PARIS — Balance beam bronze medalist Manila Esposito glared like a deer in headlights at the packed post-tournament press conference. When she began to speak, barely audible, Simone Biles reached over to adjust Esposito's microphone, nodding to the Italian gymnast that she was OK. Then the host posed a question to Esposito's teammate, Alice D'Amato, who took a moment to respond. The host began to prompt her, but Biles gently told the host that the translation into the earpiece would take a moment.
Sometimes I remember that Simone Biles is 27 years old. This isn't her first time doing this. She knows a thing or two about microphones, translation, success and failure. Biles began competing internationally more than a decade ago, at age 16 while getting braces. She wasn't old enough to drive, and she wasn't old enough to drink when she competed in Rio in 2016.
Now she's married, and just as a bride is asked when she wants to start a family as she exits the ceremony, Biles has been asked how she feels about Los Angeles even before she finished competing in Paris. She initially declined to answer, saying it would be great to compete in her hometown, but also acknowledging that age is not just a number. “I'm old,” she said with a laugh.
She later expressed exasperation about X, tweeting, “We need to stop asking Olympic medal-winning athletes what they're going to do next,” adding, “Let's enjoy this moment we've spent our whole lives working towards.”
In fact, this is the crux of the issue: in Biles' case, the message needs to change. Instead of greedily thinking that she could have had more, it's everyone else who should be grateful. Of course it happens: we're spoiled and desperate, reluctant to let go of what we probably took for granted. Biles is a constant, a near-certain presence in the sport; neither age nor injury nor abuse nor mental health issues can defeat her. She bounces back every time, and all we can do is worry, “What if this is the last time?”
It's entirely possible. Coach Cecil Lundy is leaving to become head coach at the University of Georgia. Biles' co-coach, Laurent, her husband, will follow suit a year after their daughter graduates. It seems like the perfect transition. She has nothing left to prove, but that's just a tease. She had nothing to prove three years ago.
Then, devastated by the bizarre events of Tokyo, Biles painstakingly researched her way to dig into the roots of her own mental health issues. She acknowledged her abuse at the hands of Larry Nassar and bravely questioned USA Gymnastics' role before the Senate Judiciary Committee. She questioned her own “why” — a frightening proposition for all of us, to confront what we really want, what it is we desire. And she had the courage to admit that she'd lost her direction, traded her love of gymnastics for answering the bell. Even braver, Biles fixed that, taking a year off from a sport where time is unforgiving.
“It's great to be here juggling work, personal work and performing,” Laurent Landy said, “It just goes to show how tough the mind is and how, if you heal properly, you can be very successful.”
Her form hasn't slowed. Biles has spent the week here battling a nagging calf injury, which she injured before the trials and then hurt here during qualifying. Doctors kept her leg bandaged throughout the competition. Biles has downplayed its severity, playfully chiding reporters when asked: “You guys are prying.” But Randi acknowledged it's a matter of managing the pain, not making it go away. The medication, the therapy, the ice, the usual — all to make the pain “hold up,” which is very different from healing. “Obviously she was bothered,” he said. “Was it affecting her performance? I don't think so.”
Randy grinned as if to say, “You answer that.” Four medals, including three golds, is more than all but 22 countries that have ever competed in Paris.
The final day, of course, was supposed to be about coronations, victory laps and farewells. But instead, Biles' humanity was revealed. She was tired. She had only competed four of the five days of competition here. And she was mentally exhausted. The pursuit of righting the ship for Tokyo was weighing on her. The event finals also felt strange. Instead of music playing while the gymnasts performed, the Bercy Arena turned into a church, with churchwomen even tsching at people who dared to react when gymnasts landed their tricks on the balance beam.
“I asked a few times if they could have some music or background noise,” Biles said, “so I don't really know what happened there.”
These aren't excuses, they're reality. The balance beam was like the Hunger Games, with medals awarded to those who didn't fall off. Three women, including Sunisa Li, fell before Biles and two others were given a serious balance check. But when Biles mis-landed on her back to back, stepped out and fell, the arena gasped. Later, after the competition was over and Biles had officially missed out on a medal, a mother waiting in line at the concession stand at the Bercy Arena lamented to her young daughter, “I feel sorry for Simone.” The girl, eyes wide, replied, “She fell off,” as if she'd just seen Da Vinci paint outside the lines or Beethoven hit a chord wrong.
Whatever Simone Biles does next, her legacy will be one of excellence in gymnastics and, more importantly, leadership and courage off the mat. (Naomi Baker/Getty Images)
In her defense, the girl was likely under eight years old, and Biles has been an Olympic perfectionist her whole life. Prior to this balance beam final, Biles had competed in nine different Olympic events, including team events, individual all-around events, and individual finals, and had won medals in all of them, including gold medals in seven of them.
Then her humanity struck again, daring it to strike. Two hours after her balance beam fiasco, Biles was back on floor exercise, an event she has never lost on, either at the Olympics or world championships. She landed awkwardly during her warm-up and appeared to be straining the same calf injury. After nursing a brief bout, Biles still went out and made her first tumbling pass, restoring order to the world. But on her second and fourth passes, Biles twice went out of bounds, costing her a precious tenth of a point, but it was enough to give Brazil's Rebecca Andrade the second.
Notably, she failed to perform two moves named after her that no one even attempts. This is the definition of failure for Biles.
What's her definition of success? Ask Biles and she'll tell you it's not medals, but her power, and what showed on the final day of competition: her authenticity. She's proud of what she's accomplished, but even more so of who she's become and the people (correctly) she believes she's helped.
“Whether you're in sports or not, prioritizing your mental health and taking time for yourself will lead to longevity,” she said. “Specifically longevity in sports, but also living a better, healthier lifestyle.”
Not far from where Biles competed, a woman was walking down a Paris sidewalk behind a friendly Australian Shetland Sheepdog. Satisfying her dog-loving needs, she stopped to chat. Though she's French, she was in Paris to enjoy the Olympics, and upon learning her new canine friend was from the United States, she quickly explained how much she enjoyed “US Gymnast.” She'd watched Biles' documentary on Netflix and praised her for starting a dialogue about mental health.
“I'm not an athlete,” she said, adding that she was still grateful that Biles allowed her to “speak” about her personal struggles. “I'm grateful.”
If this is the end, we should all be thanking Simone Biles.
(Top photo: Simone Biles with the gold medal in the vault: Tom Weller/VOIGT/GettyImages)
