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294 pages, Hardcover
First published March 30, 2021
Kelly understood that a coach's job is to guide, not criticize. Though perfect is always the gold standard, he knew we would be happier if we heard about the things we needed to do to make our skills and routines great rather than all the things we were doing wrong. He focused on the positive, and by doing so, he helped us avoid the negative. "Flowers grow better with water than they do with fertilizer," he often said.Or this:
"So what are we going to do now? Are we going to train?" I asked eagerly. Kelly looked at me in that kindly way of his, like his most studious pupil had asked for math homework on the first day of summer break.
"No, Kyle, we're not going to train," he said, smiling. "We're on vacation now. You're hear for the rest of the Games, and I want you to enjoy it. I'll see you back at Altadore in a few weeks." And with that, he disappeared.I'm not sure I've ever seen this attitude in a memoir by a female gymnast, certainly not during a moment when she was competing at an elite level. It's a couple of things, I think—first, that Canada doesn't have the tradition of medalling (or being medal contenders) in gymnastics that the US does, which means that (especially) in his initial competitive years) Shewfelt simply didn't have the same kind of pressure to perform. And second, that female gymnasts are younger on average than male gymnasts, and often under a different (sometimes near-total) kind of control by their coaches.
Once, in the throes of a tumbling routine, my cartwheeling nearly knocked her [his mother] over as she was carrying hot dishes to the table. Worse, I just avoided landing inside the open red-hot oven.
That was enough for Mom, who decided that if I was going to flip around, I was going to do it in a safe environment. After dinner one evening, she sat down with the local phone book, licked her finger, and flicked through the pages until she found the heading for gymnastics clubs. The first club on the list was the Altadore Gymnastic Club. She dialed the number.
"I have a hyperactive six-year-old boy," she announced to the person who answered the phone. "Please help save my furniture." Five minutes later, I was enrolled in the beginner class.Sound familiar? Must be a fairly common experience for kids put into gymnastic or dance at young ages!