As for the individual finals, the USA women’s gymnastics team took home six more medals: Simone won gold for vault and floor, and bronze for beam; Maddy won silver for bars; Aly won silver for floor; and I won silver on beam. I’m thrilled to say I hit every skill in my routine. I felt especially great about how I came out from my punch front pike with my chest up high at the very beginning. I was in the zone during each of my leaps, and I felt the crowd with me. But it all went so quickly! Before I knew it, I was dismounting. All I’d had to do was land cleanly with a round-off double pike, and I did. I think that was one of the best routines I showed in Rio. I was happy I performed the way I had in practice—my mission was accomplished.
When I think back on the Olympics, there were only two times I was anxious for myself or for one of my teammates. In my beam routine, I always find the triple series (or what is called a flight series) a little nerve-racking. That’s when I have to perform three moves in a row backward: I do a back handspring, followed by a layout step-out, followed by another layout step-out. I had a good feeling before I was going to compete that I would hit it, but it’s something I’m always slightly worried about in the back of my mind. The other thing that had me holding my breath was Aly’s first tumble, because she does so much in that pass. I don’t think she’s ever worried about it, because in her head she’s doing everything she needs to do to execute it beautifully. But as you watch, there’s a lot going on, so you fear something might go wrong. She basically does a round-off, a backward one-and-a-half twist, and then she steps out of that to connect to another round-off, a back handspring, and then she does this spring called a double Arabian and basically goes up in the air to do a half turn and double front flip connected to a front layout, which is a front flip with a straight leg where her whole body is open. It’s incredible! It’s so insane. It wows me every single time. Once she gets past that, we know the rest of her routine is fine. And she ends up nailing it every single time.
All up, our team won nine medals, breaking the all-time record formerly shared by the 1984 and 2008 teams. It felt so good to be strong, to be able to come together, to do what we know how to do, and to get such great results from the effort. We were on top of the world—and very ready for a pizza party.
THE FINAL FIVE
CHAPTER 14
I’VE ALWAYS LOVED THE GYMNASTICS TRADITION of naming the Olympic team. If you look back, you’ll see that the moniker each team picked really fit their personality as a group.
In 1996, there were seven members on the team—Kerri Strug, Shannon Miller, Dominique Dawes, Dominique Moceanu, Amanda Borden, Jaycie Phelps, and Amy Chow—and they were all really magnificent. You know they came up with the name the Magnificent Seven because at the time they believed they would become the first US women’s gymnastics team to win gold in the team finals. The Olympics were in Atlanta, Georgia, that year, so it was even more magnificent to have accomplished it in their home country.
In 2012, before the team went to London, the media dubbed them the Fab Five because they were a very sassy, glamorous group. McKayla Maroney, Kyla Ross, and Jordyn Wieber were on the team, in addition to Gabby and Aly. But there was already a group of male college basketball players from the nineties known as the Fab Five, so when the girls got a chance to pick their own name, they chose the Fierce Five to show how determined they were to bring home the second team gold in history for the women’s gymnastics team. Of course, Gabby was particularly fierce, bringing home the gold in the all-around final. At the time, I watched those gymnasts and was so inspired by them! I thought the name suited them then and I still do.
When I think about our team name, I can’t imagine calling ourselves anything other than the Final Five. It fits us perfectly: it’s both dramatic and touching, reflecting not only the fact that we’re the last team of five members who will compete in the Olympics (in 2020 the team size will shrink to four members and possibly two specialists), but also our admiration for Marta Karolyi, who announced her retirement before we headed to Brazil. Each of our careers has been incredibly affected by Marta, and her legacy to the sport and to the world is huge. Over several decades she mentored and developed some of the most talented gymnasts and coaches that artistic gymnastics has ever known. Her formula—three routines on beam, one routine on floor, three routines on vault, and two routines on bars—is what we followed in every single workout, every single day, again and again and again. It never changed. That strategy created the consistency each one of us needed in order to succeed. She would tailor the workouts to our individual strengths and weaknesses, and that’s how she developed teammates who complemented each other. Her workouts were exhausting, we’d all tell you that. It was very hard to get a day off from her; you’d have to be sick or injured for that to happen. But we didn’t mind, because we always knew she wanted the best for us. She was very strict, but we respected her for it. And all that work showed in our skills. When we came up with our name, we just wanted to find a special way to say thank you.
Although we picked the name over group text right after the Olympic Trials, we tried to keep it a secret until just the right time. We were all texting back and forth that day, trying to think of something powerful, and if I remember correctly, it was Simone who came up with it. I can’t even recall the other suggestions, because we all knew that was the one as soon as we heard it. All throughout prelims and team finals, whenever we would huddle to show that we were a team and that we were there for each other, we’d put our hands together and shout, “Go USA!” But as soon as we knew we’d won the gold medal as a team, we changed things up in our next huddle and shouted, “We are the Final Five!” We waved to the crowd and then made our way over to the coaches and to Marta. We gave her hugs and asked, “Did you hear our team name?” She said, “No, what was it?” When we told her it was the Final Five, she put her hands to her face and we saw tears in her eyes. It was cute. Marta’s super tough and doesn’t show that kind of emotion, so it was especially heartwarming to know our choice moved her like that.
In the end, I think the name not only marks the transition from one era to the next, but it also reflects the team’s gratitude. We appreciate the opportunities we’ve been given—we all have different personalities, but that is one of the traits we share. And it has created this incredible sense that we’re a family, now and forever. These girls, whom I’ve gotten to know inside and out, mean the world to me.
Before the Olympics, I didn’t know Maddy well. She was always the shy one. We’d say “Hi, how are you?” whenever we saw each other, and maybe we’d share a laugh when something funny happened, but she was always quiet. We were both so focused on our workouts, too, that we didn’t spend a lot of time developing a friendship. But once we made the Olympic team and had more time together, we both had the same thought: Hey, she’s really cool. Suddenly, there was this spark of a friendship. Maybe we grew closer because we were together so much, but sometimes I think the Maddy I know now is not the Maddy she was when I first met her. She went from being kind of reserved to being a total jokester, and that playful quality draws me to her. Whenever we were in meetings or had to give an interview as a group, we’d all be a little nervous. It doesn’t matter how many times you do those kinds of things, you still get butterflies. And it was always Maddy who would say something funny or positive to break the tension. I never would have thought that about her a year ago, and I’m so happy we’ve gotten to know each other well and we’ve had amazing experiences together.
I love Aly, too. By now I think everyone knows we call her Grams, short for Grandma. It’s because the girl can never get enough sleep! Even after she wakes up, she’s ready for a nap. She will literally set her alarm to get up in the morning, go to breakfast, and then come back and say, “Okay, guys. Don’t bother me. I’m gonna go take a nap.” And it would only be eleven o’clock in the morning! I couldn’t believe it the first time it happened. We all looked at each other like, Are you serious? She also has the biggest
heart. She’s the perfect team captain because she is very motherly—her other nickname is Mama Aly for that reason. It’s not just because she’s the oldest, it’s because she cares about us and always wants to make sure we’re okay. Every so often she’d ask, “Did you eat well today?” Or if one of us was still sleeping when all the others were already up and getting ready, she’d come into our room and make sure we were awake. She’s also been known to tuck me into bed and kiss me good night. She’s so cute! I respect how hard she works, too. She has one of the best work ethics ever.
Although I thought Maddy was the shy one at first, it’s actually Gabby who’s kind of quiet. I know that’s surprising, but it’s true. Even so, she’s hilarious. Whenever we were in a situation where we couldn’t say what we were feeling, she would purposely look our way with a mischievous twinkle in her eye. It was as if she was telling us the funniest joke without even using words. For instance, if we found out that practice was starting earlier than usual or we had to stay late, she would flash us that look and we’d know she was thinking the same exact thing we were, only she would make us giggle instead of groan about it. It was like she could do stand-up comedy through telepathy. All five of us would practically fall down laughing, and no one else had a clue why. Aside from being so much fun, Gabby is also one of the nicest people I know. Whenever we were stressing out, she would jump in and give us a jolt of confidence, saying, “That’s all right, girls. You got it. You got it.” She always managed to help ease our anxiety.
Aly could probably testify best as to how well Simone and I get along. We were in the same room during the Olympics, and we were a ton of trouble. Once competition was done, Aly would have to bang on our door at night for us to keep quiet so she could sleep. But Simone and I would just keep giggling. We’d stay up till all hours, playing lots of music, jumping on the beds, dancing around, and ordering room service constantly. We’re so close and we think so much alike, sometimes I wonder if this is what being twins feels like. It was funny, because once during the Olympics there was a fire drill in the middle of the night and everyone was rushing to get out the door, but Simone and I had the same exact thought: Our medals! We’ve got to get our medals! We were running around in such a tizzy trying to collect them all. What I love most about Simone is that she doesn’t only make me laugh, she’s the one making everyone else laugh, too. You just have to hear her giggle and it makes you giggle. You don’t even have to know what the joke is, that’s how infectious her laugh is. Even if you’re having a rough day, she can absolutely turn it around. I feel like Simone and I just have this amazing chemistry. I don’t know if I’ve ever had that with any other friend. She totally cracks me up. Even as I’m writing this, I have a big grin on my face.
Seriously, though, I went into the Olympics with one sister and somehow I came home with four more. I will always feel a special bond with the Final Five. Always.
ON PARADE
CHAPTER 15
WHEN I CAME HOME FROM THE OLYMPICS, MY hometown of Old Bridge held a huge parade for me. I didn’t know what to expect, but I certainly didn’t think thousands of people would come out and cheer for me.
I was in this motorcade that wound through the streets and ended up at Lombardi Field on the grounds of Carl Sandburg Middle School. I sat on top of a black Mustang, and as I was waving and smiling, I was overwhelmed by the fact that all of this was for me. Even when I think about it now, I’m kind of speechless. So many little kids, so many teenagers, and so many adults poured out of their homes to say hello. Some of them ran up to the car and dropped off bouquets of flowers. It was so sweet! Then, at the school, there was this carnival with lots of food, games, and activities. All the school’s gymnasts were there. Some of the little girls from my gym came, too, and of course, Shannon, Paloma, and my good friend Emily Liszewski were there. My teammate Riley McCusker was also kind enough to drive down from Connecticut to celebrate with me. But it was the faces of all the people who I didn’t know, who were genuinely happy for me, that blew me away. I hope some of them were thinking, Someday, this could happen to me, too. It was just so crazy to see all the support and love that people had for the Olympics, for gymnastics, and for me. I had goose bumps the entire day. All the time I was involved in the sport up until that point, I had never realized how many people at home were watching me and rooting for my success. I was so focused on my training, to me it was just what I needed to do to succeed. But for so many people, it was much more than that.
Because Marcus and Jelysa had stayed home during the Olympics, in many ways, they had already experienced some of the local excitement and appreciation in the air. People had expressed their excitement for me when they saw my brother and sister at church or at the supermarket. But my siblings had actually decided to watch the events at home by themselves. I know that sounds strange, since everyone thinks it’s a great idea to have viewing parties. But they didn’t want people to see their emotional reactions, or their reactions if they disagreed with the judges. They know that I always respect the judges’ calls—after all, they’re doing their best in the moment, the same way all the gymnasts are doing their best in the moment—but it can still be hard if you see things differently than the judges do. A few friends had stopped by to see my siblings here and there during the Olympics, but they knew my brother and sister watched my competitions with a different kind of investment than anyone else. Jelysa and Marcus tend to hang on my every little move. They know my routines so well, they can see when I hit a skill and when I don’t. And even if I do hit it, they can see where I’ve executed something with more or less confidence or precision than usual. They’re not just looking at the overall outcome, they’re looking at each nanosecond. They clench each other’s hands, tear up at times, and then pump their fists in the air at other times.
On the night I won the silver medal, however, they did decide to watch from Joe’s restaurant, where ESPN was covering the event. And it ended up being one of the greatest nights of their lives, too. From what they told me, all of New Jersey’s heart was with me that evening. They had so much fun and felt so much pride, I’m not sure they’ll choose to be alone watching me compete ever again!
Although my grandmother couldn’t stay up late enough to watch the Olympics, Jelysa and Marcus showed her clips on their phones. I’m the baby of the family and I definitely held a special place in her heart, so she was very proud and amazed to see me do what I do. But the seriousness of my accomplishment didn’t really hit her until she saw it on Spanish TV!
In addition to this outpouring of love from my hometown and family, the media had great affection for me, too. They seemed to love my playfulness and confidence, and throughout the Olympics they called me “sassy” and “cheeky.” They also added a few new nicknames to the ones I already went by (my family sometimes calls me Monkey because of my love for swinging from the uneven bars, and from anything else I could practice on, as a little kid). Now the media was calling me the Human Emoji, and they even revived the nickname “Baby Shakira” that sports commentator Jessica O’Beirne had coined a few years earlier (because she thought I moved like the singer in my floor routines and because I share Shakira’s Latin heritage). I loved it! It made me so happy that people were acknowledging my bubbly personality as much as my skills, because at the core, that’s who I really am.
I’m also incredibly proud of my Puerto Rican heritage, but at first I wasn’t sure why everyone was talking about it. Then I realized that as I was growing up, there hadn’t been any Latina role models in gymnastics! I asked my parents if they could think of any, and we ended up researching some people together. There was a popular Mexican American gymnast in the 1970s named Tracee Talavera, but she didn’t get to compete in the Olympics because the year she was eligible was the same year the United States boycotted the games—the Olympics were being held in Moscow, and the United States was opposed to the Soviet Union’s invasion of Afghanistan, so our president decided our athletes wouldn’t go. I felt bad w
hen I heard about that: she’d had all this talent, and she never got the same chance I had. Imagine how many young Latinas she could have inspired! I was also aware of Annia Hatch, who’d won the World Championships for Cuba in 1996. But in our country and in our generation, there are only Kyla Ross and me. Kyla has a Puerto Rican grandparent, and I am fully Puerto Rican American. I read somewhere that less than 4 percent of girls participating in gymnastics in the United States are Hispanic. If you’re Latina and you’re out there reading this, and you have an interest in gymnastics or any other sport, and you want to go to the Olympics someday—I promise you, it’s possible! I am living proof of that. And by the way, the Final Five will be remembered for many things, but one of the greatest attributes is that we are an incredibly diverse team! I’m so glad to be a role model for young Latinas everywhere, especially now that I know there have been so few of us. I take being a role model very seriously, and when you participate in something as important and as global as the Olympics, you have to remember that you’re representing yourself, your family, your heritage, your community, and your country—and you have to act accordingly.
For me, the whole homecoming celebration, the stories about my family, friends, and neighbors watching together, and the realization that I could be inspiring future Latina gymnasts were all very humbling and gratifying. And in many ways, it was all very well timed, too, because it kept things real and in perspective as I headed out to take a victory lap around the country and to appear on some of my favorite shows.
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