Two Fridays ago, my youngest son "Splig" finally performed a round-off-back-handspring combo on the floor without a spot. He had done back handsprings perfectly on the trampoline, had done both with and without a round-off on the 8-inch mats, off springboards, spotted on the floor and unspotted on training aids. But it wasn't until ten days ago that he did the whole thing without any support.
Of course he was ecstatic.
Last week - the Monday after his special accomplishment - he of course wanted to try it again. Unfortunately, his main coach was with a group of girls, so his inexperienced coach was watching over the boys. I mean that literally: watching. He wasn't really coaching, and he certainly wasn't spotting, so after my son did a few slightly off-kilter back-handsprings, he didn't intervene.
Meanwhile, a duo of bully boys started taunting Splig. As he tried the maneuver again, they screamed, "You are so stupid!"
Now, it is true that a gymnast must learn to block out external noise. But Splig was being so carefree and happy about doing the back-handsprings by himself that he wasn't focused. He crashed on his left arm, springing off it at an odd angle. He still landed on his feet, but his arm was "sprung" (his word.)
He spent the rest of the workout splayed out on a mat with an ice-pack on his arm. He participated only in stretching.
To go from a high-high to a low-low so quickly really affected him. For the next week, he'd say his arm was fine, but then would baby it during gymnastics workout, declaring that it must be still hurt. Still, my offers to take him to a doctor were met with a, "No, it is fine. I'm just worried about my safety" or "It is okay, it is just a little sore and I don't want to push it."
His head didn't know what his body is capable of.
I understood completely from where his fear originated. I was amazing at back-handsprings on mats, off springboards, and on the tramp, but I nearly fell through the side of the gym wall the first (and ahem the last) time I tried it on floor.
Over the weekend, I saw him doing cartwheels, handstands, and using his arm in a normal fashion. Yesterday's workout came, and he was excited about how his arm was "all better" but told me that he was certain he wouldn't be allowed to do the back-handspring.
I reasoned with him, telling him the longer he waits, the harder it will be. But he shook his head, citing safety. They will spot you this time... I tried to convince him.
Knowing I wouldn't win this battle - for the reassurance must come from his coaches - I told him to just be excellent. (Listen to your coaches, try your best.) He gave me a thumbs-up as he sighed about how happy he was to have his arm back.
But during the first part of workout, he wasn't giving it 100%.
He could barely do a handstand, and flopped down dramatically when doing backward rolls meant to pop into handstands. As the other boys walked on their hands across the floor, Splig just stood to the side.
I caught his eye. He pantomimed that his arm hurt. I beckoned him to the hallway.
I hated to do it, but I called his bluff.
Sure, I second-guessed myself as I explained to him that he couldn't go trick-or-treating with a hurt arm. After all, what mother would deny his son an evening collecting sugary sweets?
But if his arm was legitimately hurt, he'd need medical attention, particularly after a whole week. I explained to him how I knew his arm was fine - because he had used it normally plenty of times throughout the week - so he had to convince his mind to understand that his body had healed. On the flip side, I explained, if his arm hadn't healed, then we needed to get to a doctor immediately before it gets worse, but that would mean skipping the candy run.
I gave him psycho babble, but I gave him tough love, too.
He crumpled to the floor, crying that we could see the doctor tomorrow, but that he had to trick-or-treat today.
I almost broke. But I knew his arm was fine.
(And if it wasn't fine, then we'd better get to a doctor, so my consequence wasn't a mean-spirited threat.)
I told him outright that I didn't think trick-or-treating was in jeopardy, because his arm wasn't hurt.
"All you have to do is go back on the floor and use your arm normally. Just do your gymnastics, and then we'll go trick-or-treating. But, if you can't use your arm, we'll go right to the doctor to get it fixed."
Then the part that broke my heart, because I wanted to comfort him, but I knew it had to be done: "I'm going back upstairs now. I expect I'll see you come out to the floor within two minutes and show me that you are doing your best. If I don't see you come out, we go to the doctor."
I walked away, leaving my son a crying heap.
Thirty seconds later, he went on the floor and started working in earnest. After a few tentative handstands, he held on longer. He worked on press-handstands and did them well, giving me a huge thumbs-up.
Initially he avoided the high bar, but I was willing to cut him some slack since it appeared that his coach wanted him to really cement-in the press-handstand.
Two of his teammates were on the high bar, attempting kips.
In time, Splig joined them, and I was relieved that his arm was indeed totally fine.
He started swinging tentatively at first, but then got back to the same gusto he had before the arm injury. He actually got very close to accomplishing the kip.
I was so happy, and so was he.
Then.
He dropped off the bar and looked down at his hand in horror.
His teammates patted him on the back, "Congratulations, you got your first rip!"
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I'm hoping he's getting the minor injuries out of the way now so that there will be none - major or minor - during the competitive season that begins next month.
