Elite Gymnastics

Fred was just a normal boy who did gymnastics at his average gym, and rarely got scores higher than an eight out of ten, which is average, too. Across the street from the gym at which he practiced there was an unmarked building, except for a sign on the door that said “Elite Gymnastics Training Facility.” There was one of those neon signs that said “OPEN” but he had never seen it lit.

When Fred passed the building at seven-thirty in the morning, on his way to school, the sign wasn’t lit. It wasn’t lit when he walked home from gymnastics practice at nine in the night, either.

Sometimes when Fred passed by that gym he amused himself by looking through the windows. The inside was immaculately clean, so it obviously wasn’t abandoned. Sometimes a single car was in the parking lot, but Fred never saw the driver nor the passengers. Every day he looked hopefully at that sign, wishing like mad that the sign would light up.

Then one day, he finally saw it. At first, Fred thought it was a trick of the light, but as he came closer, he realized that it was actually lit. Curiosity soon got the best of him, and he slowly pushed the door open. Fred walked into what looked like the gym’s lobby. On the front desk there was an ornamental plague that read:

MIKE DAVIDSON

Owner and head coach of Elite Gymnastics Training Facility.

Former three-time Olympic champion on the floor, vault, and parallel bars apparatuses.

Wow, this gym is coached by an Olympian, Fred thought. Just then a large sign over the desk caught his eye.

”Notice: Athletes Will Not Be Charged For Tuition.”

My mom will like this, Fred thought. She’s always saying that the tuition charges at my gym take up a quarter of my family’s monthly budget. Maybe my mom could transfer me to this gym. All my friends will probably feel like novices after they saw my gymnastics this year.

Fred sprinted all the way back home to give his mom the news. He crashed through the front door of my house and threw his backpack across the dining room and into the living room. He ran upstairs, hollering “MOM! YOU WON’T BELIEVE WHAT I SAW ON THE WAY HOME!” Fred slammed open the door to his parents’ room and stood there for a few seconds, panting to catch his breath. Then the words poured out like a waterfall. “So, there’s this building across the street from our gym, and it turns out it’s also a gymnastics place, and I walked in to check it out, and it’s coached by a former Olympian! Fred’s mom raised her eyebrows at this.) She started speaking .“But isn't this sort of thing kind of expensi-” Fred cut her off at this. “That’s the whole point!” He shouted. “There’s a sign that says that athletes are coached free of charge!” Fred’s mom transferred him, and he was happy. Until he started practicing at the new gym. Fred walked to the new gym and opened the door. A man that looked about forty years old hurriedly walked out of an office. When he walked past Fred, he muttered something under his breath to him, which Fred could barely make out as “Hello.” Fred walked into a door that said “Gym Entrance” What he saw next was what looked like a few eight year-olds doing double front-flips into a foam pit. No way those are eight year-olds, thought Fred. Those are just kids that haven’t had their growth spurt yet. And then Fred noticed some had their front teeth growing in. “If you don’t want to practice gymnastics with eight year olds, you’re free to go back to whatever wimpy gym you came out of,” said a voice behind Fred. He turned around to see the same man who walked past him in the lobby. No doubt it was Mike Davidson. “All right, line up, shortest to tallest,” yelled Mike. Fred found the next tallest kid only coming to his chin. “Twenty laps around the gym, and ten more more to the slowest runner!” Fred was lucky he was not the slowest. His legs felt like they would turn into dust when he finished. “Next, we’ll be doing one thousand sit ups to warm up those abs!” “And finally, to get the blood pumping in our arms, five hundred push ups!” When one kid got caught cheating, Mike exploded, “ HOW MANY TIMES HAVE I TOLD YOU THAT CHEATING IS UNACCEPTABLE! YOU AND THE PEOPLE CLOSEST TO YOU ARE RESTARTING FROM ZERO!” Fred scooted closer to a kid, and in a whisper, started to ask, “Is he always like this? ” But then Mike saw him talking and barked, “You there, new kid, stop talking! You are doing one hundred extra sit ups and fifty extra push ups. After that, ten minutes of l-hold on the floor.” “Then, we stretch. One minute of each split with me pushing down as hard as I can. After that, we have to hold five minutes of bridge, in a row. Any time somebody comes down, I add ten seconds.” After that grueling warm-up, Fred had to land five double front-flips on the floor. And every time he fell he had to land an extra one. After Fred had to land twenty-seven flips, he was exhausted. The next thing Mike told Fred to do was to land one hundred standing backflips on the floor. After that kind of practice, leaving Fred sore every day, his scores skyrocketed. They were all close to perfect tens - the maximum possible in gymnastics, and all his former teammates stared at him and his new teammates. But Fred couldn’t stand all that yelling. This isn’t what I signed up for, Fred thought. I signed up to get better at gymnastics, not to get hearing loss.

Although Fred and his team won the state championships, Fred decided to transfer back to his old gym.