Speaking of leotards and Friday night entertainment, allow me to take you back to last month, when the NCAA Women’s Gymnastics Championships came to town.
Usually not one for sports spectating, I experienced a strange frenzy of anticipation in the week leading up to the meet. (I hadn’t felt as excited about gymnastics since I watched Mary Lou Retton vault a perfect 10 in the 1984 Olympics on the family TV, an occasion which involved much hoarse screaming and sofa bouncing and pillow throwing and resulted in a high that lasted at least a few months. The late ’80s and early ’90s, which should have been the peak of my gymnastics obsession, were instead marked by brooding frustration at my own mediocre abilities.) On Friday morning, I sneaked away from my desk and raced across campus to queue for tickets that would be happily distributed among Scott’s leotard-loving office mates. That evening, I entered the bright coliseum wide-eyed and giddy.
Then the meet began, and the dizzyness set in. Since there were six teams competing, all four events ran at once, and it was impossible to decide where to look! (Memo to the NCAA: In lieu of the keepsake paperweight you handed every spectator, how about producing a glossy program to help us keep track of who the hell we were watching?) We were perched above the beam, my favorite event, and my flitting gaze rested there by default. Scott, the dear, endured my many oohs and aahs at flawless full turns (an elemental move that I remember practicing ad nauseum, much harder than it looks), the occasional squeal at a front tuck (an impossibly blind move), and a sharp jab in the side when someone threw a series of back handsprings and landed with her feet together (”holyshitdidyouseethat?!”)
Overall highlights included watching Ashley Miles (a senior from Alabama, by far the best-dressed team in their velvety crimson) set the floor smokin’ in a “Purple Haze.” (Whoo-hoo! Rock ‘n’ roll! As a high school freshman, I proudly tumbled to a homemade montage of Ozzy Osbourne.) My favorite gymnast though was Gritt Hofmann, the senior from Utah whose graceful beam and floor performances ruled the night. I fancy her a sort of Parker Posey or Rachel Griffiths on steroids, her every move cutting the air like butter. Butter. And since her team is cool enough to make their videorecordings available online, I can watch her cut butter till the cows come home. (You can read an official recap of the meet here or watch a cubist interpretation of the first eight minutes of the CBS broadcast here.)
I was disappointed that the Beavers didn’t make it past Thursday’s initial round of competition and I didn’t get to see them perform. But I’m thinking, next year, season tickets. (Great birthday present, no? Broad hint there to the athletically inclined in my family!)
You got Ozzy Osbourne? How did I end up with Pachabel’s Canon in D? I swear I didn’t ask for it. Must have something to do with your ballet instructor becoming assistant coach…
I’m sorry to say that Taleeba’s director wanted some nifty stunts for an avante gard performance last year and I was no longer able to perform my amazing aerial cartwheels…however, while attempting them in the studio, I did mess up my creaky hip joint just in time for the holidays. *sigh*, the signs of aging: I guess I won’t be doing that again!
I do continue to indulge the FWDC with my spontaneous cartwheeling during dull moments. Something’s still working there *creak, creak*!
Thanks for the flashback photo! You’re so damn CUTE!
And don’t forget who built your balance beam for you!
Not that I really remember doing so…but I helped! The online video clips were awesome, I couldn’t stop watching them! Not that I had a very long gymnastics career myself, but the bars were always my favorite. Swinging around like a monkey….hmmm any surprise there?
Hey, I updated my blog, so make sure you comment!
Looks like this tornado watch might turn into a warning soon, so I better turn the computers off now….
Oh my little Katie Beth, pigtails flying on the beam at Rome City. I have an immediate visual of myself in the bleachers videotaping (think recorder pack slung on shoulder & camera the size of a suitcase) then jumping up and down as she nailed the routine. What a delight.
I was also present the day she stomped her little foot and refused to enroll in the next gym class at the Youth Center. That was the class that taught the round-off. Until she could actually DO the round-off, she would not suffer herself to be enrolled in that class. This is not ancient history. Ask her about library school….
Lovely L. Claude, I remember your aerials cut the air like butter! Damn you for making them look so easy! I think my gallery of shameless nostalgia will be incomplete until I get to include your cute jr. high gymnast portrait.
During a rare moment of elation last month, I did cartwheels across my front yard. It was somewhat disconcerting to feel so young in spirit and so *creak, crunch* OLD and fragile in body.
Hey, I added your Taleeba site to my links list. Give us more photos! Give us a belly dancing blog!
Em, I did forget to tell the story of the homemade, regulation length, practice beam that you and Mum lovingly crafted as a birthday present. Maybe somewhere Mum has a photo of us playing around it in leotards and leg warmers. (My friend who goes suspiciously by BOZWIGGLE around here continues to demand documentary evidence of leg warmers.) Maybe not!
Hi, Mum!
ha ha, i was just searching for some old videos and your lovely blog post came up.
just wanted to say thank you & hi.
gritt