Natasha doesn’t even give me notes or corrections when we leave. “I’m so proud of you,” she says, tears in her eyes, as we walk back to the seating area. She pats me on the back and then I get hugs from the rest of the girls in my rotation and a few from other rotations who have meandered over.
Because I’m done, I can watch Emerson go up next and Ruby finish things off. They’ve both been brilliant today, fighting with every particle of their minds, bodies, and souls. I don’t think it’s as much about the national champion title as it is about proving to themselves that they’re the undisputed best.
For Emerson, it’s knowing she’s never lost a title and isn’t about to start now. Winning titles in 2014 and 2015 wasn’t easy, but the competition was definitely not as tough, so adding a third title when her rival is someone like Ruby would be a major win.
With Ruby, it’s the thrill of returning from a major injury, a subsequent depression, and a rough comeback a year earlier. It’s showing everyone – the press, the fans, her teammates, herself – that she didn’t peak four years ago, and it’s the realization that doing it all over again was worth it.
As Emerson waits to mount the beam, a woman screams, “that’s my baby girl!” from the crowd. I look up and see her mother, standing in the very front row of the section facing the beam, only about 20 feet from Emerson.
“Now’s the time, Emmy! This is it! Are you gonna be a winner or a loser? Are you gonna let the girl who didn’t even make worlds last year beat you today?”
Ruby, trying to focus on her own routine coming up, shakes her head and puts in her earbuds. Elsewhere in the arena, floor music is playing and people are cheering for other routines so the outburst is at least somewhat contained, though Emerson in her silent preparation can certainly hear every word. Tuning out an entire arena is easy; we get so used competing with background noise, we actually need it to compete the way some people need to fall asleep with fans on.
But when someone screams out like that, making noise above the din, it stands out like a screaming baby on a red-eye flight, jolting you from your zone back into the real world. Basically, there’s no way Emerson is tuning her mom out. I see pain in her eyes, her top teeth clamped down on her lower lip, her cheeks flushing slightly as she’s given the green light.
When she mounts, I can see her breathing deeply, trying to forget the obnoxious cheering behind her. And she’s mostly fine, but she’s definitely shaky. Not good. Usually on beam, if I feel shaky I tend to bobble on every skill, which not only racks up deductions, but the more you bobble, the bigger of a chance you’ll fall.
I hold my breath during her flight series, a tricky yet required combination of skills where we flip from one end of the beam to the next. Emerson’s is especially tough – a first back handspring, a second back handspring, and a layout with a full twist. That layout full is one of the most difficult beam skills, and she has to do it after an already shaky routine under crazy pressure.
The first two skills are easy, she stays in line, and she gets nice air going into the layout full, keeping her body straight in the air as she twists. I see it coming apart a bit at the end, though…she’s not twisting fast enough and has to really pull to get the last bit around, and by then, she’s not in a good landing position.
The crowd gasps as one foot touches the beam before the other. I see her leg wobble as her back foot comes into join the front, and she’s too far over to the side to grab on with her toes. She’s a fighter, though. She tries throwing her weight over the beam, tries locking her back foot in place, tries flailing her arms to hold her balance...the struggle is interminable, like I’m watching in slow motion, until she finally has to give in.
Emerson simply drops to the mat, landing on her feet, no big overdramatic collapse for her. She puts both hands on the beam, leans forward like she’s stretching her back, puts her head down, and breathes. Only the dismount is left after she re-mounts to supportive applause, and it’s perfect. The crowd goes wild at her triumphant comeback, but Emerson storms off of the apparatus and out the arena door.
When Ruby goes up, she knows the title is hers. There’s no way Emerson’s going to win this thing with a fall. The crowd also knows, and they give her a standing ovation before she even mounts. They love Emerson, love what she’s done in the sport over her career thus far, but Ruby came in as the underdog and crowds love underdogs. She’s who they’re pulling for.
Her whole routine is utter perfection, and before she even dismounts, the crowd is collectively on their feet once again. The cheers turn into an uproar when she sticks the full-in, and she responds the way any comeback queen would – a fist pump, a wave to the crowd, a leap from the podium into Natasha’s arms, and tears streaming down her face for all of it.
I’m sobbing, too. What Ruby has just done is almost impossible in our sport, returning from major injury at 19 to win a national title and what will likely be a spot on the U.S. Olympic team. I feel gutted for Emerson, who worked her ass off only for her mother to ruin her night in her final routine, but like, she’ll still probably go home with silver, so I feel justified in rooting for my best friend.
Ruby and Natasha run over to let me and Polina into the group hug.
“I actually frigging nailed everything,” she gasps between huge, choking sobs. “I’m back, bitches!”
We wait until her score flashes for her win to be confirmed, holding hands and nervously jumping up and down.
“15.4 for Ruby Spencer on balance beam,” the announcer says. “Ruby Spencer is the 2016 U.S. national champion with a total two-day score of 122.1.”
Again, the crowd erupts, we continue our screaming and crying, and though I’m still celebrating with my team, I let my eyes roam to the big screen with the top eight in the rankings to see my own fate.
Top 8 After 8 Rotations
1. Ruby Spencer, Malkina Gold Medal Academy, 122.100
2. Emerson Bedford, Vanyushkin Gymnastics, 121.200
3. Maddy Zhang, Texas Tornadoes, 119.300
4. Charlotte Kessler, Windy City Gymnastics Club, 119.200
5. Amalia Blanchard, Malkina Gold Medal Academy, 119.000
6. Zara Morgan, Reynolds Gymnastics and Cheer, 118.300
7. Olivia Nguyen, Windy City Gymnastics Club, 117.100
8. Amaya Logan, Waimea Sports Center, 115.100
Fifth overall. I gulp, blinking back tears. Talk about an emotional rollercoaster.
There are no single day scores listed from today, just the overall total, but knowing my day one score, I’m able to subtract and see that I got a 58.7 for my all-around performance tonight. It’s over a point less than Thursday’s score, and without the mistakes I probably would have broken 60 and won bronze. Damn.
Maddy ahead of me isn’t a surprise, and I don’t think I would have been as upset with her getting the bronze medal had I placed fourth. But Charlotte in fourth? That’s a blow.
I have no idea how she crept ahead of me. She was sixth on day one! She must have had an absolutely perfect day today, possibly her best ever.
“You okay?” Polina asks quietly. Natasha is now up on the beam podium celebrating with her superstar, Ruby Spencer, the 2016 U.S. national champion.
I wipe my eyes with the back of my hand and smile. “Yep. Totally fine. And happy. I did what I could. Other people just had a better meet.”
“You were great. Don’t even get it into your head that you weren’t.” She gives me a hug. “Now go congratulate everyone. You don’t want the press calling you a sore loser, even though I know you’re not.”
I take a moment to gather my things, putting everything neatly in my bag, and then I put on my warm-ups, which we’re required to wear for the medal ceremony. I push myself to think about the good in the situation. Like the national team. The top six all-arounders get automatic berths on the national team, meaning I’ve made it, no questions asked. I’ve also qualified to Olympic Trials. A year ago I didn’t even qualify to nationals, so both of the
se things are huge deals and I really am thrilled, even with the sting of fifth place.
When I feel a bit better, I run up to the beam podium. Emerson has also joined in, celebrating her silver though I know she feels the same biting agony that I’m feeling. Nah, hers is much worse. She fell on one of her best events, she didn’t defend her title, she ended her four-year winning streak, and there’s that whole “my mother is a raving lunatic bitch” thing. But she’s smiling, and if she can put on a happy face, so can I.
“Congrats, Ruby,” she says, reaching out for a handshake though Ruby quickly pulls her in for a hug. “Before you get too cocky, you should know that I would have won without the fall, so technically this is a draw.”
Ruby stares at her for a second with one eyebrow raised, and then breaks into spirited laughter, hugging Emerson tighter. “You’re so much fun to beat,” she yells over the crowd. “I can’t wait to battle to the death with you again in Atlanta.”
She turns to me and I open my arms wide for a hug. “I did it,” she whispers, tears poised in her eyes and ready to fall. “I’m the best in the country again.”
In that moment I forget about my own defeat. This is Ruby’s day and nothing else matters.
***
The award ceremony takes forever. The top eight on each event and in the all-around are called up to the floor podium where we hug everyone a thousand times, receive flowers and medals from important-looking people, and have our photo taken by what looks like every photographer who has ever lived.
Aside from my national team spot and Olympic Trials qualification, the best part of my day is finding out I’ve won beam. I’m shocked, but Natasha isn’t. “You have the highest start value by a mile,” she says. “What do you expect?! Mistakes barely matter for you.”
Winning the beam title is definitely an important achievement in terms of the Olympics, if only because now Vera knows for a fact that I’m the best on the event. It’ll be hard to justify leaving me at home, even if my floor is weak and my bars aren’t exactly cute.
After the final award is handed out, a voice over the loudspeaker tells everyone to stay put, as the national team and Olympic Trials qualifiers will be announced shortly.
Next to the floor podium are two large cardboard boxes. “Team USA tracksuits,” Ruby whispers. “They do the official national team photo with us wearing these while holding our plaques and wearing our medals.”
The girls who placed in the last all-around spots don’t bother waiting around, Leah included. They know there’s no hope, but a few in the middle of the pack stick around just in case. Vera hasn’t left her perch at the USGA table by the media seating, but she’s sent the athlete rep, a former gymnast who competed back in 2004, to read off the list of those of us who’ve made it.
“Spencer, Bedford, Zhang, Kessler, Blanchard, Morgan, Nguyen, Logan, Farrow, Kerr, Abrams, Turner, Borovskaya, Harper,” she reads off. “Grab a set of warm-ups, put them on, and line up to go back up on the podium.”
“Excuse me.” One of the Logan twins, Nalani, sidles up to the athlete rep, looking a bit pale. “You said Logan, but were there two Logans? Or just one.”
“Just one,” the rep says, a bit softly as if it’ll make it hurt less. “Amaya. Sorry.”
Nalani nods, and starts to sob. Awkward. Her sister, also crying, gives her a hug though you can tell she’s battling her emotions there, having placed eighth to make the team. Her sister, meanwhile, was borderline…the top 12 made the cutoff, and Nalani was 14th.
Top 12 all-arounders, that is, plus two more. Sophia Harper doesn’t compete all-around, just bars and beam. But she’s so good on both, she has a legit chance to make it as a specialist, so they couldn’t leave her off. The only other specialist, Kara Lennon, went to the Olympics in 2012 but her two events are vault and floor, which just happen to be the best events for pretty much everyone on this team rendering her pretty much useless, so she doesn’t make it.
Irina Borovskaya is the other one Vera names…she’s more of a surprise addition, but not really, I guess. She fell four times on bars today, earning a 9.1 on the event. A pretty far fall, considering she won the gold medal at worlds last year. Because of her bars score, she only placed 17th, so Vera must have included her knowing the low ranking was a fluke, especially considering she was in the top eight on day one.
With our brand-new red, white, and blue uniforms on, we line up and are announced one by one back up on the podium, the first seven standing and the second seven kneeling in front of them. This will be the team photo. I used to print out the team photos each year when a new national team was named. I don’t think I have to explain how surreal it feels to be in one.
“Ladies and gentlemen, the 2016-2017 U.S. women’s national team!” the announcer’s voice booms. “All members of the national team have been invited to attend the Olympic Trials in Atlanta at the end of this month.”
Those remaining in the crowd cheer one final time, and then begin to disperse. We take a few more group photos, and then we’re rushed off to interviews in the mixed zone once again.
“Congratulations, Amalia. You said before the meet you’d be happy with tenth. Do you think you’d still say that now that you’ve placed fifth?”
I know without looking that it’s Anna Young, my nemesis. But I’m on such a high from the events of the evening, I’m not fazed by her. “I’m thrilled,” I grin. “I achieved all of my goals this week. Top five, national team, Olympic Trials. Nothing could feel better.”
“Not even a medal around your neck?”
I hold up my beam gold as a response, smirk, and then turn to face someone else, effectively shutting down Ms. Bitch.
The rest of the questions are broad and easy…how does it feel to make the national team for the first time, what was the most memorable part of the meet, what are your goals for Olympic Trials, are you doing anything to celebrate? Some are repeated when people I haven’t yet spoken to wander over to me, but I answer everyone happily and without sass.
After ten minutes, the media coordinator cuts everyone off and lets us head back to the floor where we take selfies and gather up all of our things while a tech crew takes down the bars and beam to put up some of the men’s apparatuses for tomorrow.
The whole post-meet process is more exhausting than the meet itself, so I’m thrilled when we get the go-ahead to leave the arena. By now, pretty much everyone has cleared away from the main doors, so we’re free to escape without too much of a bombardment.
“Who wants froyo?” Sergei asks as we’re halfway back to the hotel.
“You’re serious?!” Ruby squeals. “We get to have a frozen treat that isn’t a popsicle or ice?”
“You earned it. All of you. Cups, though. No cones.”
“We didn’t earn the cones,” Emerson pouts. I think it’s fake, but you never know with her.
The delicious, creamy frozen yogurt is mind-blowingly good, and we scarf it down like we’re newly-released prisoners enjoying our first taste of freedom in 20 years. Heaven.
“Tomorrow we’ll meet for ten minutes before the team meeting,” Natasha decides. “I’ll go over performances and notes and future goals then. Enjoy tonight, but don’t stay up too late. Watch a movie or something and try to chill out. Remember, this wasn’t it. You still have trials. But we will have a celebratory dinner next weekend, because what you guys did was awesome.”
Ruby, Emerson, and I decide to hang out in our room for a bit before bed. We’re all exhausted but we’re also mentally jacked up from the whole experience and won’t be sleeping anytime soon. Our coaches head upstairs while we sign for a few people in the lobby, and then we finally reach the elevator, thrilled to finally change from leos into pajamas.
When the elevator door slides open on the sixth floor, there are a couple of people standing near our doors, including a guy. I assume it’s Sergei, checking to see if we made it back safely after facing the lobby mob, but when he turns toward us I stop dead.
Finding Our Balance Page 26