< Back To Coach Articles
 You
Only Have One Shot!
By Ashley Preste
Until this moment, it seems as though the clock hasn’t stopped
running. At this point, I have been out of bed and functioning in
excess of five hours and have already
completed our fifteen-minute warm-up before the big event. We are
calm, collected, and ready to show the National Cheerleaders Association
why they chose us, the St. C loud
State University Competition Cheer Team, to compete for the national
collegiate championship.
Now, we wait.
Like a heard of wild cattle, we are led down one hallway after
another until we reach the event floor. We enter a large room, completely
composed of cement from floor to ceiling, with the ceiling thirty
feet higher than the room we just came from. A giant blue curtain
is all that separates us from the thousands of anxious eyes waiting
on the other side. Suddenly, there is a sea of color and excitement
before us. Hundreds of cheerleaders are gathered back stage at the
Ocean Center is Daytona Beach, Florida with one thing on their mind:
to make it to the final round of competition.
Gathered behind the curtain along with the competitors sit four
men all dressed in red, white and blue. The letters “NCA”
are worn proudly on the front of their uniforms, which all seem
to be one size too small. These are the men who are responsible
for the lives of every girl in the air. If we fall, they need to
catch us. No one hits the ground. A somewhat stout man with brown
hair neatly gelled in a perfect bouquet of tiny spikes emerges from
the curtain. Clipboard in hand, he makes his way to each team, explaining
in detail what will happen next. Finally, he makes his way to our
team.
“St. Cloud State University?” he asks.
We nod.
“Hi everyone, I’m Joe. There are three teams ahead
of you. Once U Latina moves off that blue mat over there, you have
ten minutes to warm up anything you want. Then you will move to
the next blue mat for ten minutes and finally right there (he points)
to where the curtain opens…”
His voice trails off in my head. We are fourth in line. In less
than ten minutes we will be in front of a panel of judges who, for
two minutes and fifteen seconds will critique our every move. They
want perfection. One finger touching the floor during a standing
backtuck, one girl coming down from a stunt in a way that is not
as controlled as the rest, could cost us four-hundredths of a point.
Big deal, right? Wrong. That miniscule deduction could cost us finals.
I vaguely hear Joe continue, “Make sure that you don’t
let any part of your body get outside the mat when you’re
out there, not even the heel of your shoe.”
Suddenly, I am brought back to reality when I hear Tyler ask, “So,
if we let just one butt cheek outside the mat, does that count?”
Joe laughed, “Well, as long as it’s just one cheek,
or just part of a cheek, but not both cheeks. Wow that is the first
time I have been asked that question.”
As the laughter dies down Joe wishes us luck and continues to make
his rounds. As the line dwindles, my heart starts to race. Sara
and I lock eyes. I can tell she is just as nervous as I am. Nervous,
not because we are not prepared, but because we have spent 20 hours
a week practicing for the past eight months, all in anticipation
of this
moment: the preliminary competition. In a weird sort of way, this
part of the competition is more important than finals. If we don’t
make the top eight, we won’t
have a chance at a national championship. Last season, we were
no where near the skill level we have progressed to this year. We
completed our time on the mat, not dropping a single stunt, and
we made it to finals. With the talent we have this season, there
is no doubt in my mind that we won’t make it to finals.
Sara and I stand side by side, fingers entwined. We are confident.
Before I have a chance to blink, all 18 of us are gathered in a
circle, arms around each other.
“Make it just like warm-ups!” someone says.
“Don’t suck!” Paul yells; our slogan for the
season.
“Stay calm, have fun. You guys will be fine,” encourages
our coach, Dave. He is just as nervous as we are. We are a family,
and this family has never had this much potential in the four years
Dave has been with us.
“St. Cloud State, you’re up,” Joe announces.
“Good luck you guys.” says Dave.
All hands in the circle, Laura yells, “Can I get a S’Go
state on three? One…two…three…”
In unison we yell, “S’GO STATE!”
The curtain opens. The announcement is heard over the loud speaker…
“And now, from St. Cloud, Minnesota, St. Cloud State University.”
From the moment the music began, a confidence rushed over me, the
way the blood rushes to your finger tips after you have slept on
your hand and seized circulation. Tyler began our routine landing
his standing, full twisting back tuck, perfectly. The corners of
my mouth became permanently glued to my ear lobes.
To be honest, the next two minutes and ten seconds were a complete
blur. Before I knew it, we were running off the bat, back behind
the curtain where it all began. All I knew was that I had competed
to the best of my ability, and every skill I performed on that mat
was better than it had been all season. ‘We did it,’
I thought to myself. ‘We are going to place top five this
year, I just know it.’
No more than a second later, the glass suddenly became half empty.
I looked from one teammate to another, each stared back with the
look of utter disappointment. What went wrong? Everything I saw
and experienced out there was no less than perfect.
Then I found out the truth. One couple had missed their stunt,
costing us our ending pyramid. The couple who never dropped in eight
months of practice, dropped at nationals. If that wasn’t bad
enough, one person touched their hand to the ground during their
standing back tuck. Although we missed our pyramid, if that one
person hadn’t touched the ground, we still would have made
it to finals. He cost our team a four-hundredth of a point deduction.
We were eliminated.
Nothing can prepare you for that feeling - the feeling that you
just wasted ten thousand dollars - for two minutes and
fifteen seconds!
|
