My Olympic Story

Source of Inspiration: Great American Stories Contest: Olympic Games

I am not entering the contest, seeing as I work for the company that is sposoring it, but the topic inspired me.  I hope you enjoy my story.



    Let me just start by saying that PE was pure torture for me in Junior High School. When I think back at it, I am actually quite surprised by the way some of my PE teachers didn't try to stop the treatment that could have turned me into Sissy Spacek, had I existed in a Stephen King novel.
    I would throw up before going to school in the morning at the thought of my horrifying peers who would shout at me in anger and desperation when I "missed the ball."
    I worried for weeks that a 60 question written tests about the rules of football would mar my report card with an "F".  And for the record, not even my grandmother (a fan so loyal to the 49ers that she has to turn off the TV and vacuum if the game is too close because she can't bear the stress) could pass this test. 
    I even went back to my elementary school to ask my former PE teacher how to serve a volleyball, thinking it might make my teammates hate me less.  She gave me lessons everyday after school for a week.  By Friday I could serve a volleyball in her presence, but not in my PE class.

    Then came the Summer of 1996, and the Magnificent Seven.  Those girls had me glued completely to the TV screen for days, despite the drenching heat that was trying to lure me out to the swimming pool.  Seven girls, like me (albeit more talented and a little smaller in stature).  They slicked their hair back with the same clips that my mom bought me at Target, and they acted more like my friends than the trolls in my PE class.
    And they were winning the Gold Medal at the Olympics.  The Academy Awards of the sports world, as I thought of it.
    I watched them burst into tears when they fell during their routines, I tried to do handstands during commercials, and I begged my mom for gymnastics lessons.  I couldn't believe that Bela Kyroli let Kerri Strug attempt her heroic one legged land, and I admired the team for refusing to accept their gold medals without the injured Strug's company.  I knew all of their names and their best events.  My "favorite girl" varied, depending on the day.

    School started again a few weeks later, and I entered the eighth grade.  I went to my PE class with a nervous heart.  After taking roll, my new teacher, a woman teacher, quizzed us on our sports knowledge.  Whoever answered a question right got a lolly-pop that they could eat right there in class (normally a forbidden activity).  A few questions in, she asks,

"What are the  Gold Medal Winning Women's Gymnastics Team doing now?" 

My hand shot up before I knew what was happening.  Even more amazingly, she called on me.

"They are on tour,"  I said.

"Yes!" she shouted at me and threw a lollipop up the bleachers, directly at me.

I didn't catch it, of course.  It landed in my lap.

But that's not really the point.