Grace, Gold, and Glory Page 14

  On the night of team finals, our big job was to set aside every potential distraction and refocus on one goal — team victory. If we pulled it off, we’d be only the second US women’s team to go golden since the Magnificent Seven did that for the first time at Atlanta’s 1996 Olympics. I was the only gymnast slated to compete in all four apparatuses, and as the hour of my first exercise drew closer, a bunch of butterflies took flight in my stomach. I paced at the sidelines.

  First up was Jordyn. She set the tone for our team’s performance that evening by delivering an extraordinary vault exercise that earned her a score of 15.933. Later, when I took my position for vault, my mind flashed through all the training techniques Chow had given me. “Instead of running fast at first,” he once told me, “start out slow, get your rhythm, and then speed up.” I steadied myself on the floor and drew in a breath. Run slowly … then faster … extend palms toward vault … square off the shoulders … pop off the table … soar high into the air with two and a half twists … and then … stick it! An excellent beginning for me: 15.966 on vault.

  As the evening inched on, every girl on our team turned in one dazzling routine after another. Our two biggest rivals in the competition, Romania and Russia, and another strong contender, China, all completed their rotations before we did. That meant that by the time we got to the final floor exercise, we knew exactly what we needed to score to go home with a gold. As we headed into the fourth and final event, here’s how everything stacked up: USA at 138.230 (yay!). Russia at 136.931. China at 133.597. And Romania at 131.714.

  Here’s the thing: when you find yourself in the top spot — or maybe especially when you’re temporarily number one — that’s not the time to break out in a round of high fives. In this sport, the difference between a win and a loss often comes down to mere tenths of a point. So with one tiny slip or falter, what seems like a done deal can quickly come undone. So as ecstatic as we all were to see our position after the first three rounds, we knew we still needed to go out there and rock the house.

  And boy did we. As each of the remaining countries took their turns, Aly, Jordyn, and I — USA’s competitors on floor — all jogged on the sidelines to warm up. I was the first of the three to compete. Win or lose, I had already made a choice: I would have fun with this. I took a small extra step on my first tumbling pass (shoot!), but then I nailed all the others — and I stuck that landing before striking my final pose. Jordyn then proved her resilience and team spirit when she turned out a brilliant routine. Finally, Aly took the floor for the final performance of the evening. As the tune of the Hebrew folk song “Hava Nagila” piped up, Aly hit one tumbling pass after another and ended with a vibrant smile. The only thing left to do was wait and stare up at the scoreboard. No matter how well you think you’ve done, you’re never certain of your position until those numbers actually appear. Had we pulled it off?

  Long pause. And then at last, the scores: US with 183.596. Russia with 178.530. Romania with 176.414. We had done it!

  “U-S-A!” the crowd chanted. “U-S-A!” The five of us huddled, wiped away buckets of tears, and hugged for what seemed like a lifetime — which is pretty close to what each of us had spent to get to that arena.

  “Can you believe it?” I said to McKayla.

  “It’s so amazing!” she screamed.

  That night, back in the village, we laughed, hugged, recounted the best moments of the night — but we knew we had to save the real party for much later. This girl needed her rest! Especially when, in less than forty-eight hours, I’d face the greatest test of my entire gymnastics career.

  The all-around women’s gymnastics competition is the pinnacle event in my sport. Mary Lou Retton, the first US gymnast to ever claim the prize, went golden back in 1984 at the Los Angeles games. Only two other American gymnasts followed: Carly Patterson in the 2004 Athens Olympics and Nastia Liukin in Beijing’s 2008 games. As you already know, since I was eight, I’ve dreamed of becoming the fourth on that list. On a Thursday evening in London, I got my golden opportunity.

  That morning, I reached into my suitcase and pulled out the day’s letter — another one from Mom, the third I’d received in the batch. In it, my mother offered exactly the kind of encouragement I needed. Here is a portion of Mom’s letter:

  Hey, Baby Girl,

  As you go to strive for the next part of making your dream come true, just remember that you have worked very hard for this moment! Be strong in the Lord and in the power of His might. Joshua comes to mind as I think about you today. God told Moses to go take the land from the people who were occupying the Promised Land (Joshua 1:9 – 11): “Haven’t I ordered you, ‘Be strong, be bold’? So don’t be afraid or downhearted, because Adonai your God is with you wherever you go.” Y’hoshua instructed the officials of the people to go through the camp and order the people, “Prepare provisions, because in three days you will cross this Yarden to go in and take possession of the land Adonai your God is giving you.”

  Gabrielle, you have seen many miracles that God has done. You have experienced the glory and anointing of God. May the Blessing of the Most High God overtake you and cause everything you set your hand to do to prosper!

  By the way, did you know that it rained on Monday? Of course, I thought about the anointing, and I thought about you. No need to doubt or worry or fear. You can stand strong knowing that the Lord our God is with you. He will never leave you or forsake you. Continue to rejoice, my love! Time to go take possession of what God is giving to you. Be strong. Be courageous. Be confident. Go walk into your Promised Land.

  All my love,

  Ma

  For years, my mother has told me that rain is God’s way of showering down His anointing and good favor on us. “Look, Mom,” I said back during the American Cup. “It’s raining.” We both instantly knew what that meant: God is here, and He’s about to show out! So when I spotted London’s rain on the morning of the all-around, it felt like a forecast of what the day may hold.

  I Skyped my mother that morning with a note: “Mom, you think I can do this?”

  “I absolutely know you can, sweetheart,” she answered without hesitation.

  Later that day, my brother gave me his final pep talk: “Remember our motto, Brie,” he said. “In order to be the best, you’ve got to take out the best.”

  Before I left my room in the village, I quoted my favorite verse: “I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.” I felt ready.

  I put my hair up in a ponytail, the same type most gymnasts wear, and then I pulled back some stray strands using clips. And speaking of my hair — I’m sure you’ve heard that it suddenly became a big topic on Twitter after the team finals. Some people commented that they didn’t think my hairstyle was neat. Other comments are too ridiculous to even repeat. When I heard about the tweets, I thought, I’m competing for the top prize in an elite sport, and you’re talking about my hairstyle? Though it did sting at first, I made a choice: I couldn’t let that distract me. I’d worked too hard to get to this place. I refused to waste even a second on negativity. Later, some of the rude tweeters thankfully apologized — and I still accept, lol. Hundreds of others followed up on Facebook and Twitter to express their support. They understood what I did: This moment wasn’t about the hair on my head. It was about the courage in my heart.

  On the evening of the individual all-around competition, each of my teammates embraced me before I took the floor wearing a jewel-lined fuchsia leo nearly as bright as the arena floor. “Good luck,” Aly and I said to each other at the sidelines. I then started my warm up for the first event, the vault. I glanced up into the stands and saw Mom waving and cheering like crazy as I took my starting position. This was it.

  I raised my arms and saluted the judges. Then just like Chow had taught me, I ran slowly up the track before exploding into a sprint, and — pop!—the exercise that I’ve spent hundreds of hours perfecting was over in an instant. I nearly stepped off the track during my landing on the f
irst vault, but I still earned a spectacular starting score: 15.966. Phew!

  Next up was bars — the apparatus I’d once loathed, which is why it’s ironic it has become my signature event. As I chalked my hands in preparation for the exercise, I recalled what Chow once told me: “A great bar routine is like a beautiful song — it should have a nice rhythm and flow.” So with every turn, kip, giant, and the landing I stuck (yes!), I focused on creating an unforgettable melody — a routine that was as technically awesome as it was inspirational. The crowd applauded my every flip. Onlookers yelled out “Go, Gabby!” But just as we’d practiced, I kept my concentration. And as it turns out, Chow’s approach was the right one: I widened my lead over Russia’s Viktoria Komova. Whoa. That lead even held up after I completed my tricky beam routine — one I pulled off without a single major mistake, I might add. “Thank you, God,” I whispered after I’d flipped off that four-inch beam. His rain was pouring down.

  By the time I went into my last rotation of the evening, the floor exercise, I was only in the lead by .3126 — a score I knew could easily be overtaken. Talk about a nail biter!

  The announcer came over the loudspeaker: “On the floor, representing the United States of America— Gabrielle Douglas!” I put my body in position right at the corner of the floor. Just then, the first notes of my song, “We Speak No Americano,” blared from the speakers; I chose that upbeat number because I knew it would rev up the crowd. As I took my first tumbling pass, the arena exploded with cheers. Yes, I nailed the first landing! The crowd clapped along. I did step out of bounds once, but the next two series of flips were clean. Oh my goodness, I’m actually doing this! Before I took my last tumble, I drew in a breath. Okay — here I go. I then hurled my body into the air, and with every bit of effort I could muster, I tried to stick that final landing. Done! Whatever happened next, I knew I’d done my best. After the score was posted — a 15.033 — all I could do was wait.

  Viktoria Komova was the last to take her turn on the floor that evening. And the whole time I watched her routine from the sidelines, my head was spinning. Will Viktoria make a comeback? Will my score hold up? Could I actually go home with a gold? From start to finish, an entire floor routine is one minute and thirty seconds. It seemed like I waited for an eternity for my score to flash, especially when I witnessed what everyone else did: Viktoria’s exercise was fantastic.

  The arena went silent as we awaited the result. My eyes were fixed on the scoreboard. I looked up. And I waited. And I waited. Finally, there it was. The final results of the all-around scores: Gabrielle Douglas, 62.232, Viktoria Komova, 15.100. I was in the top spot. And that was the moment that my life changed forever.

  I was so overwhelmed with joy that I could hardly think or speak! So instead, I leapt — right into the arms of my coach. “Thank you, Chow,” I said. We both cried as we embraced.

  That night, I made three kinds of history: I became the first African American and the first woman of color of any nationality to ever win a gold medal in the individual all-around competition. I became the fourth American female gymnast to win the gold. And I became the first US gymnast to ever receive both the team gold medal and the individual all-around gold medal in a single Olympic games. I had done it. On a rainy Thursday afternoon in London, my God had made it all possible. And of course, I couldn’t have done it without my family, my coaches, and my host family being right there by my side the entire time.

  During the medal ceremony, an official placed the wide, purple ribbon holding my gold medal around my neck. I held on tightly to the flower arrangement I’d been handed. The gold felt so much heavier than I’d imagined!

  Up on the podium, the announcer came over the loudspeaker: “Please stand for the national anthem of the United States of America.” My country’s flag raised into the air. As the familiar tune began, my hands trembled a bit as a new set of tears formed in the corners of my eyes. I took a deep breath and looked all around the arena. The whole time, I was thinking, Am I dreaming?

  As I stood before thousands, and millions more watched from every corner of the globe, a series of memories reeled through my head: My first day at Gymstrada a decade before. The hundreds of double shifts Mom had worked to cover my fees. The countless hours I’d spent in training. The difficult two-year separation from my family. That day seven months earlier when I almost gave up on my goal. In an instant, all the sacrifices, the injuries, and the homesickness felt worth it. On August 2, 2012, my leap of faith became God’s gracious gift to me.

  “Oh, say does that star-spangled banner yet wave,” played the final part of the anthem. “O’er the land of the free … and the home … of the … brave!” The crowd erupted into the loudest cheer I may hear in this lifetime. I suddenly felt like the star of a rock concert! The other medalists congratulated me. Camera flashes lit up in every corner of the arena. My family and friends cried into each other’s arms. And for as long as I am alive, I will always remember that moment. I give God all of the glory, and that’s a win-win situation. The glory goes up to Him, and the blessings fall down on me.

  The Resting Place

  Everyone makes mistakes. For most of my childhood, that’s what I’ve told myself whenever I’ve thought about my father. I’ve wanted to forgive him and start fresh. My sister Joyelle, my brother, John, and I have all tried to look beyond the countless gymnastic and track meets, football games, and other events that our dad chose to miss while we were growing up. I’ve always adored my father — and that’s why I’ve felt so torn. I’ve struggled to reconcile my love for Dad with the fact that he wasn’t around and didn’t contribute as much as he should have financially. Yes, there were times when he was overseas. But where was he during all those years when he was right there in my city? I wanted him to be in my life. That’s why it hurt so much when he wasn’t. I was dealing with all of these difficult feelings even as I worked toward my Olympic dream.

  In my heart, I’ve always carried a secret hope that my dad would change — that he would suddenly become the father that I craved. And while maybe one day he will, I’ve chosen to free myself by accepting the way things are for now. Why not forever? Because there has to be room for grace. Not just for my dad, but for all of us.

  Some would call me the child of an absent father. I call myself the child of the King. Because while my earthly dad sometimes didn’t come through for me, my heavenly Father always will. He answered Mom’s prayers when our family fought to stay warm in the back of that Dodge van. He has carried me through disease, heartache, injury, and isolation. He is my great provider. And it is in His amazing arms that I now rest.

  Afterword

  I’M A WILD SLEEPER. SO AFTER I WON THOSE TWO GOLD MEDALS IN London, I didn’t stash them under my pillow. I instead put them right beside my bed on a tabletop. I couldn’t risk twitching during the night and then having the medals slip, fall, and break. I would never forgive myself!

  Practically before my last medal ceremony was over, tweets came pouring in from all kinds of famous people. Lil’ Wayne tweeted, “Glad I lived to see what Gabby Douglas did in the Olympics. Icon.” I received “flowing happy tears” from Oprah (WOW). I also got congrats from the cast of my favorite TV show, The Vampire Diaries, as well as from Beyoncé, Nikki Minaj, Gabrielle Union, Octavia Spencer, Elizabeth Banks, Holly Robinson Peete, Whoopi Goldberg, and so many others. (Thanks, everyone!) I even got a tweet from a fellow Olympian: “Congrats to @gabrielledoug last night! We watched from the pool!!!” Michael Phelps wrote.

  It’s weird to be suddenly famous. All those years when I’d been dreaming about winning a gold, I hadn’t thought too much about how my life would change if I actually won. I thought I could just fly to London, win a medal, and then simply fly back home to Virginia Beach and hang out with my family. Well, that’s not quite the way it turned out! If I’m simply walking down the street, people are like, “Look, there’s Gabby!” As much fun as that is, I don’t think I’ll ever get used to everyone recognizing me.
Now I’m a little nervous about going out in flip-flops and wearing no makeup. I’m thinking, What if the paparazzi take my photo when I look crazy?

  On those days when I just want to be a regular teenager again (whatever that is!), I wear my disguise, which is shades and a hat. It hardly ever works, lol! Once, when I was in the grocery store in Virginia Beach with Mom and John, a guy went, “Hey — there’s that gymnast!” Another time, I was strolling down Rodeo Drive in Los Angeles, a man actually stopped traffic by hopping out of his car just so he could run over and take a picture with me. The other drivers were beeping their horns like crazy.

  Eight days after my victory in the individual all-around competition (and by the way, it still feels like a dream!), Mom and I took a direct flight from London to Los Angeles so I could be a guest on The Jay Leno Show. My first thought was, What in the world am I going to wear? Before I left London, I sent all of my clothes home to Virginia Beach with my sister Arielle — I didn’t want to lug around all that stuff with me. So with Jay Leno and so many other appearances coming up, like ringing the opening bell at the New York Stock Exchange and going on Letterman, I didn’t have a stitch of clothing with me. What I did have was one full day to shop — and a mother who was right there beside me to help out. Mom and I went to the BCBG store on Rodeo Drive. “How about this?” Mom said as she held up a gold skirt and the cutest black jacket. “I love it!” I said. After Mom picked out a couple of other show-stopping outfits for me, I was ready for lights, camera, action!