season--are the best. We have no high-level athletes yet. They can watch gymnastics on TV or online, see the girls at other meets, but when it comes to day in and day out, their teammates are swimming along beside them. There is upward movement, but it's slow.

If they can't look up, they can certainly look down.

That's where the young Level 4's are, the ones who were originally cute and tripping over themselves and flailing on the beam. They're still cute and sometimes still flail. But each day that an older girl stays at the same skill level, a younger girl breaks through.

Is this the best motivation? Is it easier to idolize than to race to keep the lead? We'll have to find out.

All I know is that when seven-year-old Colleen, who last year at this time could barely do a good round-off, runs across the floor and lands her first round-off back handspring back tuck, the older girls are watching. Some of their mouths are open. Did she just--? Yes, she did. Now what about you?

To be a rock, and not to roll

2010-11-22T20:09:00.000-08:00

My old teammate, who is also a coach these days, asked last night, "Which did you find more stressful: being a gymnast, or being a coach?"

Gymnast.

As a competitive athlete, I lived in constant fear of injury or failure. I had many wonderful, high-flying, glorious times. And many, many hours of anxiety. Most of it, I put on myself.

There are many days when I miss doing gymnastics and especially competing. But I don't miss the fear.

My gym's environment is probably the key element as to why I find coaching less stressful. We're still a new establishment. There's no long-held reputation to maintain.

Certainly, I'm nervous when it comes to parental encounters, safety, and poor performances at competitions. But I'm happy in the gym as a coach. Relaxed and alert, clapping my hands and announcing what's next.

:55

2010-11-20T21:26:00.000-08:00

"You're barely at fifty seconds," I say as Amy lands her dismount. "Let's try again."

She nods and climbs back onto the beam.

At the USAIGC bronze level, routines must fall between :50 and 1:30. The undertime penalty is a five-tenth deduction.

When my girls wobble or struggle to remember their routines, they easily make this range. When they hit and move confidently? That's when they're on the brink.

I like insurance. "Let's add a few poses. And how about a handstand?"

I'm afraid that the "few poses" are beginning to look the same across the board for the girls. A flexed knee, a hand on the hip. I try to be exotic. Add some interesting arm and hand shapes.

Amy looks at me blankly.

Back to the hand on the hip.

Brittany, on the other beam, asks about poses we made up a month ago. "What do I do here?"

I've made up seven more routines since Brittany's for the new batch of USAIGC girls. "I have no idea," I say honestly. "When in doubt, make something up."

"I like that," she says. "That's going to be my motto."

It's true. Some of the girls become lost if they're off with their floor music -- either before or ahead. Others keep moving, making up poses, maintaining a serene face that pretends, I'm supposed to be doing this until they're back on beat.

Amy tries her routine again with the new poses and the handstand. It's all a bit awkward, but she stays on. "1:05," I say. "You pass."

Gym Fiction

2010-11-19T19:31:00.000-08:00

At present I'm Googling for gymnastics books, the fictional kind that I gobbled up as a pre-teen in the sport. The series all had a knack for referencing weird, obscure skills that nobody would compete, gym inaccuracies, and high drama. Think "Make It Or Break It" without the sexual tension. They often cropped up around an Olympic year.

I remember this series, "The Gymnasts," at my local library. It culminated in one of the athletes winning the 1992 Olympics (sorry for the spoiler), and I recall that the girls spent more time making snarky comments to their coach than actually practicing. Which, to be honest, reminds me of my girls sometimes. The author also had an obsession with Pearl Jam's "Jeremy," as every gymnast competed a floor routine to a piano rendition of this song.

In the post-1996 world, Kerri Strug's ankle still healing, I read this four-book series, "American Gold Gymnasts." I must say that while the gymnastics bits lacked in accuracy, there was some genuinely good material about the token Russian girl adjusting to American life, and some funny moments when an evil new coach comes to town.

Then my girls the Sweet Valley High Twins turned to gymnastics, or at least Jessica did. Funny, she was suddenly doing giants to a double back when we never saw her step foot in the gym in previous books.

Also, as a huge Boxcar Children fan in my pre-gymnastics days, I somehow missed this gem. Russian gymnast with a secret? What's not to love?

Face plants, or rather, Facebook

2010-11-18T19:56:00.000-08:00

The text from John: "Sooo Jamie just messaged me on Facebook. Awkward? And no, I'm not friends with 11-year-old girls."

In late September, a debate on whether or not to friend one's athletes cropped up on Gymnastics Coaching. Originally, my stance was NO WAY.

But to my surprise, about half of the commenters wrote detailed justifications for friending the gymnasts, most mentioning how privacy settings can be adjusted so that the gymnast sees little to nothing of the coach's profile.

I still maintain a laissez-faire approach -- that is, hands off my profile, and my hands off yours.

And John decided it was best not to message Jamie back, nor friend her. He's an upstanding citizen, and he'd prefer not to end up in jail.

An acceptable midway? A communal fan page or group, where everyone can interact with the awareness that they're monitored. We have such a page for the gym and the girls post on occasion. I'm all for team pride -- and privacy outside of the gym.

We're in a Zen State of Mind

2010-11-17T22:48:00.000-08:00

Back in action after a mini hiatus. Let's doooo this.

"It's always a good practice when my blood pressure doesn't rise," I say to Greg. He laughs but he knows it's true.

Some practices, like tonight, are marvelous: a slew of kids achieve new skills (we had six tonight -- definitely a record), and on the whole, everyone's plugging away at their routines, paying attention, invested in the moment.

Other nights, I want to yell at everyone, get my car, and drive into the night.

Sometimes the girls are 'tudey. Or they're all "injured" (i.e. icing themselves for approximately ten minutes, then returning to full mobility) and one poor soul is left tumbling by herself. Not so motivating.

Other times it has nothing to do with the girls but everything with the surrounding environment: lots and lots of class kids, lots and lots of Parkour boys climbing and flipping anywhere. The radio playing. Small children who don't pay attention and run across the beam mats as a girl prepares to dismount. I raise my voice so the girls can hear me. They're not the loud ones. It's all the background noise that rises to a clamor.

But some nights, I pause before I snap. I tell myself to keep calm. Stay cool, let this battle pass. Let it all roll off.

Gymnastics in Namibia

2010-11-09T12:13:00.000-08:00

Random, but happened upon this article. Not many details and the gymnasts in that photo look pretty unhappy despite their trophies--you can imagine their parents with cameras saying, "Just one more! Wait, another one!" But it's cool to see gymnastics afoot in unexpected places.

A Case of the Mondays

2010-11-08T22:33:00.000-08:00

Today's the kind of day when I leave the gym feeling frustrated. Not enough accomplished at practice. Not much will and motivation coming from the girls. Persuading them to try new skills could be compared to pulling teeth, except in that situation, the patient can't talk. That would make my work easier.

Here's to a better rest of the week!

Take a bow

2010-11-07T21:15:00.000-08:00

Two of the girls have moved on.

Jamie fizzled over the summer. Her mom said it had to do with all her injuries, but I think it had more to do with Coach P. Jamie liked him. But I don't think her mom did.

For a while I was sure she'd come back. I still hope she does. But it's November and there's been no peep. Possibly she's at another gym. She should be doing gymnastics, even if it's not with us. She's too talented not to.

Maya went AWOL after May. She went off to camp, then was occupied with her 8687686 extracurricular activities. And now she's switched gyms. I have to confess: I'm not sure that I'm sorry to see her go. She has talent. But her attitude exceeds her talent, and it's exhausting to wrestle with.

Besides these two, our gym maintains a stable retention rate. The team's a touch smaller now. But we regroup. We go on.

Compulsories and Me

2010-11-06T21:13:00.000-07:00

Dear USAG,

Shall I compare thee to the previous cycle? It may happen. A little bit. But you'll handle it.

In non-iambic pentameter, I bear unto you my grievances with Level 4 and Level 5. (Level 6, I'm pretty okay with. I support the motion to exchange the aerial for the front tuck on floor. We see eye-to-eye on that.)

Vault:

Grievance: Level 4 - handstand to flat back position on the mats

I am not convinced that a solid Level 4 vault means success in training a front handspring over the table. They are two different animals.

Proposal: Push the mat behind the table. Drop the table to its lowest setting. Perform handstand to flat back in this manner -- handstand on the table, pop to flat back on mat.

Achieving a handstand on the mats and doing the same on the table are visually, physically, and mentally different experiences. Expose the athletes to the feeling of blocking off the table, as well as overcoming anxiety about reaching out.

Uneven Bars:

Grievance: the front hip circle and the mill circle

I'm still new-ish to this game. Maybe there is inherent value in the front hip circle.

But the mill circle? Teaching undergrip when an athlete might return to it at Level 7 at the earliest, if at all? So many hours of my life spent teaching that skill only for it to vanish as soon as Level 5 arrives.

Just make it go away.

Proposal: An isolated, large cast.

I'm not opposed to the shoot-through. It's a good lead-in to the squat-on. It also helps the athlete learn how to lean their shoulders over the bar to counterbalance their body weight as they cast.

More casts early on!

Second proposal: Replace underswing dismount with a squat-on, jump down to the floor and stick.

I know. I know. The underswing plays a role in Level 5 and 6. It's just a modest proposal.

Balance Beam:

Grievance: the fish pose, and similar choreography

Okay, the fish pose is simple for Level 4. But by Level 5, I think we're ready to step up our game. We bemoan the lack of artistry in elite gymnastics these days, but look at what's mass produced at the lower levels.

Proposal: Bring back the kick turn of the old Level 5 routine (and the two split jumps in Level 6)

Sure, the kick turn wasn't essential. But it was pretty, and dance-like, and required control and flexibility while turning on the non-dominant foot.

I'm okay with the squat-turn's elimination, however. Some things don't wear well.

Floor Exercise:

Alas, we arrive at the biggest grievance of all:

GOD-AWFUL MUSIC.

Even for the most hardcore of us, compulsory gymnastics meets wear on the soul. They are repetitive. They are not exactly inspiring.

And music like this (the random rattlesnake noise is the highlight) and this don't help. At all.

Proposal: Around the world for centuries, and probably going back to when the cavemen drummed on their rocks, musical prodigies have composed lyrical, stunning pieces. Bach's not around to demand that we pay him royalties.

Let's tap in. Let's--dare I say it--teach the lowest levels to tell a story through a routine.

Sincerely,

La Em

This one's for the boys

2010-11-04T11:11:00.000-07:00

Here's a video I took of Steve Legendre during the men's team final. Not a great day for Team USA, but this routine was certainly a highlight.

Although I follow women's gymnastics more closely, I'm decently well-versed on the men's side. If it's on TV, I will watch. I know the major players and can identify some skills without the help of the commentators.

The latter stems from a well-worn tape of the 1997 World Championships, specifically the event finals. Sandwiched between the women's events were the men, and I didn't discriminate; I watched Jury Chechi rock rings countless times. Jesus Carballo and Jani Tanskanen swung high bar over and over again.

Then there was Ivan Ivankov's disaster. Ivankov was my favorite. Mild-mannered and awesome. His piked Kovacs too close to the bar, he clipped his chin on the bar -- ouch! But he remounted and finished. It only solidified my admiration.

Resurgence

2010-11-03T23:12:00.000-07:00

There's good news in these parts. As the season approaches, our little Level 4's are looking good. Really good. They're sanctioned, and have all their skills, and the tears have subsided. For now.

But the polish is lacking. I have them practice the arm positions of their floor routine in front of the mirror. "Look at your arms. Look at your hands. Where's your neck?" I say dozens of times, the latter in reference to the popular habit of dropping one's chin. Nobody seems to have caught on to the fact that if they're looking in the mirror, they can watch what their body parts are doing and notice the things I'm repeating.

"You need to express yourselves," Coach P. says, but at ages six through eight, those words mean nothing to the girls (nor does the Madonna reference).

I'm thinking the next step may be good old-fashioned new media. Show them solid, high-scoring routines from the Internet. Film their routines so they can get a sense of what they look like. And push for that epiphany.

Fear factor

2010-11-01T21:24:00.000-07:00

I knew this would happen.

Natalie's worked back handsprings on beam since the summer. Her attempts have been successful. Until today, when her hands scatter in all directions, her arms buckle, and she falls on her face. She's on the low beam and therefore doesn't suffer the extra blow of straddling the beam. But she does manage to fall in the exact same way on the next attempt, which is kind of impressive. Lightning striking twice and all that.

There's a rise of "Ooh's" and Natalie already has the "Oh em gee I'm never doing that again" eyes. "Can I--?" she begins.

My hand on her back. "I'm spotting you. Go."

I was an expert at avoiding skills that frightened me. Because I worked hard and never annoyed my coaches, I could enjoy a certain leniency if I needed it. They'd roll their eyes when my teammates complained of soreness or pain. But if I asked to ice a body part, I could. No questions to test the validity of my pain.

I could also use "I'd really like to work on my routines for States" as an excuse to not practice new skills. And it worked. Every time. Which is strange because I can see through my girls every time they try a similar excuse, the way that I can see Natalie's working up a way to get out of back handsprings forever. It will be a battle, I already know. She'll make scared faces and complain and constantly offer to work on other skills. "You can practice those," I'll say, "but you also need to do back handsprings."

Maybe I needed more of that as an athlete.

I spot her now. She lives. She's still scared. But if I can find a way to help her push through, I will.

Of candy corn and jack o'lanterns

2010-10-31T18:59:00.000-07:00

are my socks made. "BOO!" circles the socks in two sections.

Basically they're one of the best finds of the Target $1 section. They complement the uber orange volunteer pants from Worlds, as well as the white polo with "World Championships" in orange letters. Of course. Go, Netherlands!

"I have a question," says Alejandra, as she always prefaces her questions.

"Sure," I say.

"If that was your uniform, were the socks part of it, too?"

To the salt mines

2010-10-27T19:48:00.000-07:00

Back at the gym, I field the expected "Did you compete at Worlds?" (Alejandra used to ask every few months, "Did you go to the Olympics?") and the girls are happy to see me. I'm glad to see them.

Quote of the night:
Greg chides one of the girls after she does a terrible back tuck and concludes with, "You need to focus on what you're doing, not on who has a wedgie."

And for your viewing pleasure, a video I took of Raluca Haidu (a.k.a. Pitic) during the all-around final. Not her finest performance. But she's so darn cute.

E to the Epke

2010-10-26T09:52:00.000-07:00

The Dutch love him. Even if you know nothing about men's gymnastics, he's spectacular to watch. And the crowd's reaction!

High bar showdown

A little more Worlds

2010-10-25T09:07:00.000-07:00

Back home!

Odds and ends:

SHOCKED when He Kexin missed her release on bars. Who wasn't? I saw her after the awards ceremony and the interviews, and she was still in tears.
Of course, after two falls from China's, it was Beth Tweddle's world title to lose. Besides a step on the dismount, she was great. No one else could touch her.
Bridget Sloan's bars have a nice, relaxed feeling to them. Smooth and easy. She shouldn't have any problem upping her difficulty.
Very happy for Lauren Mitchell winning floor!! She has so much talent and brings nontraditional skills to the table.
Also good to see Romania cracking the medals (gold for Ana Porgras on beam, bronze for Diana Chelaru on floor -- doesn't she look a bit like Andreea Raducan?).
Maybe after silver on beam and bronze on bars, Rebecca Bross will smile for real.
Seriously, what's with the guys being ecstatic when they win a medal (re: team Germany for the bronze), but the women continuing the stoicism? It's okay to be happy, ladies!

I'm ready for Berlin Europeans!

Alicia Sacramone gets her gold

2010-10-23T05:38:00.000-07:00

with two huge, well-executed vaults.

The next best in terms of execution was Brazil's Jade Barbosa, who placed third (and looked rather distressed about it). Mustafina, the silver medalist, was sloppy, especially in her second vault - was it intended to be laid out or tucked? It was both. Nabieva seemed to have a breakdown after her vaults. She too was sloppy.

The cameras held on Ariella Kaeslin, who was visibily nervous. She kept third place until Barbosa, the last competitor, bumped her out. It must also be noted that Kaeslin has beautiful hair.

Cool to see a Korean gymnast in the finals: Jo Hyunjoo, who looked super excited to be there.

Men's pommel horse right now, which also doesn't set my soul on fire. Uneven bars soon! He Kexin, Beth Tweddle, Rebecca Bross -- it should be exciting.

The women's all-around final

2010-10-22T13:55:00.000-07:00

is another excuse for a bullet list!

Rebecca Bross made one hell of an attempt to stay on beam after her Arabian went awry. I can already see the media (re: NBC) creating a Vanessa Atler-like "she chokes under pressure" campaign. At the same time, any time she does not win a competition lessens the "Carly-Nastia-Rebecca" triage. If that's possible. Which it probably isn't.
Was it just me, or did China's Huang Qiushuang do a combination, miss an element, and redo the combination? Which should be a deduction, but she pulled out a 15.2?
Speaking of scores, everyone besides the judges can see that the Russians are overscored on their Amanars. Bross's vault and bar scores seemed a touch low. She had a mighty aggressive bar routine.
Crowd pleasers: plenty of fans dressed in orange to cheer on their countrywoman, Celine Van Gerner. The crowd went almost silent during her beam routine and applauded wildly for everything she did. She performed a very nice floor routine and several fans jumped to their feet, holding orange banners. Ariella Kaeslin inspired ringing cowbells and flags from the Swiss contingent. A small but loyal group cheered for Poland's Marta Phian-Kulesza, who went so far as to wear green glitter streaks in her hair. Now that's pride.

The men's all-around final

2010-10-22T13:41:00.000-07:00

can be summed up like so:

I leave to eat dinner, the Americans are bombing out. I return, Jonathan Horton's lining up for the medal ceremony to receive his bronze medal. How about that for not giving up?

When in Rotterdam...

2010-10-22T09:00:00.000-07:00

An update on the Dutch life!

The 2010 Gymnastics World Championships are well under way, and I'm presently watching the men's all-around. I must say that I'm not wildly invested, but it is delightful to watch Kochei tear it up. I'm pretty excited to see Rebecca Bross and Aliya Mustofina duke it out tonight.

Internet access hath been spotty, but I have it now!

Generalities, et. al. (a.k.a. an excuse to make a bulleted list):

AWESOME view of the women's team final from the press stand. The beam was directly in front and I had the pleasure of watching Alicia Sacramone make a beast save on her front pike.
The Italian girls all did unique, beautiful beam mounts.
He Kexin's bar routine is breathtaking in real life.
I was also able to watch the Romanian, Australian, Chinese, Russian, and USA girls train. Very cool to be "behind the scenes." The Chinese girls warm up similarly to how my girls do, minus the part where my girls do oversplits on a two-foot tall mat.
The crowd at the men's team final wasn't huge, but it was mighty: Chinese chants and flags rose up, to be countered by German flags. The crowd loves Fabian Hambuechen and Kochei Uchimura. Who doesn't?
Used my Spanish! It is mighty rusty!
I've learned a few Dutch words, notably the numbers one through ten and "thank you." Consider me fluent.
I'm finding it difficult to not speak in a fake Dutch accent.
If you visit the Rotterdam Burger King, look for the pet mouse that inhabits the kitchen. Mmm. Sanitation.

In descending order

2010-10-13T22:41:00.001-07:00

So close to Rotterdam!!!

Mind games redux

2010-10-12T21:19:00.000-07:00

With such a history, how then do I prepare my girls to face competition?

So far my methods are traditional: Have them perform routines one-by-one in front of the team. I try to mix it up a little by bringing over another group to watch, or another coach, or the secretary. A new pair of eyes to throw them off a bit. And I don't need to worry about simulating a noisy meet environment, since the girls who watch are never silent.

Somedays I propose a deal with everyone's favorite conditional construct: if you hit this routine, then (some reward, like working on new skills or getting a drink first or what-have-you). I make it clear: Like a meet, this is your one chance.

I have to say that my girls range between decent to very, very solid in competition on beam. Some are nervous but they fight. Others fight past the nerves and move confidently.

It blew my mind a little when the commentators at USA Nationals talked about Mackenzie Caquatto's struggles on beam, how she needed to "survive" the routine. (Of course, that easily could have been commentator dramatics.) You don't expect that out of an elite gymnast at a national competition. You expect that she can handle it. But maybe she reminds us: the beam is only so wide and no matter how good you are, nothing is a given.

Mind games

2010-10-11T21:08:00.000-07:00

In the early years my mind was a wreck in competition. Thinking crazy thoughts during a beam routine. Working to rattle me as I tumbled.

At the end of the day I always competed just fine. Occasional meltdowns but we've all been there. I moved calmly and you would never guess the mental chaos.

I read a book about gymnastics psychology. All the gymnast biographies I could get my hands on. They all praised positive thinking and visualization. I visualized but found that my viewpoint kept shifting, like a filmmaker: first this angle, then this. I tried to "think positively," to "stay in the moment," but I was just too damn anxious. It was like my mind was saying, "Not only do you have to stay on a four-inch beam, but you have to defeat me, too."

I developed an excellent relationship with higher powers. As phrased wonderfully by a college teammate: "I talk to God every time I do a flight series." And so I did before every meet, during every meet. I had various requests ranging from "Don't let me die" and "Don't let my coach yell at me" (equally grave) to "Please let me qualify for [insert competition]." I must say the higher powers did an excellent job of upholding their end of the bargain (though I really brought nothing in return). But I remained tense, nervous.

What changed?

The battle never ended but it quieted as I got older, started realizing that competitions could be enjoyable instead of life-or-death. That I could be happy in the instants I wanted to rush through. That these times were finite.

Is it just fantasy?

2010-10-10T19:24:00.000-07:00

I've heard of this previously, but I've received more than one e-mail about it: the Fantasy Gymnastics League. Is this legit? Is it a worthwhile use of time? Can Em and I combine our forces to coach the most awesome fantasy team ever?

Victorious (to the tune of "Notorious")

2010-10-09T10:37:00.001-07:00

DONE with the first round of floor routines.
They're looking pretty sweet!
I beat Coach P. at a front tuck stick contest. Life is good.

Aplauso, aplauso

2010-10-07T23:04:00.000-07:00

"Who goes first?" they ask on floor.

"Figure that out amongst yourselves," I say.

Insert melee. "I'm going first! Fine, then I go second! No, I already called second!" They run to the CD case for their music. "I go after her!" someone calls.

"I think they come to practice just to do their floor routines," Coach P. says.

It's quite possible. I haven't seen this much sustained excitement in awhile, at least not for an activity that's strictly gymnastics-related (running outside or frolicking in the pit--those, of course, are always winners).

Dare we call this motivation? Will it last? I don't know, but I hope to perpetuate it as long as possible.