THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Saturday, June 17, 1995 TAG: 9506160045
SECTION: DAILY BREAK PAGE: E1 EDITION: FINAL
SOURCE: BY DIANE TENNANT, STAFF WRITER
LENGTH: Long : 257 lines
``I WANT YOU TO stay like this, like you're fightin' the air, fightin' the air!''
The coach's words lingered long after gymnastics practice. Through the night, into the early morning, where they now competed with the Top 40 voice of Z104 on the radio/alarm clock.
But it was sleep, not air, that Alexis Brion was fighting at 5:30 a.m. Another practice session would begin in 30 minutes, when she had to be at the gym for a two-hour workout before her sixth-grade classes started at Salem Middle School. After school, she'd have an hour for homework and then head back to the gym for four or five more hours of practice.
``I am a woman,'' crooned the radio. ``I know what I want.''
Half right.
Alexis, 12, is hardly a woman. But she knows what she wants and what it takes to get there. Ranked second in the nation in women's gymnastics, junior division. Competing in August for the No. 1 slot. Aiming for the Olympic Games in 2000.
Such skill takes 40 hours a week of training, in addition to 32 hours of school. It takes all day Saturday and half a day Sunday flying over vaults and uneven bars and head over heels. It takes holidays and family time.
``I know what I want,'' the radio warbled.
Alexis got out of bed and went to wake her mother. Time to fight the air.
A weak sun and a sickle moon competed for sky over Gymstrada at 6 a.m. on Tuesday. Inside, five flat-chested pre-teen girls balanced childhood play with adult determination.
Gymstrada has the second-ranked girls open team, a team with no age restriction, in the United States. The reason is talent - and time. Saturday begins the training week, with eight hours of practice. Six hours follow on Sunday afternoon, and there are practices before and after school Monday through Thursday.
Alexis has taken gymnastics for five years. One of her earliest teachers urged Alexis' parents to get her on a team, and Gymstrada coaches put her on their junior squad as soon as they saw her ability.
Perhaps her skill is a product of her environment - Alexis' parents are from Fairmont, W.Va., home of Olympic gold medalist Mary Lou Retton. Perhaps it springs from hero worship - Alexis, too young to have seen their performances, still longs to be like Nadia Comaneci and Olga Korbut. But perhaps it's just talent, talent that comes out in little girls and is honed as they become young women.
Annie Jenkin's Winnie-the-Pooh shirt rippled in the wake of her body, which was flipping over and over and over. ``Lever circles,'' the girls call the exercises. Hang by your hands from the uneven bars, lift your legs over your head, arc them past your face, left to right, right to left. Do it again. And again. Six lever circles. Annie, 11, dropped to the mat.
``Munsters!'' called coach Jim Walker, recognizing the theme music that rolled from the big-screen TV in the lounge. But none of the girls was watching. A visiting coach from Pittsburgh kept his eyes on the Gymstrada girls as they warmed up. Alexis - 4-foot-3, 62 pounds - walked by.
``She barely fits over the rail here,'' the Pittsburgh coach exclaimed.
None of the girls was much bigger than Alexis. Cory Fritzinger, 13, was the tallest at 4-9. She dropped to the mat beside Katie McFarland and Kristin Uransky, both 12. Their heels thumped as their hands and feet met over their heads in V's, then unfolded.
Walker was in the kitchen, slicing kiwi, pineapple and other fruits for his elites. ``International elite'' is the highest level a gymnast can achieve in this country. Alexis, Katie and Cory have reached this level already. Kristin is a national elite, one level down. Annie is working to join the elite ranks.
Alexis dropped her gym bag on the floor and became a V.
Soon, without being told, the girls began strength exercises, made more difficult by sand-filled rubber hoses weighing 3 to 6pounds wrapped around their waists.
They performed one-armed handstands. One minute per arm. Two minutes on both arms.
Then on to the legs. Katie stood with her heels hanging off the mat, weight supported by just her toes. Alexis climbed on Katie's shoulders to give extra weight as Katie rose on her tiptoes, over and over and over.
Alexis flapped Katie's ponytail as she rode, then slid to the ground.
``I need the radio,'' Alexis said, and went to fiddle with the dial. She landed on Elton John.
``Baby, you're the one,'' he sang. Alexis stood on her hands and did a split.
Turn the radio off, Walker ordered. Time to hit the sauna, then school. The girls gathered up their Pogs and scampered into the sauna.
``You don't have to whip a thoroughbred across the line,'' Walker mused as he watched them go. ``You groom 'em nice, take care of 'em and they'll get there on heart.''
School had already started when Alexis slipped in to Charleen Devine's classroom. But teachers and principals smile kindly on the Gymstrada elites, two of whom transferred to Salem Middle so they could do what average middle-schoolers do best - form a clique.
The elites miss a lot of school, traveling to meets around the country. Their social life is limited to Fridays off. Alexis whiles away some Fridays at the mall.
But the girls make A's and B's in every subject, because they tackle the work with the same intensity they give to physical training.
Alexis pulled a battered three-ring notebook out of her bookbag and slid into her seat. Her feet didn't touch the floor.
``Please get out your math homework from yesterday,'' Devine instructed. ``The shape that you had was just a parallelogram. All you had to do was trace it over from the book. What kind of shape is that?''
``Congruent,'' the class chorused. Alexis leaned her chin on her hand.
``What we're gonna work on today is what is called ordered pairs. Ordered pairs are nothing more than a set of numbers that are given to you inside a parentheses. What you do with these is you wind up graphing them on a piece of graph paper.''
Alexis began filling out the worksheet, as Devine explained, via overhead projector, how to read the first ordered pair.
``Now let's look at the next one.''
Alexis laid her finished paper on the desk, tucked her chin into the neckband of her sweat shirt and yawned.
Some of the students didn't get it. While the teacher re-explained the lesson to them, Alexis started on her homework, standing by her desk to peer down on a protractor. No one noticed. Standing up, Alexis was the same height as her seated classmates.
``Science starts a little early today so we can watch the movie,'' Devine announced. She turned on ``The Lorax,'' the Dr. Seuss story of environmental destruction and hope.
Take notes, Devine said. There may be an essay test.
Alexis pulled out a sheet of paper, wrote a few words and drew a curly line, like a cloud, around them. Two of her classmates laid their heads on their desks and closed their eyes.
``I am the Lorax, I speak for the trees,'' the TV intoned. Alexis wrote it down. No one else did.
The Lorax protested tree chopping, water polluting and smog. Alexis filled a whole page with notes. No one else wrote a word.
Geometry test Friday, Devine reminded. Practice test Thursday, two math worksheets, questions on ``The Lorax'' for homework. Time for next class.
A brief English lesson, then a break for lunch. Alexis' classmates trooped to the cafeteria, but she veered off into the guidance office, carrying a brown paper bag. Katie was waiting there, creating a booklet titled ``Mammals of the World!''
Alexis pulled out a tuna on wheat, some crackers, two muffins, a green apple and a drink. The elites don't eat school lunches. Not healthy enough.
``What'd you do in Mrs. Devine's class?'' Katie asked.
``Took notes and we watched a Dr. Seuss movie.''
``We get to watch Fievel tomorrow.''
```Fievel Goes West?'''
Katie nodded. ``They're tearing down the Oklahoma building today.''
``Hmmmm?'' Alexis asked, her mouth full of food.
``They're tearing it down. There's two more people left inside. What does a bat eat?
``A mouse?''
``Really? They eat mice and stuff? I think they eat insects, too.''
``They do.''
Katie said she was going to the gym at 3, right after school.
``I'd like to get to the gym as early as you,'' Alexis replied. Ride with me after school, Katie suggested, instead of taking the bus home for an hour of homework. Alexis picked up the phone.
``Mom? Hi. I was wondering if I could go home with Katie today?. . . Go to the gym with Katie. . . . I'll get something. I have a couple dollars.''
``Alexis, my mom can get you something to eat,'' Katie inserted.
``She said it was fine,'' Alexis said, hanging up the phone. ``I really want to eat this apple, but I only have three minutes.''
She grabbed a couple big bites, then headed back to class.
Thursday. One hundred percent day. The end of the training week at Gymstrada, the day each girl is expected to give her all.
``Annie, keep your back straight when you do that,'' called coach Deena Baker. ``Don't arch, Cory, keep your knees straight. Katie, point your toes.''
It was Baker's turn on early morning training. The girls' feet thumped as they made V's of their bodies. Katie grunted - ``uh, uh, uh'' - as she lifed her legs over her head. Alexis's windbreaker pants shshhed in a steady beat.
``You deserve a break today,'' the radio bleated.
My P.E. teacher at school wants me to run a mile during gym class today, Alexis said suddenly.
``You can't do that today, honey,'' Baker replied. A national meet in Florida was coming up fast, and Alexis had to train with it in mind. ``We've got to do dance today, then beams. At this point, it's too hard on your legs. I'll have to call her. What's her name?''
Alexis moved to the bars for lever circles, still torn between wanting to please her coach and her gym teacher. She rubbed chalk on her hands, then spit in her palms. Arc up and over. Left to right. Right to left.
Then to the trampoline, where the girls bounced into the air, flipping over and over, to land in a pit full of foam blocks. Again. Again.
Baker watched critically from the sidelines. ``The takeoff is slow. You've gotta get off faster. . . . That was better. I still want your chest going up more on the second flip. . . . Well, you tried that time. I saw some try. . .
About 30 minutes of trampoline, then to the uneven parallel bars. Cory sang softly with the radio: ``I, I, I am everyday people.''
Three bar routines were going at once. Baker called out instructions. Alexis flew around the bars once, then came up to the coach.
``Are you gonna call. . . ''
``Excuse me, that is not what I want. Your elbows were bent,'' Baker called to another gymnast.
``Are you. . . ''
``I want a handstand in this routine.''
``Are you gonna call or write a note?''
``I'm gonna call.''
``I could just tell her I ran it already.''
Baker gave Alexis her full attention. ``You're going to represent the United States in two international competitions and you have to get ready.''
``I could run it on Friday,'' Alexis suggested.
``That'd be OK.''
Alexis went back to the bars.
The gym was full at 7 p.m., classes running on every piece of equipment. The elites paced off their steps on the runway to the vault.
Alexis took 13 strides to cover 80 feet, and hurled herself into the air.
``Nice!'' Cory called.
``Stay with this the rest of the summer,'' Baker approved. ``That's great.''
Alexis smiled broadly, and went back to try again.
``Great Balls of Fire!'' the radio screamed, as Alexis hurtled down the runway.
``That was beautiful. That was beautiful,'' Baker said.
``That was purty, Alexis,'' another coach called across the gym.
The uneven bars. The trampoline. The floor routine, Alexis' best event. She scored a 9.85 once in floor competition, her personal best score. Last weekend, she equaled that score on the uneven bars at the United States Association of Independent Gymnastics Clubs meet in Florida, and achieved her highest personal all-around score of 38.55.
The Gymstrada team placed fourth in the nation last year at that meet, second this year. Alexis' mother, Laura, had taped last year's performance from Home Team Sports, and she watched it again just before her daughter competed this year, in early June.
``She's absolutely adorable,'' a commentator said.
``Here's her last tumbling pass. Round off, whip, back handspring, back handspring . . . ''
``Ooohhhhhh!''
``. . . triple twist. World class tumbling.''
``That was great. In the Olympics you won't see a routine, I think, more difficult than that. It just makes you kind of sad that they've changed the rules in the Olympics that you have to be 16 before you can enter.''
But Alexis, during this practice, had lost her grip once, twice, on the uneven bars. She'd have to fight for it tonight. She launched herself at the bars again.
``Come on!'' shouted coach Jim Walker. ``Oh! OK. Come. . . . Oh, yes, baby!''
Alexis was breathing hard as she finished. 9:10 p.m. She still had a couple hours of homework maybe, before bed by 11:15.
She had time for another bar routine first. The radio was still playing, but she didn't hear the music. She was focused on her work.
Time to fight the air one more time. ILLUSTRATION: TAMARA VONINSKI/Staff
Gymnast Alexis Brion, 12, who is ranked second nationally in her age
group, practices the vault at Gymstrada in Kempsville. After each
attempt, she writes down notes.
Alexis trains about 40 hours a week, in addition to her 32 hours of
school.
Alexis receives a hug between workouts from fellow gymnast Bethany
Moore, who is 10.
GYMNASTICS ON TV
Home Team Sports will televise the United States Association of
Independent Gymnastics Clubs meet three times: at noon Sunday, at 3
a.m. Monday and at 2:30 p.m. Saturday, June 24.
NBC will televise the Budget Rent A Car Meet/United States vs.
Ukraine from 3 to 5 p.m. Sunday, June 25.
by CNB