Ashley’s mother had called her school from Sioux Falls to inform them that Ashley needed a couple of days off to recuperate from the physical and emotional stress of the State Gymnastics Championships. She knew that Ashley had pushed herself for years to keep up with her school work by getting out her homework as soon as she returned from the gym, right at the time when most kids were sitting down in front of the television or pulling out games and toys. Missing two days of school wasn’t going to hurt Ashley’s education in the slightest, her mother decided.
When Ashley arrived at school on Wednesday of that week, little work got done in her classroom for the rest of the day. They were all aware of the title she had received, and it was immediately clear to the teacher that no one was going to concentrate on any school work until they had heard the entire story directly from Ashley, with every one of their questions answered. They especially loved to hear her tell and tell again about all the gifts and certificates she had received, the stores she had visited to use her certificates, and what she had bought in those stores.
When Ashley arrived at the Rapid City Ravens gym that afternoon, carrying her brand new gym bag and wearing new shoes and clothes, the coaches had the same problem. But since the lessons and gym time were being paid for by the parents, some of whom were always watching, a different solution was called for.
“It’s 3:30. Ashley, please warm-up the class.”
It was the first time he had asked one of the students to lead the warm-up.
It was also the first time he had had a State Champion in his gym. Ashley, grinning and a bit embarrassed, walked up to the front of the class of fourteen gymnasts, and had to stand there grinning for a moment before she could think of what to do first.
“Let me see... oh, yeah. Running in place.” The gymnasts spread out and began to follow her instructions. “Add left arm circles... add right arm circles...”
The warm-up continued, and Ashley eventually remembered all the things they were used to doing under the coach’s direction, although the other gymnasts let her know with giggles and rolled eyes when she did them in the wrong order. Both coaches worked with individual gymnasts at hard items like the splits. There was an unusual number of parents in the visitor’s gallery that day, and they seemed pleased that Ashley was being honored and able to contribute to the class in some way.
At the end of the warm-up, the coach stepped up beside Ashley. “Okay, we’re going to use no more than one minute each day to answer a question put to our State Champion.” Everyone clapped at his recognition of their champion. “And I want you, Ashley, to remember to let Sue or Gina answer questions whenever they can, since they were at the meet too. So, what is today’s question?”
About ten hands shot into the air. “Kathy,” the coach picked.
“What was the most important moment of the whole meet for you?”
“This may sound funny, but it was when I thought Cheryl Adams was winning for sure, and all of a sudden I just felt free, like a kid going out to play, because I didn’t have to worry about winning anymore. That was just before my beam routine when I got the ten...”
For the remainder of the week, the Rapid City Ravens settled into their new routine — Ashley leading the warm-up, and then taking a question. On Friday she got her first chance to pass the question to one of the other level seven gymnasts. Gina talked about how she was nervous at first, got her low floor exercise score, and then loosened up.
That weekend Ashley had plenty of time to look at her new gymnastics
books and videos. She knew that all the beginner through level seven compulsory skills she had mastered over the previous four years were a good start, but they wouldn’t be enough for the National Championships. She knew that above the compulsories, most of the moves were named after the first gymnast to perform them in competition. She knew many of the names already — the Tsukahara Vault, the Comaneci Dismount, the Zmeskal Somersault. She gazed at pictures of the great gymnasts who had come before her, and then turned her mind to which of those new skills she wanted to learn first.
By Monday at four o’clock, she had picked out two new skills to work on.
She warmed-up the class, tossed the day’s question to Sue, and looked at her books again to get clear in her mind what she was after. All that day and the next, she worked on the prerequisite skills that were needed for the new moves. They were similar enough to the regular level seven work that no one noticed she was doing anything different.
But on Wednesday, she was beginning to try a new dismount from the beam and a new release move on the bars. When everyone was going home at seven o’clock, she heard the coach call her name.
“Ashley, I need to talk to you for a moment.”
She sat down near him on the thick balance beam dismount mat. “Hi, coach!”
“Ashley, you know we don’t have an elite optionals program here.”
“Yeah, I know. That’s okay. I can teach myself, from books and videos and stuff.”
“Well, it’s not that simple. You see, whatever we do here, we have to have certification for, and we have to have insurance that covers it. The certification isn’t really a problem because it only effects what levels we use in team competition. But our insurance is specifically limited to beginner through level seven compulsory skills.”
Ashley looked at her coach a moment longer, then looked at the vaulting horse in the far corner as she began to feel the impact of what he was saying.
“But if it’s any consolation, I want you to know that Tina and I have decided you can use the gym for free from now on. As long as what you are doing is covered by our insurance, of course.”
Ashley felt her throat begin to close and her eyes begin to water. “You mean... you mean I can’t get ready for the Nationals... or anything else... here at the Rapid City Ravens?”
“Yeah, I’m afraid that’s right. Nothing that requires elite skills.”
Ashley looked at the exercise floor for a long moment. She knew it better than her own living room floor. She looked at the uneven parallel bars, and they were more familiar to her than any of the climbing trees in her yard. She looked at the balance beam. She was almost more comfortable on it than on a sidewalk. And she glanced at the vaulting horse. Her hands had touched its leather surface more often than the handle bars of her bicycle.
She couldn’t think of anything to say. And she didn’t have the courage to look at her coach again. She tossed her hair band into her gym bag, stood up, and walked out of the gym, not looking back or pausing for anything until she had walked the six blocks home, burst through the front door, and thrown herself onto her bed crying.