The Strongman
12
Exhibition
I GUESS I didn’t look great when I showed up at the gym for my toddler class Saturday morning. I had a bruise on my left cheek and another on my left arm.
Tara and Jennifer were especially concerned when they looked at my hands. My knuckles were scraped and my hands were really stiff. I had to tell them about what happened with my sister. Tara was horrified.
“You can’t do that kind of thing!” she said. “If you were accused of some kind of violent behavior, the committee might rescind our invitation. And you’d have real trouble finding any partner willing to work with you. You have to be careful. Bases are known for their strength and for working with small tops. Most people would think of us as fragile. We might not be as fragile as the public thinks, but if you were known to have been fighting, people would pull away.”
“I didn’t want to,” I said petulantly. “What could I do? My sister was in danger.”
“I know, Hon. And I think you did the right thing. It’s just really frightening and dangerous on so many levels. If Madison asks you about it, just say you fell during a practice routine.”
Of course, Madison did ask and that’s what I told her. I don’t think either she or Coach Daniels believed me.
We had a party at the house on June sixteenth. Some of the folks from the gym came. Of course, Tara and Jennifer and Bob. My family. Mikey was without a date. The occasion was my graduation from high school. I hadn’t had to attend anything since Memorial Day, and I chose not to attend the school ceremony. I was sure the school was happy to have me out of their hair and didn’t need the embarrassment of having me seen with a bunch of real students.
There were a few of those other students I knew had graduated with a doctored transcript. There were plenty of students who were no smarter than me, and a number of athletes who simply didn’t need to try. I wondered how many of them would actually succeed in college when professors refused to pass them so they could play basketball or football.
But Mom and Dad wanted to have a celebration that I’d made it, so we held that on the day of graduation. There were some gifts. Most were pretty modest. I didn’t expect people to bring me a lot of loot for having passed the lowest standard of public education. Mom and Dad, though, had taken me out the previous week and bought me a car.
It wasn’t one of the popular teen cars. Sure, I’d love to have a RAV 4 or a Volkswagen, but I was more concerned with the ease of getting Tara in and out of my car. We still usually took her car on dates. It had been an unusual evening when Mikey called me and as it happened, I had Mom’s car. So, I agreed with getting an inexpensive Chevy Trax. It had a more spacious interior and was still low enough to the ground that Tara could get in and out easily.
Mikey got me the next most elaborate gift. I think Mom and Dad might have had something to do with it. She got me a portable massage table. Well, I didn’t really have much in the way of clientele that I’d go to visit, but I was progressing nicely and maybe after the exhibition, I’d be putting more time in on massage.
I guess she must have coordinated things with Tara and Jennifer. Tara bought me a selection of massage oils and Jennifer got me a full set of linens for the table. I needed sheets for under the client and to drape. Then I also needed towels so they could wipe themselves off if there was too much oil. The gifts were all very thoughtful.
We had a great time, and after everyone left, Tara and I spent some time ‘testing’ my table. That led to some pretty heavy making out and eventually I got her dressed and out to my car to take home. I was very near to just carrying her up to my bed.
We were only a week away from our exhibition.
On June twenty-fifth, Tara and I approached the floor at Target Center in Minneapolis to do our routine. I definitely felt we’d upped the level of our acrobatics since the Louisville competition, and I thought our story was really beautiful. I wasn’t expecting the turnout for our exhibition that we had, though.
Like at the Louisville competition, the general space at the arena was divided up with the kinds of events that would be held in each of them. The special needs gymnasts had all performed and had all received their medals. Some of the routines were so simple as to be over before I realized they’d begun. For example, a girl carefully approached the mat and stood at the edge. She breathed deeply before jumping about six inches off the floor and landing on both feet. She raised her arms in the air in a perfect pose for a gymnast after sticking a landing. Then her trainer rushed to the floor and caught her before she collapsed. She was carried back to her wheelchair and waved at everyone.
On the other hand, there were some kids with less obvious handicaps. They did routines on the uneven parallel bars that were only performed on the low bar, for example. A Down syndrome girl did a whole tumbling exercise across the mat, and then landed in her final pose. When she started to walk off the mat, though, she wandered as if the whole thing had made her dizzy and her coach rushed to help her off the mat.
Nearly all the other events that were happening that day were over and competitors were just practicing on the equipment when there was a general announcement over the arena PA that former national champion Tara White and her partner Paul Bradley would be performing at the acrobatic gymnastics station. The announcer proceeded to inform everyone about the tragic accident that occurred four years ago and of Tara’s valiant effort to overcome the restrictions imposed by her injuries.
It was a lot different than what we’d prepared for. We were told there would be no general announcement and that those who were there would see us and those who weren’t would miss it. Instead, the stands emptied from the rest of the arena and filled the area surrounding the acrobatic gymnastics floor. That included all the other teams that would be competing in acrobatic gymnastics the next day. The stands around us were filled—many of the gymnasts having joined the spectators just to show support for one of their own who had been injured.
My parents and sister were out there. I knew Madison and her sister Penny, and Coach Daniels were attending. At one point, I thought I saw Mr. Fields, my lit teacher, in the stands. When everything had quieted down, we got the nod and approached our starting positions.
Our black unitards were perfect for this routine. Our new choreography was elegant and the music was stunning. The choreographer had chosen an old Paul McCartney song, but it was a new rendition by a female artist. When the tone sounded and our music began, I started to circle Tara, lying on the floor. Then I reached down to bring her to a stand and swing her around slowly. When the words started, our routine really took flight—so to speak.
Blackbird singing in the dead of night
Take these broken wings and learn to fly
All your life, you were only waiting
For this moment to arise
Then I launched Tara into the air and she looked like she was truly taking flight. Usually, audiences are respectfully silent during an acrobatic gymnastics routine so as not to distract the performers. But when Tara took flight, there was a sudden and loud cheer from the audience. Tara was back.
When the final reprise played, I used a cannonball launch to put Tara into her double salto. Instead of letting her reach the floor for her landing, I caught her above my head with my hands around her hips. Our ending pose was with her over my head, her arms outstretched like wings and her legs out straight behind her. We held that pose for the three seconds to the end of the music and then for another couple of seconds as the audience applauded. Then I brought her down into my arms to stand and bow to the audience.
There was quite an ovation for the girl who returned to perform in her chosen art and I was happy just to have been part of her triumph.
Of course, even though the competition and events were over for the day and no score was posted for our routine, we weren’t finished. They had things set up for a post-performance press conference. I guess they often interview the champions in various classes. Regardless, Tara, Jennifer, and I were led to a small dais with microphones on it and a dozen or so reporters were there. I was told it would be streamed as well as recorded for television and newspapers.
Wow!
“Tara, how does it feel to be back?” asked the first reporter.
“Yeah. Well, I’m just so thankful for the people who believed enough in me to make me do the work to get back to this point. I hope I’ll be able to show them how much I appreciate them.”
“Tara, what are your plans next? Will you compete?” asked another reporter.
“Um… Yeah. I mean, that’s a tough decision. I’m twenty years old and if you check the ages of the competitors on the national team, I don’t think you’ll find a top anywhere near that old,” she said. I noticed that she didn’t indicate it was because of her abilities. “I’ll be looking for ways to help other gymnasts achieve the dreams I missed four years ago because of the accident. I’ve been taking instruction in coaching and I think I have a good perspective to bring to that side of the game.”
“Paul, what was it like working with Tara. This was your first time out in this kind of setting, right?” asked another reporter.
Shit! I didn’t expect to be asked any questions!
“Tara is phenomenal. Every day she grew more confident and agile. If she decided she wanted to compete again, I’d be begging her to continue as her partner.”
There was more, of course, but it all sounded pretty much the same from there.
We went out for dinner with our family. Jennifer handed Tara a folded-up paper as we sat at the table. We weren’t competing in anything, so no score had been posted at the arena. The judges, however, actually compiled a score sheet for us!
We didn’t score over thirty. I was pleased, however, to see that our score was better than what Madison and I had done in Louisville. I didn’t think I’d share that with Madison or Coach Daniels.
After dinner, I took Tara back to her apartment. Jennifer had said she was spending the night with Bob, so we had the apartment to ourselves.
“Paul, you’ve been a perfect partner,” Tara whispered as we sat on the sofa kissing. “You’ve never asked for more than I was willing and ready to give. I know that I’ve carried the baggage of what happened to Jackson and me, and I’ve held you more distant than I wanted to. But I love you, Paul. Will you spend the night with me?”
“Tara? You mean…?” I couldn’t even go on. I was kissing her and she was nodding.
“Yes. Make love to me.”
“What about… Will we be able to work together?”
“We’ll have to see how that goes. I’m not anticipating doing more performances, but we might be able to do some work in the gym.”
“You’re not? Why?”
“As wonderful as everything we did today was, we still wouldn’t have made the cut in a competition. There aren’t a lot of places where we could do exhibitions. I mean, even the international federation, FIG, wouldn’t approve us doing another exhibition here. We might get one or two regional exhibitions, but we’ve had our moment of glory. I showed what was possible with determination and a loving partner. Now, I want to enjoy and appreciate the other things life has to offer. Like being lovers.”
“Yes,” I said. “Tara, I’ll be whatever you want me or need me to be. I think I love you.”
We’d always been careful to keep a layer of clothing between us. Sure, we’d managed to get our hands inside that clothing, and we’d both climaxed from the loving we gave each other, but undressing with Tara was a completely new and almost otherworldly experience. We showered together and I relished just letting my soapy fingers glide over her body. And she explored me just as thoroughly. When we rinsed and stepped out of the shower, I carefully and gently dried her before carrying her to her bed.
And then we made love. Not all at once, but continuing to explore each other and the wonder of our bodies touching. She pulled me on top of her with her legs spread wide and guided me into her. I couldn’t believe what I was experiencing. Only staying focused on her eyes as we moved together kept me in the same world. We went slow and when I’d come the first time, I continued to move and stayed hard enough for Tara to follow soon after. Then we rolled over so Tara was astride and she worked herself up and down on me as I supported much of her weight. I felt her and kissed her and loved on her breasts as we both rose to another climax and settled into each other’s arms in the bed.
“I love you, Tara. I’ve known it for a long time now, but was always afraid to tell you. I promise I’ll never be afraid to tell you how I feel again.”
“Maybe I’ve been foolish to insist that we not be lovers until after our exhibition, but this was so wonderful. I will always cherish this night.”
“You know what I said the first time you kissed me,” I laughed. “A boy never forgets his first.”
We talked and laughed and made love again.
The next morning was only Wednesday, but we didn’t go to the gym. Most of the morning we spent in bed, just relishing the feeling of holding each other. Of course, we couldn’t stay there all the time. We showered again, dressed, and went to the kitchen to debate the merits of cooking something that was in her refrigerator, or ordering food to be delivered. We finally opted for the latter, just so we wouldn’t need to clean up so much.
When the delivery person rang her bell, I was surprised to find Jennifer standing behind the delivery, also waiting to come in. I took the food and ushered Jennifer into the room.
“I thought I might get home in time to cook for you,” she said. “I see you have no need for my services.”
“Sit down, Jennifer. I think we ordered enough for everyone without even trying. Everything on the menu just sounded good,” Tara laughed.
“Did… uh… everything go okay last night?” Jennifer whispered to Tara. There was no way I couldn’t hear her.
“It was so wonderful, Jennifer. I only wish we’d started months ago.”
“I’m sure it was for the better.”
We opened packages of Thai food and set out plates. Then we sat at the table and served our food to begin eating.
“You were reviewed,” Jennifer said. “There’s an article alongside the main report from Nationals in the Star.”
“Were they kind?”
“Not unkind. It’s pretty much what we assumed. But there is a nice little statement about you possibly being available to coach.”
“Oh. That’s nice.”
“You’ll need to be doing something,” Jennifer said. “Your moment of glory would be wasted if not.”
“Of course, you’re right. I haven’t wanted to consider that before we did the program. The only thing I planned for was last night.”
“I hope that isn’t all there is to it,” I said, holding her hand.
“No, not at all. Let’s read the review.”
In 2020 the career of Tara White and Wesley Jackson, the reigning Mixed Pairs Acrobatic Gymnastics US National Champions, came to a sudden end in Geneva when the two fell from a difficult figure. White was reported as paralyzed and her partner, suffering from unnamed injuries, passed on later that year.
So, imagine the surprise and delight at yesterday’s Gymnastics City USA when White returned to the floor for a flawless performance with her new partner, Paul Bradley. Months of healing and years of therapy have gone into White’s recovery and the performance in front of 2,000 fans at Target Center left spectators breathless.
The artistry of choreographer Rachel Levine showed through in the performance as one of the most moving pieces this observer has ever seen. Set to the popular Paul McCartney tune of “Blackbird” breathily performed by Tiffany Alvord, White seemed to come alive with the music echoing the theme of her broken body learning to fly again.
And her partner, Bradley, kept her in flight and well protected against mishap. His throws and her spins were perfectly timed to the music. The most stunning of all was having White come out of a double pike salto high above Bradley’s head. Rather than let her land supported in front of him, Bradley caught her in the air and held her above his head as she appeared to truly be ready to fly away. A stunning performance.
Of course, critics and the curious will ask why they were performing in an exhibition instead in the Acrobatic Gymnastics competition, which begins this morning at eight o’clock at Target Center. No, my friends, heartbreaking as it is, Tara White will never be up to the stunning quality she was at four years ago. While thriving on the artistry of this performance, the keen observer could note pain etched deeply in the features of this remarkable talent.
The two did no synchronous tumbling—a requirement of mixed pairs in competition—because White’s legs, supported by knee braces and a pelvic brace beneath her unitard, are not strong enough to propel her into these exercises. She did not launch herself into any of the throws, but rather depended on Bradley to deftly lift and propel her into the air. On occasion, one could see the slight flaws of her positions with feet not quite together or legs not completely straight. All these things would count against the team in a competition, though public viewers seemed not to notice them last night.
I know this, though: If I were a mixed pair starting on my journey to the World Championships, I would beg Tara White to coach me. Recovering from an injury that everyone assessed as permanent to the point of being able to perform with such exquisite artistry is a testament to her determination, skill, and passion.
Tara White and Paul Bradley, thank you for inspiring another generation of acrobatic gymnasts!
Tara gripped my hand tightly as Jennifer finished reading the review. Tears were streaming down her cheeks. While the reviewer had praised her to the heavens in his article, he had also deftly condemned her. She would never be a true gymnast again.
All Tara and I wanted to do for the next few days was make love. At least, I think we were of one mind on that. It was usually me following her to the bedroom.
Jennifer, however, cracked the training whip and got us out of the apartment to watch the rest of the competition. We had missed the morning rotations Wednesday, but we were at the arena and in our seats for the afternoon rotations. Lots of people came up to us when we entered the arena, congratulating us—Tara, mostly—on our performance.
She was readily identifiable, even if not dressed in a uniform. She could get along without support for short periods, but knowing we’d be up and down all day, she chose her walking canes for support. Well, that was enough to draw attention, and sitting in reserved seats in the front row completed our visibility.
The rotations at nationals did not focus on a single discipline at a time. Women’s pairs, men’s pairs, and mixed pairs were interspersed with men’s and women’s groups. It did help to keep the competition interesting, but made it harder to compare one act with another. Tara explained that was intentional. Each performance was to be judged on its own merits according to a uniform scale. It was not supposed to be judged as a comparison of acts.
It would be cool if we had a political system like that. Imagine the candidates each being evaluated based on an independent scale that simply determined who had the highest score as being the most suited to become president. Of course, we could never get even two people to agree as to what that scale should be. I was nineteen and this year would be the first time I voted in a national election. My civics class had been all about the voting system and making sure we all voted in the election. It was our civic duty.
It was pretty obvious, though, that nothing Madison and I had done in our one competition outing would come close to any of the qualifiers who were competing in the nationals. And Tara quietly pointed out all the different moves and poses she couldn’t do. It was eye-opening. By the end of the day, I could even understand some of Coach Daniels’s criticisms of what I did with Madison. I guess I was translating too much of what I needed to do with Tara into what I could do with Madison.
The competition stretched out for three days and we sat in the stands every day. Friday, the senior individual gymnastics events started. I wanted to go observe some of the men’s events, since that was where I considered my future to be. I was happy about Tara’s and my performance, but I wanted to get back to competing on the men’s apparatuses.
Andy Warnock had qualified and would be competing for a spot on the men’s Olympic team. These were really the crème de la crème of male gymnasts. Eric Reynolds had also managed to qualify, but it wasn’t likely he’d get past the first round. The guy looked twice as old as any of the other male gymnasts—and I guess he was twice as old as some of them. He was thirty-three and had been pursuing this dream all his life. He was a good role model. He never quit, even when he was past the age of having a chance to qualify for the team.
And he passed that ethic on to the rest of us he coached. It was a shame our gym hadn’t qualified a full team to compete for team honors. If I had qualified, we’d still have needed two more minimum. We really needed to attract more guys to the gym. There were some younger teens who might be ready for the next national trials.
Tara had openly declared that she wouldn’t be performing again. After seeing the other mixed pairs and even the women’s pairs and men’s pairs, what she was capable of—as remarkable as it was—wasn’t going to win a competition. Maybe we’d still practice some routines, but several people had approached her right there in the stands about coaching them. Jennifer had thought ahead and had business cards made up that Tara could give to people who were interested.
At the end of the week, she had several leads for new gymnasts to coach. She’d be busy testing them in the coming week.
Please feel free to send comments to the author at devon@devonlayne.com.
