Winning Balance

by Nancy French

  Chapter 17

  More Than I’d Bargained For

  All journeys have secret destinations of which the traveler is unaware.

  —Martin Buber

  AFTER OUR COMPETITIONS were over, I felt as if the lid had been lifted from the pressure cooker I’d been living in. The built-up stress from years of work poured into the ultimate competition had finally dissipated. Now I was free to enjoy the rest of the Games and our host country of China. I even got to enjoy it a bit more than the other gymnasts because of Chow—or Qiao Liang as he was still known in Beijing.

  “You’re not going to believe this,” Sheryl told me. “You’ve been invited to be a guest on China Central Television.” As the major state TV broadcaster in mainland China, China Central Television includes a network of nineteen channels broadcasting to over one billion viewers.

  “You want to do it?” she asked.

  “Definitely!” I said, without hesitation.

  The interview was one of the most memorable experiences of my life. The Chinese women’s gymnastics team was seated right in the front of the audience, and they clapped enthusiastically when I came out.

  A lot of that connection was due to Chow. Just by honoring me with the special Chinese name “Golden Flower,” he had helped endear me to the country. It was so gratifying to see Chow return to Beijing as the head coach of an Olympic team. Even better, he came back as the coach of an Olympic champion. Appearing on China Central Television seemed like the perfect way to celebrate our success!

  The producers played scenes from the Olympic Games on a giant movie screen while the host asked me about my life back home in Iowa, showed the viewers some drawings I had done, and even translated some of my poetry into Chinese. Chow graciously translated all of my responses, which was a lot of fun for me. As you can imagine, I didn’t get to hear him speak Chinese too often when we were in Iowa. I also made a point to say that I believed the Chinese team deserved to win their gold medals. The crowd applauded when they heard that, of course.

  The show’s host presented me with some rather extravagant gifts—a jade pendant, a crystal plaque, and an enormous framed photograph of me from the Beijing Games. It was so gigantic that my mom discovered it would cost $700 to ship it to America. Fortunately, we realized that one of my sponsors could slip it into one of their bags and take it all the way to Des Moines for us.

  At the end of the segment, I was asked to imprint my hand into a golden star, which was added to a wall of fame on the set. This is a privilege normally reserved for the most famous stars in China, so I was humbled and honored by this request. At the same time, appearing on that show was somewhat strange, since I didn’t understand a word my hosts said. I felt much more comfortable when I was finally back at the Village relaxing with some of my new friends.

  “No more balcony-to-balcony chats,” I texted Taylor. Now that the gymnastics competitions were over, the coaches didn’t care how many Snickers bars we ate or how late we stayed up.

  Taylor invited me to hang out with him and his roommates soon after. Visiting in person was a lot more fun . . . and a lot more painful! “Catch!” Taylor said, whipping a gummy bear at me. It pelted me in the stomach and fell to the ground.

  “Thanks a lot,” I said, picking it up and hurling it toward his head.

  He smiled as he swiped more candies out of the jar, like a bear getting honey. The other cyclists got in on the action too, and suddenly gummy bears were flying through the air like bullets in a war zone.

  “Watch out!” I yelled at the guys as my legs got nailed with the candy. Never get into a gummy bear fight with Olympic athletes, I thought as I ducked behind a couch pillow.

  When it was all said and done, I actually had a few bruises on my legs and a stomach full of gummy bears. I also had to admit to myself that I had feelings for Taylor.

  Looking back, I understand why that was. It’s hard to overstate the intensity of the Olympic Games. Taylor and I had gone through that experience together, and I’ll always be thankful that I have a friend who understands what it was like. I sometimes wondered if anyone else could really “get” what we went through during those days in the beautiful Olympic Village. Since Taylor had a girlfriend back home, though, I had to be content with the fact that we were just friends.

  On our last night there, Taylor came over and we talked for what seemed like forever. The next day I’d transfer to a hotel with my family since everyone else on my team was going home. No one was staying for the duration of the Games, either because of the expense or due to scheduling issues. However, my parents had decided that we would stay until after the closing ceremonies. After all, I’d missed the opening ceremonies, and how many opportunities do people get to be part of such a momentous event?

  Before I headed out, Taylor picked me up in a long embrace, and my heart was heavy with the knowledge that there would be no more late-night chats with him and his buddies.

  Booking a hotel room in Beijing during the Olympics was nearly impossible, but my sponsor Coca-Cola knew of my desire to stay for the closing ceremonies and provided accommodations for me, my parents, and Sheryl during the final days of the Games. St. Regis, our hotel, was in a prime location near Beijing’s historical district, so we were able to visit many of the city’s most famous sites.

  “Check this out,” my mom said as we put our luggage into the new hotel room. It was wonderful to see my parents so much and finally be able to just enjoy the country. “What a great room!”

  It was pretty sweet. Since Chinese hotel rooms have either two twin beds or one full-size bed, Sheryl and I were sharing a room with two twin-size beds, and Mom and Dad were sharing another room with a full bed. Our room was beautiful, with an elegant marble bathroom. Plus, the hotel had a great international buffet with a large assortment of food. It was a big change from the Olympic Village. I plopped down on the sofa and turned on the TV to see if we could catch some of the other competitions.

  “Oh, look,” I said, pointing to the screen. “Martha’s being interviewed.”

  My mom and dad settled into the couch next to me, and we listened as the interviewer asked her how she had met me. We were intrigued—we’d never heard this story from her perspective. We only knew that Chow had sent the videos he’d recorded in his gym to Martha with a note suggesting that she take a look at me. But Martha described opening the envelope from Chow postmarked West Des Moines, Iowa. She explained that he’d sent the video and attached a note that read something like, “Martha, you’d be stupid not to take this talented girl.”

  We laughed. Chow must have really believed in me. I mean, she’s Martha Karolyi. People don’t speak to her like that.

  She laughed as she recalled thinking this coach must have guts of steel to approach her that way. Then when I came to their camp, she said I acted like I belonged there. “I thought, Well, the man is right. She’s got it,” Martha said.

  I thought about how far I’d come since the day Chow had sent her that secret video. It reminded me that I never could have made this journey without Chow, and I was so thankful once again that he’d opened his gym in my little town.

  “All right, guys,” Mom said, refusing to go down any more emotional roads. “We said we wanted to go shopping. Who’s ready?”

  The Silk Market, a large, four-story building filled with booths selling clothing, handbags, shoes, and other items, was about a fifteen-minute walk from the hotel.

  I grabbed my purse and headed out the door. I wanted nothing more than to go shopping so I could try out my bargaining skills. In Beijing, merchants expect you to haggle, which can be very hard for Americans to get used to. I’d been warned that the initial price offered by the seller—especially in these backstreet markets—is usually at least 40 percent over the generally acceptable price. Sometimes the price can be inflated by up to 500 percent.

  The shops were crowded, and the merchants’ idea of a dressing room was holding up a towel so you could try something on. Not my
idea of privacy, but after drug testing, I guess I had lost some of my inhibitions. When I tried on my jeans, a saleslady smacked me on my rear and said, “Look at that cute butt!”

  Very different from picking up jeans at the Gap.

  “How much?” I asked a merchant, holding up the four pairs of jeans I’d settled on.

  He held up a huge calculator and began tapping into the machine. “Four hundred each,” he responded.

  I smiled at him. “Really? No thanks.”

  As I was putting the jeans back on the table, he stopped me. “How much you pay?”

  Since there was a language barrier, I used the only word I thought he’d know.

  “Cheaper!” I said, smiling.

  “Three hundred,” he said.

  “Forty.”

  “Forty?” he said in mock exasperation. “No, no, no,” he said, holding up the jeans. “These are high quality. Not knockoffs.”

  “How much?” I smiled, realizing I had the “sweet, innocent little girl” look going for me. I fully intended to utilize that.

  “Two hundred,” he said.

  I laughed and replied, “Forty-five.”

  “Okay, okay,” he said, deleting the last number off of his calculator. “Last price: 160.”

  “Last price,” I said, “eighty.”

  “No, these are good pants,” he said. “These are one hundred or no profit.”

  “Okay.” I put them back on the table and began to walk away.

  “Wait,” he said. “Okay, you want?”

  I nodded, still smiling.

  “Eighty-five it is.”

  I was able to score four pairs of jeans for a lot less than what I’d pay in America on even one pair of this brand . . . pretty respectable for a beginner. I stuck my jeans into a bag and went to the next booth.

  Everything was going well until we tried to buy purses. I knew what I wanted but couldn’t find any in the shops. One salesperson eyed me.

  “You like?” a salesman asked.

  The purse I’d picked up looked cheap. “No,” I said, putting the purse down. I didn’t want to accidentally get into a negotiation. All of the back-and-forth was a little exhausting, and I only wanted to engage in it if I really wanted an item.

  “Follow me,” he said, motioning to my parents, Sheryl, and me.

  We all looked at each other and shrugged. Maybe this is how they do it, keeping the really good purses in the back for serious shoppers. We followed the salesman down a hallway into a separate room. It was actually a storage room with dead bolts on the door, probably to protect their stash.

  The tiny room was filled with purses. There were a few other merchants in the room, and we felt outnumbered.

  “You like?” one of the women asked.

  “No,” I said, smiling. I’d learned that smiling really helps when there’s a language barrier.

  “How much?” she asked.

  “No thanks,” Dad said, moving toward the door.

  Leaving without a purchase didn’t prove to be as easy as we’d expected. They started yelling at us in Chinese. Though I couldn’t understand them, I figured they were probably saying something about us wasting their time, or about how stupid Americans are. Either way, they were going to make this as difficult as possible.

  Mom’s face turned red, and I could tell she was getting upset. The small room suddenly began to feel even smaller.

  I shoved past the emotional saleslady, and everyone followed me out of the room and through the series of dead-bolted doors. I made it through one, but got stuck on the next.

  “Dad, it’s locked,” I said, trying to control the panic in my voice.

  The salespeople showed no signs of letting us out. By this time Mom was freaking out, Dad was yelling, and my agent was negotiating. I didn’t think we were going to get out of there with our lives. Finally we got through the locks and back into the open air. We had that shaky feeling that comes when you’ve just avoided a serious car accident.

  “Want to call it quits for today?” Dad asked. Too unsettled to continue shopping, we went back to our hotel with my jeans and our lives.

  That night I got a call from Taylor.

  “Would you like to go to an Oakley party with me?”

  Oakley was his corporate sponsor, and the evening sounded like a fun outing. My parents, though, were not convinced that I should be going out with a nineteen-year-old.

  “Come on, Dad,” I protested, after telling Taylor I’d have to call him back. “He’s dating someone else.”

  “Mom,” I turned my attention to her when it looked like Dad wasn’t budging. “How frequently are we in China with friends?” I emphasized the word friends, but she wasn’t buying it.

  My advantage that day was my agent, Sheryl. She also represented Taylor and knew he was a nice guy from a good family. Over the next hour, she showed off her negotiating skills, and my parents finally relented.

  “I can go!” I texted Taylor and began looking forward to the party. I was not disappointed. The Oakley execs were kind to me and really welcomed me into their little family. There was music and dancing, but mostly I enjoyed hanging out with Taylor again.

  “Hey, you want to dance?” a slightly drunk guy asked me, trying to pull me out onto the dance floor. I definitely had no desire to dance with him, but I loved seeing a flicker of anger cross Taylor’s face as the guy tried to flirt with me.

  “Leave her alone,” he said to the guy. “Go on.”

  We were out really late. As I walked into my hotel, my head swirling with all of the fun I’d had, I was surprised to see my mom asleep in the lobby. I almost hated to wake her up, but I thought it was so sweet that she’d tried to stay up to wait for me.

  The next morning, it was time for some good bonding time between Dad and me. I almost couldn’t remember the last time I’d been able to hang out with just him. We began with an honest-to-goodness breakfast. Now that my Olympic competitions were over, I wasn’t going to simply grab a banana. I ordered waffles and savored every syrupy bite, feeling like a kid again.

  “Are you ready to really see China?” Dad asked, after I’d scraped the last bit of waffle off my plate. We decided to go to the Great Wall of China, one of the Seven Wonders of the World. The wall snakes its way through the mountains of northern China and is the longest man-made structure ever built. In all, it covers more than five thousand miles—twice the distance between New York and Los Angeles.

  “Look, Dad!” I said as I did a handstand on the wall while onlookers took photos. People recognized me from the Olympics, and I felt almost giddy now that the pressure of the Games had been lifted. After posing for some photos, I put my “camouflage”—my hat and sunglasses—back on and walked with my dad. I was shocked at how my leg muscles were burning. You’d think an Olympic athlete would be able to handle walking on the Great Wall of China with no sweat, but that wall was steep!

  At one point we rode gondolas to a certain part of the Great Wall.

  When we decided to descend the wall, my dad brought up two options: “So, if we go right, we walk back down to the buses,” Dad explained. “If we go left, we can toboggan down.”

  Of course, we chose those toboggans! Sleds were placed in a winding metal track, which snaked all the way down. I was thankful to have this option, since my legs had begun to feel like noodles.

  “You first,” my dad said, motioning to the first toboggan that became available. I got into it, put on my seat belt, and headed off like a slow-motion roller coaster. Well, it started off slow, but then it got fast . . . possibly too fast! The operator kept yelling in Chinese to slow down, but I wasn’t really sure how.

  Oh well. It wasn’t the first time a Chinese man had yelled at me.

  Lesson I’ve Learned

  Seize the moment. You are presented with opportunities for a reason. Be sure to take and run with them.

  Chapter 18

  Last Night in Beijing

  Friends are angels who lift us up to our f
eet when our own wings have trouble remembering how to fly.

  —Unknown

  THE PHONE RANG in the hotel room Sheryl and I were sharing, and she groggily reached over to answer it.

  “Hello?” she asked, looking at the clock. Who was calling at three o’clock in the morning?

  “Sheryl,” my mom’s tired voice came through the phone. “This is Teri. Is Shawn in her bed?”

  Sheryl sat up and looked across our room at the twin bed that was supposed to be mine. The comforter hadn’t even been turned down.

  I’d gone out several hours earlier for one last evening with my friends. I couldn’t believe it, but we were flying home the next day. I’d anticipated the Olympics for so long. We’d trained for years, come to Beijing weeks before the Games began, and stayed throughout their duration. Yet, just like a dream, now that they were winding down, the Games seemed to have come and gone in no time. I was heartsick over leaving the Olympics and all my new friends—one friend in particular.

  “Shawn, want to get together with everyone tonight?” Taylor had asked me over the phone earlier that day. “It’ll be fun!”

  I didn’t even need my agent’s help this time. My parents thought Taylor was great, and they immediately gave their permission. After all, you’re only in China for the Olympics once, right? A group of us Olympic athletes went out together, laughed, had “flip contests,” and walked through the city to the Olympic Village.

  As I walked down the street, I felt so alive. I enjoyed being with people who totally understood what the past few weeks had been like. I figured it would be hard to describe to friends who hadn’t been here.

  We ate, reminisced, and said our good-byes at about one o’clock in the morning.

  “I’m going to miss you guys,” I said, giving the last friend a big hug, my e-mail address, and my phone number so we could stay in touch. Eventually, everyone went back to their rooms.