Chapter 20 #2
I liked watching him coach my teammates on what they needed to do at the last minute.
I could hear it in his voice how much he believed in them, the way he bent at the hip and clapped his hands when a skill was executed perfectly, or when he made a fist and whispered joyous words to himself.
I got a thrill out of it because he got in the zone and his true passion and colors came to life.
This was his reason. His eyes lit up, and it in turn made me happy.
I watched closely and I listened to everything.
I’d followed his gaze and started noticing little things, things I may not have noticed before, and wondered if I made the same mistakes myself.
And not just the small wobbles either. The little jerks or bends in the knees of the perfect body line required in elite gymnastics.
The hips out, shoulders too low. I thought I executed it right, like I was sure they did.
Now I was curious if I looked like them.
Observing them made me more aware of myself .
I started paying attention to other gymnasts warming up and picked at their routines.
Every little thing mattered. Something as stupid as an undergarment showing could cause a slight deduction.
I saw split leaps not reaching exactly one hundred and eighty degrees.
Legs separating when transitioning to the high bar.
Knees separating in a double back tuck. And sometimes there were deductions for the legs not parted enough.
Missed connections on the beam where the gymnast is required to complete a series of skills without breaking between them, no step or stopping or balance check.
And another mistake I noticed was taking a long pause before attempting another skill.
An over-the-top, angry voice jolted me from my observation.
I leaned over and glanced down the runway, spotting a coach bent over with his hands on his knees as he yelled at a gymnast just inches from her face.
Spit flew from his mouth when he spoke and she flinched.
Her eyes dropped to the floor, color filled her pasty white cheeks.
I was embarrassed for her. I'd been yelled at in the gym countless times, but never at a meet.
She nodded her head and walked past the coach.
The young girl, who looked no more than twelve at most, mounted the low bar.
I scrutinized her routine while her coach shouted from the side of the bars.
Her shoulders were closed when they should have been opened, her posture was horrible, and she struggled to extend her handstands.
Her amplitude was low, easily a deduction, and it made my stomach drop because I freaked she was going to hit the bar on her way down.
This was not the kind of emotion one looked for while watching gymnastics.
This terrified me. She cast to a handstand and completed two giants before tapping so hard on the second swing that she used her hips to gain power for the dismount.
It's not something easy to spot by the untrained eye, but it was obvious to me when she dragged her toes coming down and whipped her hips hard.
The bar ricocheted as she released, echoing throughout the gym.
She completed her dismount but took a huge step, her knees dropped to the floor.
I sucked in a breath at how awful her landing was and the fact that her coach was no doubt about to lay into her.
But those knees hitting the mat was a massive deduction, and all because she didn’t get enough power and height when she released the bar.
That was her coach’s fault. The way he berated her struck so much fear in her she couldn't concentrate enough to focus on the task at hand.
A little fear was good, but she wasn't calm and collected as she performed.
She was frightened and unsure of herself.
The kind of mentality not meant for gymnastics.
His coaching skills sucked. He started once more.
Her chin trembled, and my heart ached for her and the tears she fought to hold in.
I sensed a pair of eyes on me. Kova stood off to the side observing me with his hands propped on his hips.
He tilted his head and waited. His gaze bore into mine.
I knew what he was expecting, but it wasn't as easy as I thought it would be.
I felt bad for the girl. He wanted my criticism, to take out the emotion so I could learn to recognize flaws without an ounce of compassion, something he would no doubt do.
But the way the girl's shoulders hunched over…
it was a sucker punch to the gut. Kova may work us to the bone, but he'd never humiliate us in public.
Kova walked toward me and followed my gaze. He did a double take, almost stumbling over his feet. He sneered and mumbled something under his breath.
"Her routine was atrocious. She did not do well under pressure. Then again, that coach is a piece of shit, so I cannot blame her."
I shook my head in sympathy. I had this overwhelming urge to go to her and give her some positive reinforcement.
"I kind of want to talk to her."
His head snapped down, and his eyes glared so bright I winced.
"Adrianna, you better not go to her. Do you understand me?
" Kova said through a tight jaw. His voice was so low I could barely hear him.
"Do not interfere with what is going on between her and her coach.
That is none of your business. Stay out of it.
The last thing I need is for him to say something disrespectful to you.
That guy is a dick and thinks everyone is below him. "
I looked up at Kova. "Do you know him?"
He dipped his chin. "Yes. He used to coach with me. Guess it did not take him long to find another gym."
My brows shot to my hairline. "He did? When? What happened?"
"I fired him the moment I bought World Cup.
I made him pack all his shit the day I signed the papers, then I kicked him to the street.
All he did was degrade the girls. I have seen him physically throw and push them into things, bruise them, scream until they cried.
I refused to put up with that shit," he spat.
I'd never seen that sort of thing happen, but I couldn't say it surprised me either. The rumors that floated in the gymnastics world were horrific.
Kova stepped closer to me and glanced above my head.
He was quiet as he said, "Believe me, I know I have no room to talk when it comes to you, but I did not like the way he looked at the girls…
it made my skin crawl. He is not right in the head—I do not trust him.
He is a pig. Mark my words, someone will come forward one day and accuse him of something awful. "
My heart went out to the girl. "That's terrible. I can't help but feel bad for her."
"Do not feel bad for her. Your feelings will only hinder your performance. Block out the emotion and watch how far you go in this sport. Think only about yourself and how you can better yourself."
That upset me. "I feel bad for her because I've been there, Kova. So have you. Working so hard to be the perfect gymnast and then failing. What she's doing matters so much to her. Making those mistakes hurts, especially when your coach sucks. I feel her pain."
"Yes, we all know what it feels like, but use her mistakes to improve yours.
Leave your feelings at the door. You have one job to do, one chance to get it right.
Adrianna, you will never get a second chance at a first impression.
One chance, Adrianna. Make it count. Emotions will just screw you if you let them take over.
Regret forms. It drives you in a direction you are not meant to go in.
Block it out. Do not let that happen. Harden yourself and keep your eye on the prize.
Ruthless, yes. Cruel, yes. You need to shut down inside and only allow your love for gymnastics to shine through.
Only feel the sport and the motions and use all of it to express yourself in the best way you can.
That is what you need to get ahead. Trust me.
It will be worth it in the end. I give you my word. "
His words were a hard pill to swallow. I needed to sacrifice my emotions to win and I wasn't sure how to make that happen.
Keeping myself calculated and controlled would be a hard task to achieve, but it made sense because no one thrived in the business world with emotions riding on their sleeve.
In some backwards way, he had a point. It would only improve my odds of reaching the podium.
"Okay. I can try."
The coach finally stopped yelling at the girl and stood up. She picked at her nails and kept her head slanted toward the floor. He glanced in our direction and locked eyes with Kova. He pushed his chest out, and his stare was lethal.
They glared at each other until his eyes traveled down to mine and he covered my whole body with his seedy gaze.
Kova stiffened next to me, his hands fisted into tight balls, turning his knuckles white.
I could see what he meant now. I shivered, my stomach churning with unease.
I didn't like the way he looked at me. I wanted to get as far as I could from that man.
"Go take a seat. I will be there soon," Kova said under his breath, not taking his eyes off the coach.
I nodded and he walked toward the man, intent heavy in his stride.
His body moved like a caged tiger. His thick legs were strong and powerful, and his shoulders swayed with persuasiveness that demanded attention.
As he stopped to speak to the coach, Reagan appeared in my line of view.
My stomach pitched at her icy glare and the apple I had for breakfast suddenly felt lodged in my throat.
She was malicious, and the calculating look in her eyes tangled with me.
Then I remembered her little secret, and like sap dripping from a tree, the anxiety over Reagan’s accusations faded away and a smile slowly pulled at my lips.
Her eyes flashed as I winked and gave her a little wave, then I gave her my back.