behind the numbers on the wall

Beach crossed the floor to the island of parents sitting in folding chairs.  We all sat waiting in rows like seats on a bus that wasn't leaving anytime soon.  And WE really needed to get going. 

"Well, that could have gone worse," she said smiling.

In my hand, I held the phone.  MSO had her listed in 1st place.

It's what she had come over for- the phone.

I closed down the page without saying anything about it because I knew it didn't really matter to her. She took the phone and slipped away with her team behind the big black wall of curtains.

Beach hates awards.

Beach already knows how she did.  In her scoring, there are no numbers.

She knows she did amazing (for her) on Bars (but won't admit it).  She knows that even though she stayed on there will be extra work waiting for her at Beam.  She knows that the floor colors confused her so much during her Floor Routine that she had to close her eyes to concentrate. She knows she didn't even try to twist her vault.

When the bus did get going, the girls were given their medals behind the black curtain then marched out to stand on the podium for placement and pictures.  It was faster but they all came out with the same dazed look.  They walked slowly and the cheering was muted because their team wasn't out there with them.

Behind the curtains was were Beach found out she had taken 1st in the All Around.  It was also where she would have realized she had been bumped up into the older age division making her one of the younger girls in that bracket.  It put her in with 3 of her teammates including Sophie.  She would have never wanted that.

"It could have gone worse," she repeated on the way out then she shook her head and whispered, "I didn't like this meet at all."  Sophie was mostly silent.

It took one order of hot greasy fries, 2 waxy cups of cold creamy ice cream and a hundred miles for the mood to lift in the car.  The hills of the Mojave Preserve at 75 mph.

Palm Springs was beautiful.  The meet was very well run.  The underlying somberness was the shadow cast by the light at the end of the tunnel.  Their days together are numbered.  They can see it.  They can feel it.  They know it is coming.

It was Jeff's last scheduled meet traveling Sophie which by default means it was our last meet traveling together too.  The rest of the season Sophie will go out with the team.

And the question of whether or not Sophie will retire at the end of this year hangs in the sky like a winter storm warning.  It is why we didn't take the girls to watch the other levels compete.  It was their last trip together traveling in the family we created around them.

In the gym, Sophie is struggling to hold to the skills she has. She is pushing away from gym.

Beach is struggling on how to let Sophie go and how to keep going herself at this level of competition.

Beach's back hurts.  Her hips and hamstrings are so tight they ache.  She's lonely.  She is looking ahead and wondering who will be standing beside her at the end.  Who will miss her when it is her time to go.
 

When they placed the Team awards Beach was the last of her mates to walk out.  The announcer handed her the trophy.  She gladly handed the trophy off to her team.

Beach handing the team award to her mates

She knew she could have done better and she knew it could have been worse.  Gymnastics is a sport made for lions not little girls.  When I tell people that scores don't tell you anything about the girls, I mean it.  Sometimes they don't even tell you anything about the meet they had.

Hidden beneath the numbers hanging on the wall are the real stories of who they all are.

If you ask Beach about competing she will tell you, "I'm not competing against anyone. First, I am trying not to die.  Second, I am trying to do my best while trying not to die. And if I get past that I am hoping everyone else is out there doing the same."