4.+Narrative



Mrs. Dabrush 5/25/12 L&L Section 4 MGRP Narrative

My name is Lucy Beklea. I was born on June 14, 1964 in Onesti, Romania to Nicola and Andrei Beklea. I have dark brown eyes, long brown hair, and short bangs. Gymnastics was my entire life, and I had the perfect body for it, too. Compared to girls my age, I was small, skinny and strong. The only thing I ever wanted to do was train at Onesti’s Experimental Gymnastics School, run by Bela and Marta Karolyi. When I was only four year old, I was discovered by Bela. “Lucy, get out of the tree!” my best friend, Mira yelled. “You’re going to get hurt!” “Coming!” I said. I then jumped down, and dove straight into cartwheels with Mira. Four, five, six at a time we would do. All around Onesti’s only park we’d cartwheel, until we were so tired we could drop dead at any moment. On this day, however, we saw a large, tall man with a thick mustache walking towards us. At only four years old and by ourselves in a large park, we were scared out of our minds. Closer and closer he was drawing near.

“Can you girls do perfect cartwheels?” the man asked. We were too stunned and scared to speak. “Okay, how about if I put down a line, and you show me if you can cartwheel on it?” he tried. When we didn’t run off or refuse, he taped a line to the rough, jagged grass and we began to cartwheel. We both landed on the line; our cartwheels were perfect. “Will you very talented young girls take me home to your parents? I wish to speak with them about your astounding athletic ability.” We scampered off in the direction of our homes, with the strange man quietly following behind us.

“Knock knock” went the old wooden door knocker on our door as the strange man tapped. The man had an extremely large, thick mustache that looked like a fuzzy caterpillar crawling between his pale lips and medium-sized nose. His black hair was parted neatly on one side of his almost square head. This big, strong man was a curious fellow; he had just walked us all the way home without once asking where our parents were. Patiently, we waited outside for my mother to answer the door. Mira’s parents were over as well, for they were all panicking over the fact that their four-year-ol ds were missing again.

“Hello?” said my mother. “Pardon me, but I found your precious little girls on the playground a few moments ago, cartwheeling perfectly.” the man said. “Girls! You’re home!” the moms exclaimed to me and Mira. “What were you thinking going out all by yourself?” “Honey, let the man speak.” my daddy said to my mom. “That’s quite alright. Have you ever considered gymnastics as an output for these girls’ energy?” the man asked. “Well, no. We never have.” my mommy replied. “I am here to personally invite these young, talented girls to Onesti’s Experimental Gymnastics School. Here we put the girls through a simple test, to see if they have the capability to succeed. Judging by what I have seen today, these fearless girls will certainly pass. When or if they begin to train, we will train them to their utmost ability.” “Mira, Lucy, what do you think? Would you like to go to a gymnastics school?” Mira’s mommy asked. “Yes! Yes! Of course!” we cried. “Well, it is unanimous! The girls have agreed to take the test for your special gymnastics school. Who are you, exactly?” my daddy said. “Oh, how rude of me not to introduce myself! I am Bela Karolyi, and my wife Marta and I are opening Onesti’s Experimental Gymnastics School as well, an experiment. We have traveled all over searching for young, talented girls. Most we just stumble upon by accident, such as your girls’ case.” Bela said. “Well, what a pleasure to meet you! I am Andrei Beklea, Lucy’s father.” “And I am Nicola Beklea, Lucy’s mother. Girls, it’s late, and you need to get to bed.” my mommy said. “Yes, sleep is very important to not only heal the body, but also to heal the mind.” Bela added. “When shall we bring the girls to take your test?” Mira’s mom asked. “Tomorrow afternoon, as soon as they are released from school. Now, good night to you all. Tomorrow, we shall see if you truly shine.” Bela concluded. “Good bye!” Mira and I called.

The next day, I don’t think one ounce of knowledge went into Mira or my head. All we could think about was the test we were going to take after school! Every clock tick, desk creak, cough, sneeze, pencil hitting paper, we were distracted. What if we messed up? Would there be no more chance for gymnastics? Finally, the bell rang.

“Are you girls excited?” Mira’s mom asked. We were too scared to speak. After what seemed like an eternity in the car (actually about five minutes), we arrived.

We walked through the doors. The smell of sweat, mats and chalk washed over me like a tsunami. There was equipment everywhere, a never-ending realm of possibilities. Much to my disappointment, there were only little girls in the gym. I was desperately waiting to see REAL gymnasts perform their routines. All of the little girls were patiently awaiting their test. Some were running, jumping or walking on a tall, thin piece of wood.

“You girls, over here to the balance beam!” called a coach, who I learned later was named Marta. “So that’s what that tall piece of wood is!” I whispered to Mira. We went over, and Marta introduced herself, welcomed us to the gym, and told us to walk acros s the balance beam. It was a piece of cake for us; we weren’t scared. Some of the other girls cried when they fell off, but not us. It was like heaven. I finally felt free! Walking across that beam, I felt as if no one could bring me down, ever. Instantly I knew gymnastics was the only thing I ever wanted to do my entire life.

The running and jumping tests were a walk in the park. I beat all of the children in the race by a long shot. Even Mira, though she was close behind. I could also jump higher and longer than anyone. “She’s a natural, Nicola.” I overheard Bela say to my mom. “Yes!” I thought to myself. Now I would never, ever have to be away from gymnastics. It’s a wonder I didn’t know what I was missing.

Three days later, we got a letter in the mail: “You have been invited to train with Bela and Marta Karolyi at Onesti’s Experimental Gymnastics School. You showed true talent and passion in your tests, and we would like to develop that raw talent into a champion. At our school, you will be required to stay in a dorm, where you will be fed by a special nutritionist, clothed and given a room to share with your teammates. Our school is funded by the government, so no pay will be needed. I hope you choose to train with us. Thank you and have a great day. -Bela and Marta Karolyi”

“Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhh!” I shrieked as I ran around the house. I was so excited I was about to burst out of my own skin! “Lucy, wait. We need to talk about this as a family before we make any decisions.” my mom said. “I’m gonna be a gymnast! I’m gonna be a gymnast!” I said, completely ignoring my mom. “Lucy!” my dad yelled, “If you don’t quiet down and come here to talk about it, there will be no gymnastics for you. Ever.” “Okay, okay.”

“So, Lucy. I don’t know if you understand how big a commitment this is. You would barely ever see mommy and me, or your brothers. You would be away from home, with people you don’t know, the youngest one there, and under strict rules. You barely follow the rules at home, how can we expect you to follow them there?” “I don’t like my brothers. Anton always puts spiders behind my pillow, Cristian takes my sweets, Fillip pushes me around and hurts me, and Theodor takes my things. I want to go away to the gymnastics school so I can be by myself all the time and do cartwheels, nothing but cartwheels.” “Honey, why don’t you go over to Mira’s and play. You are clearly too young to make this decision.” mommy said. “Okay! Bye!” And off I went.

I don’t know wh at they talked about in that conversation after I left, but I know that at dinner that night - polenta I remember - the big decision was announced.

“We have decided to allow Lucy to enroll in Onesti’s Experimental Gymnastics School.” my daddy declared. “Finally, that little twerp will be out of our lives.” Theodor said. “Theodor!” my mother exclaimed. “What? We all wanted her gone. It’s just a wonder that no one has said anything. No one has as much courage as me or Theodor to voice their opinion.” Anton added. “Well, when can I leave? Clearly, I won’t be missed, as my mean brothers have shown you, and I can’t WAIT to start!” I said. “We still have to contact Bela, but if you are that anxious, Lucy, my guess is next week. I guess you’ll have to hold all of your excitement in until then.” “Yay yay yay yay yay yay yay!” I yelled all the way around the house after dinner.

The next week dragged on forever! Mira accepted her invitation as well, due to my parents convincing hers that it wasn’t too much for her after all. So, as our preschool class was getting ready for graduation and kindergarten, we were getting ready for a first-class gymnastics school!

On our last day of preschool, we waved good bye to our class. Some of our friends cried, but we said we’d visit them soon. Meanwhile, we were beside ourself with excitement! Today we were going to watch a practice and tomorrow we were moving in to the dormitory!

As we walked in, the whole gym’s attention was directed at the bars. At the bar there was a girl, just a few years older than us, performing her new routine for her teammates. According to the standards today, it was a Level 8 routine.

Start facing the low bar, in between the set. Glide kip cast immediately into a clear hip to handstand. Then a handstand pirouette into a glide kip cast squat on. Jump to the high bar, long hand kip to handstand. Giant, giant, layout fly away dismount.

I was in awe! The girl executed it perfectly. As I stood there with my mouth open, I didn’t notice the girl come up to me.

“Hi! My name is Nadia Comaneci. I see that you enjoyed my bar routine.” “I’m Lucy Beklea, and this is Mira Conta. We start training tomorrow!” I was amazed that I could even speak! This whole gymnastics world was new to me, and I was in everlasting awe. “Well, I look forward to seeing you in the gym!” “Bye!” Mira and I cried. “She was AMAZING!” Mira blurted. “I know! Maybe we’ll get to be as good as her someday!”

Bela came over to us, introduced us to the gymnasts, and gave us a tour of the apparatuses. After the brief tour I liked bars the best; whether it was because of Nadia or not, I don’t know. Then he handed us off to an assistant coach named Isabella, who showed us where we would be staying. Mira and I were to share a room on the second floor, just above the kitchen and across the hall from the bathroom. Our mothers looked satisfied with the place their little four-year olds would spend most of their childhood. After they had asked just about every safety question on planet Earth, we left.

I packed everything I owned when we got home, which wasn’t much. Back then in Romania, we were living in a Communist country, which didn’t allow much freedom, power or money. Our family was barely getting by, given the fact that they had seven large, hungry mouths to feed. Basically, I had clothes on my back, a handful of toys, and food to eat. It didn’t take me long to pack, and then I went straight to bed; the sooner I was asleep, the sooner tomorrow would come!

“Good morning!” my mommy called. Romania’s national flower, the dog rose, was the first thing I saw on the morning of the big move. My mommy was standing there, with a bouquet in her hand, just for me. Even today, many years later, I still have that flower pressed to remember my first day of training. A light-pink flower with five petals, handsomely seated on a beautiful green stem. With a middle that looked like an explosion of the sun, the dog rose made my day even brighter, which was hard to do with the level of my excitement. “Here is your room.” Isabella instructed. “Now, say good bye to your parents, because you won’t see them until visiting day, a month from now.” “Good bye Lucy!” my mother said with tears in her eyes. “I will see you in a month!” “Bye mommy!” I yelled as I rushed into my room to unpack.

I unpacked, changed into my brand new leotard and raced down to the gym with Mira. Bela and Marta took FOREVER to go over the rules, expectations and procedures. I don’t understand why they even bother being serious when they are speaking to kids under the age of six! We didn’t have the patience for that!

After what seemed like 5 billion years, we warmed up and went to our first event. Lucky Lucy, it was bars! Over and over we would work on pull-overs, back hip circles and squat-ons. After an especially long period of time on bars, we would get things called rips.

Rips are ugly, disgusting devils of gymnastics. They make their way onto your hand when you are gripping the bar too hard because the friction is too much for your fragile skin. Anywhere from 1-3 layers of skin rip off from the calluses on your vulnerable hands. Depending on the seriousness of your rip, they can either gush or ooze blood. Unfortunately, no matter what size, level of seriousness, shape or number, it is like a stampede of obese elephants running over you hand with the sharpest swords in the world every time it touches something. So now, the normal, everyday tasks of brushing your hair, washing your body, putting on your clothes or writing a paper is as painful as the Vikings’ “Bloody Eagle” torture method (where they cut you open alive and take out your insides as you scream). On the other hand, rips help form calluses on your skin so that you wi ll rip no more.

With the amount of time us little girls spent in the gym, rips were as common as paper cuts. Soon, we were well trained on all four events. The beginner levels we conquered in a few weeks; a new record for inexperienced girls our age. A couple weeks before I turned five, almost a year of training at Bela’s, I had reached past the equivalent of level 5. It was time for my first meet.

By my famous first meet, I had the skills of a level six gymnast at age 5 ½. I was beside myself with nervousness; I had never performed anything in front of anyone before. Mira was as confident as an eagle, for she had performed countless mini-shows for her family and friends constantly back when we were living at home. The time came for our first event: bars. Well, at least I got to begin on my favorite event!

“Here we go.” I thought to myself. Glide kip to front support, then cast to 30º above horizontal straight into a clear hip circle glide kip. Cast, squat on, jump to long hand kip. Cast 30º above horizontal, long hang pullover under swing. Two tap swings and a piked flyaway. “Perfect!” Mira exclaimed! I hadn’t even fallen once! Maybe this would be a good meet, after all.

“Next up, Lucy Beklea on beam.” the judge called. Scissor leg swing mount, tuck to V-sit. Coupe, Rond de jambe. Heel-snap turn, straight leg leap to 180º. Pose, back walkover, leg swing, pivot turns. Tuck jump, split jump, arabesque, scale, pivot. Handstand, ¼ turn to side handstand, ¼ turn to dismount. “Yes!” I yelled. This was turning out perfectly!

The floor routine was also a dream. My round-off, back handspring, back tuck had enough power to execute a double full. Even better, my legs in my double front handspring were perfectly straight and together! Coach Bela was amazed. Frankly, so was I. Who knew that I could perform this well under pressure? Unfortunately, on vault, the pressure got to me. I took a huge, unnecessary step in my landing. Luckily, my other events were so superb that I placed 3rd all around! The gold was given to me on bars and beam, bronze on floor, and 8th place on vault. For a 5 ½ year old, I did pretty well.

Back at the gym, I only continued to get better at a rapidly increasing pace. Suddenly, after only another year, I could perform skills that I had never even heard of before. I was improving so quickly that Bela decided to take me to the Romanian National Championships in Bucharest with the senior girls just after I turned seven.

Nadia Comaneci, my gymnastics hero, was already experienced with national and international meets. All the younger girls would ooh and ah as she came home with medals, dolls, stories, experience, talent and maturity. Finally, I could be like her with other girls looking up to me! Although I was disappointed that Mira wasn’t invited, I forgot quickly in the chaos and business of a competition. Never had I been to a meet this large! Everywhere I looked there was a flip, a twist, a handstand, a flash of a leotard or a spotting coach. I didn’t know where to begin!

On our practice day, everything that could go wrong did. I forgot my grips and floor music at the hotel, and had to borrow others. Because of this I fell off bars multiple times, twisted my ankle on floor, and was so psyched out that I couldn’t get through a beam routine and was too hurt and nervous to even attempt a vault.

The morning of the meet I was terrified. I barely ate breakfast and re-checked my gym bag constantly to avoid forgetting my things again. When we got to the arena, I relaxed. Everything was going to be okay, I said to myself. What was the worst thing that could happen?

My bars, beam and floor routines were average, and but not perfect. I didn’t place in any. Then I got to vault. Honestly, it was the best vault I have ever seen let alone performed! On this, I placed first. A miracle for a seven-year-old!

Vault is my weakest event, and Bela knew that. He didn’t expect me to even make it over the table, but I was stubborn. Realistically, how could a seven-year-old junior gymnast compete against sixteen-year-old seniors and win a gold medal on a vault taller than her without being stubborn? It is in any gymnast’s nature to be persistent and motivated.

All in all, I did okay for my first “big” meet. After Nationals, there were several smaller invitationals to be won in preparation for the European Championships. Nadia placed 13th when she was eight years old at this championship, so I had a lot to live up to. For this huge meet, Mira was coming! She couldn’t nec essarily compete, but she came as an alternate, in case anybody got hurt.

After my success at Nationals, Mira had really stepped up her game. No matter how much she denied it, she was definitely jealous. Now Mira would work until she collapsed and was improving almost as quickly as I did after my first meet. Was I jealous? No, never. I wanted to be at the same level as Mira so that I could see her more often! I wouldn’t even have minded if she was better because then she could’ve taught me and pushed me as I try to teach and push her. At least she was coming to the European Championships. I would get to see her more often than if she was left at home.

The European Championships were coming up faster than ever! We were training nonstop, in all kinds of scenarios in case one happened to occur. Performing our routines without warming up, practicing with loud noises in the background, equipment on different settings in the background, etcetera. Finally, meet week arrived.

Mira and I roomed together, which was an unexpected treat. (Usually, we all have connected rooms so that everyone can be monitored) Practice day seemed like a typical practice in the gym; not nearly as traumatic as the Romanian National Championships. On meet day I ate a normal breakfast, warmed up, and got ready to compete. All routines were stunning, at least from a seven-year-old’s perspective. I did as well as I possibly could have, and our gym went wild! Now don’t forget, our gym was a small experimental one in an unknown town, but when our gymnasts did something, they DID something. So, when they were cheering, they were CHEERING! I had never been so proud in my life! I did so well that I placed 9th in the all-around! That was four places better than the famous Nadia Comaneci had done when she was a year older than me. This year, she was 11 and won the all-around gold medal. Our gym was on top of the world, literally!

After the European Championships, I had many meets until Olympic training. Many, many meets. Some of them I won, some of them I was not so lucky. For five years I continued to improve until I had finally reached the elite level. It was time to begin training for the 1980 Olympics.

Mira was long gone. The year after I placed 9th at the European Championships, Mira competed. She didn’t place, but she did her best and met her personal goals and accomplishments. When she got back to the gym, she faced devastating news. Her father had gotten in a terrible car accident while driving to find a rare place to watch his daughter on TV. A truck had lost control and rolled on top of his car. He had been in a coma ever since. Mira was never back to normal. One day, only a week after she heard the news, she was practicing, a new, blind-landing vault. While in the air, she got distracted and lost control. Crashing down she came.

Ambulances rushed to her rescue, but there was not much they could do but snap her mangled neck back into place. She survived the accident, but was paralyzed for life at eight years old. All of her life’s dreams and accomplishments, everything she had ever worked for, gone. In a split second of losing focus, she lost her career. Her father turned out to be okay, but was devastated that he was the cause for his daughter’s life-changing accident.

With Mira gone, the gym felt empty. Making the Olympic trials was not as satisfying without your best and only friend. Sure, there were “gym friends” that I had made, but we competed against each other with no mercy and had not journeyed together as Mira and I had. The road to the Olympics was simple for an elite gymnast like me, “Just keep doing what you are doing.” Bela would say. Eventually, it was July 1980. Nadia, Bela, Marta, the rest of the team and I traveled to Moscow. We practiced in the Olympic arena two long days and then mentally prepared ourselves for competition. The hotels were beautiful, which made the night before the biggest day of our lives a little more comfortable.

Our first event was bars. Suddenly I had a flashback to my first meet, 10 ½ years earlier. We started on bars and I performed a perfect routine. I then proceeded to perform amazingly for the rest of the meet. I knew I could do it here, at the Olympics, as well.

Bars = flawless, beam = one unnoticeable mistake, floor = amazing tumbling and dance, vault = a score of 10.0. Nadia Comaneci was the first gymnast to score a 10.0 in the Olympics four years earlier. Now I had officially fallen in Nadia’s footsteps to perform perfectly on an apparatus and receive a perfect score. It triggered another flashback from when I won on vault when I was merely seven in the Romanian National Championships. I thought winning a national medal was the greatest thing that would ever happen to me. I was wrong. Winning an Olympic medal was the greatest thing that would ever happen to me.

By the end of my gymnastics career, I had achieved perfection. With a score of 10.0, my life could be complete. Looking back as an adult, gymnastics only helped me, and never hurt me. Occasionally there would be a twisted ankle or sore wrist, but I never got seriously injured or had emotional trouble because of it. Others weren’t as lucky.

Mira nearly died and another girl at our gym, Ana, developed an eating disorder from gymnastics. She thought she had to be light and skinny in order to be successful, so she stopped eating and stepped up her training. She put on a false smile and maneuvered her way out of doctors appointments and coaches meetings for years. Eventually, she suffered heart failure. At the condition she had put herself in, she didn’t make it.

I’m not saying that gymnastics is the devil that is out to get you, but it is more dangerous than a normal person expects it to be. The “dark side” of gymnastics never affected me, personally, which is “lucky Lucy” striking again.

The angel of gymnastics taught me discipline, courage, how to face my fears and motivation. Most of all motivation. Mira always called me “A headstrong, Lucky Lucy”. My motivation is what carried me to perfection. I will never have any regrets about gymnastics, not from the moment Bela found me in the park.